She pulled the trolley suitcase noisily behind her, the girl with the purple hair and tight grey trousers.  I watched as her short legs strode forward purposefully, backwards and forwards, gazing appreciatively at the rise and fall of her voluptuous rear.

The conductor blew the whistle and she leapt on to the train, with me following close behind, but then she stopped
suddenly, causing me to fall headlong over her suitcase towards her.  I put out my arm to steady myself and accidentally grabbed her breast, soft and squelshy under her t-shirt like a cloth pudding.  She squealed and I apologised profusely, explaining that I had not intended to grope her breast, seeing as how I was more of an arse man myself.

Yes, can't beat a nice bit of farce.

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Comment by Teresa on June 26, 2012 at 10:43pm

Loved "cloth pudding".  Fun six! 

Comment by Robert Morschel on June 26, 2012 at 5:43pm
Gracias.
Comment by Judy Thompson on June 26, 2012 at 3:33pm

my apologies i am lashing myself with large sticks as we speak,  and will be heading  up to the bed of nails any moment. 

sigh.

Roberta, eh.  (taking notes)

Comment by Robert Morschel on June 26, 2012 at 12:50pm
Ok, that last line just popped out. Nothing to do with me.

And as for Bob, please no! Bob is what you call a man without arms or legs swimming in the English Channel.
Robert, Rob or on weekends, Roberta is just fine. :)
Comment by Judy Thompson on June 26, 2012 at 12:05pm

Words almost fail  me.  Bob, how wonderfully you manage to turn utter mortification into funny utter mortification...I don't think I've ever seen the phrase "cloth pudding' before, and it really is perfect.  However, that last line really should be ashamed of itself. 

Comment by Robert Morschel on June 26, 2012 at 12:13am
@Ron stalking is always best - they can't turn you down then.
Comment by Angela on June 25, 2012 at 9:32pm

Oh, my.  Tragic.

Comment by Ron. Lavalette on June 25, 2012 at 7:59pm

Today, solidly seated at the bookstore's cafe, I admired, from a distance, a very perfect ass, in cordouroy, awaitng her latte-to-go and wished I had any reason at all to be walking and tripping and ... well, I guess you got the picture. I actually considered getting up and telling her that, as a lifelong observer of all asses and luster after only a comparatively small percentage, I felt compelled to advise her that hers is....

But no.  I just finished my coffee quickly and stalked her for five blocks down Main St. 

Comment by bolton carley on June 25, 2012 at 6:04pm

i'm sure it made for a great story for her to tell her friends.  bet you even got labeled with a nickname like boob klutz. lol.

Comment by Robert Morschel on June 25, 2012 at 5:54pm
I'm sure she does! Something like this happened to me at an ice rink, when I, an appalling ice skater at the best of times, slipped and fell onto a poor woman. I accidentally grabbed her breast in an effort to steady myself. I was mortified.

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