The Boob

The Boob?

I am a gay man. The female body is a mystery to me. Oh sure, I know the basics, but there's a lot that I don't know. There is a lot of ground there that I have not covered in my sixty seven years. Saturday Mark and I went to one of our favorite restaurants. It's a nice Cajun/Creole place on Clark Street. The staff is very nice, the food is very good, and the owner is very friendly. In fact every time we walk in there, the owner greets us and she gives us a big hug. So Saturday we walk in the door and Victoria sees us come in. She walks right over, asks Mark how is he doing, and gives him a big hug. Then she turns to me. I am not ready for the hug, but it comes anyway. I clumsily reach out to return the hug, both hands extended, and we meet in a very awkward embrace. Except I am not embracing her. My right hand landed correctly, around her back. But that left hand, what the hell did that land on? A rush of embarrassment burns my face. I am holding her right boob in my left hand. My hand is planted directly on her boob as if I were squeezing a cantaloupe in the supermarket. Not at all like hugging a guy. I had forgot to allow for the extra furniture. So as to not incur any more embarrassment, I quickly removed the offending hand and grasped her by the shoulder with it. I did not say excuse me, I did not make note of my hand on the boob at all. I simply acted like it didn't happen. Now here is a little question for the reader. Should I have apologized? Should I have said, "Oh my, it seems I've accidentally grabbed you by the tit. So sorry." Should I have brought it to anybody's attention at all, especially hers? I mean, if somebody accidentally grabbed me by the balls, I would have five minutes of jokes about it. I wouldn't mind if it were brought to the attention of the whole room. But I didn't say anything, not to her, not to Mark. I just swallowed my embarrassment and ordered the fried chicken. She makes the best fried chicken.