The Left Breast Might be Dangerous Weapon in the Wrong Hands

I am going to get right to the point. Not something I typically do. But I have no witty segue for this post. So here we go.

Today my boss touched my breast. And I am wondering if now might be a good time to ask for a raise.

So. I guess I should explain. Because I know that some of you are shocked. Some of you are horrified. More than a few of you are laughing uncontrollably. And surely at least a couple of you are sort of turned on by this announcement.

So let me make certain that there are no misunderstandings. Because I would not want any of you to think that I need a referral to a good sexual harassment law firm. Or that there is some sort of hanky panky going on with my boss. Let me reiterate in case you were reading too quickly. Because I know some of you skim these postings. Not that I can really blame you. But I would not want you to miss the point of this particular post. I am NOT fucking my boss. And I do not want to be. Everything is fine.

Maybe I should just tell the story. Although I have this feeling that no one ever believes the real story of the boss touching the breast. I suppose it is too late now. So I might as well just continue. And hope for the best.

Attorney Number One comes into my office. I can already tell he is feeling a bit left out today. He is sort of needy and this sometimes happens. And today he is on the verge of sulking because I am not paying attention to him. Rather I am working. This is what I have heard I am supposed to do while I am at work. I suppose this is why they call work "work" and not something else like "salami" or "vacation" or "breast touching" or something else entirely.

So the man enters my office with a rather large binder in hand that I do not particularly want to see let alone have in my office. But he is here. In my office. And so is the binder. I know that he wants to give me said binder. And if he wants to give me said binder it is because he wants me to do something with said binder. And I suppose I do not really mean that he wants me to do something with said binder. But he will more likely than not want me to work some miracle regarding said matter contained in said binder. And I probably will not even need the binder anyway. But I can already tell that I do not want to do anything with it. I do not want it. Because I have more than my fair share of binders in my office.

Wait. I just re-read that and I feel like I need to pause for a moment. This is not some vague attempt to have you all read between the lines. There is no wink wink nudge nudge implied. I swear I am referencing an actual binder. You know. Made of plastic. Three metal rings. It secures documents that have been three hold punched. You can find such a binder at any office supply store. I am not speaking of anything else. There is no innuendo here. Binder. That is all. Just a simple three ring binder.

So where was I. Oh yes. I have a great many binders in my office already. I do not need another binder. And when I say I have a great many binders in my office I am not even including the plethora of reference binders in my office. For I have a great many reference binders as well. Binders that read "Resource Information" and list the various topical resource materials contained within said binder. I have binders that are labeled "DRUG" and "Domestic Violence" and "SEX" and "False Confessions" and so on and so forth.

And no. You cannot borrow my resource binder labeled "DRUG" or the one labeled "SEX" and you should know better than to even ask such a question. Trust me. You would not find it very interesting. It just is not that kind of party. Promise.

At any rate. I have an overwhelming number of binders. Both resource and otherwise. And the man is walking into my office with yet another binder. Great. One more to add to the pile. More things to add to the list of things to do and I haven't done but probably should have done a long time ago. More more more.

He is pontificating about something related to this particular binder. And I am admittedly not paying attention. He realizes this and then attempts an alternate tactic in which he strategically places said binder on my desk directly on top of the materials I am currently working on. Sigh. So now I have no choice but to stop working on said materials that I was working on and listen to whatever the fuck he has to say that I do not want to be listening to in the first place. Sigh again.

Fine. I am listening now. See. Listening. Well. Sort of listening.

And then. It happens. Because my office is rather small. There isn't a great deal of room. It is pretty well full of stuff. Maneuvering in this small space can be challenging at best. And it is important to note that said individual is incredibly animated. My office is most certainly not wheelchair accessible. Or accessible to those overly animated folk. In short. Three people in my office at the same time is semi-obscene.

So it happens. I am sitting at my desk. And he is speaking. About something that I am only half-assed paying attention to. And he is being his typical overly animated self. And. So. I feel this hand. And it is really too late to do anything. I feel this hand. Just barely graze the left side of my left breast.


It was kind of like that scene in Dirty Dancing where Patrick Swayze does that running of the hand thing grazing the breast move on Jennifer Gray. Except it wasn't hot. And now that I have had two and three quarters of a second to think about it. It wasn't hot in Dirty Dancing either. But that's probably because of the whole Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Gray thing. Maybe it would be hot if it was someone other than Patrick Swayze and someone other than Jennifer Gray.

So. Most of you know that I work in an insane office. I am used to strange things happening. So the whole grazing the left side of the left breast thing. Well. I don't really think much of it. It was one of those things. He barely touched me. And it was completely unintentional.

Now. Let me just say this. Because I know what you are going to say. You are going to tell me that he just wanted me to think it was unintentional. And I will have to tell you that you are wrong. I know this man. And really. He is a bit on the odd side at times. But he is not now nor has he ever attempted to purposefully touch my left breast. It is just not that kind of party around this place. Just because he calls me into his office to look at pornography on his computer...er...uh...maybe that is not the best example to prove my point.

Seriously. All kidding aside. And I most certainly hope that no one in my office ever finds out about this post. I swear. It is totally not "like that" at all. Everything is above board.

So. Back to my left breast. He realized instantly what he had done. And became incredibly embarrassed. Apologetic. Concerned. He is probably in his office drafting some sort of "hold harmless" document for me to sign. Promising not to sue him for accidentally touching my left breast.

Whatever. It's just my left breast. Wait. I do not want you all to think that I let just anyone touch my left breast. You cannot just touch my left breast whenever you want to and pretend that you "accidentally" touched it. Believe me. I know the difference between accidental left breast touching and "accidental" left breast touching.

If you have touched my left breast I guarantee you that it was either a.) one hundred percent obvious that it was accidental or b.) I wanted you to touch my left breast. And probably my right breast too. But definitely the left. And I do not mean to imply that I have some sort of preference for the left breast over the right. I do not want my right breast to feel left out in any way. I do not favor the left breast. And I do not have a left breast fetish. And you never really know about the whole fetish thing because people are into all kinds of stuff. And although I am pretty much a "whatever butters your biscuit" kind of grrrl. There are a few things that I must admit go way beyond anything that I have any desire to experience. Such things that I have no desire to experience typically involve farm animals and defecation. Eww.

But this is not about either of those things or any other fetish that you may or may not have. This is simply about my left breast. So let us stay on topic. Before things get out of control.

So. Basically I got quasi felt up at the office today. And I suppose it could be worse. At least I didn't put my underpants on inside out. I hate it when that happens.