coffee bean Lady – fotos Smith

Hauled cat, laptops, stuffed chair, milk crate and assorted oddities into 11 by 13 foot bedroom where our single small antique window air conditioner resides.

Third floor, 90° hotcloudlesssunsmacksky, 77% humidity, no breeze . . . you do the moist, I mean math.

I was raised in 10% humidity (eastern Washington State), and have suffered since leaving 50 years ago. 10% humidity softens hot and cold.

Close quarters leads to odd talk.

She “How can I thank you for washing the bird feeder?”

me “flash your breasts?”

She “I don’t know if that’s lady-like.”

me “Hey Lady it’s legal, we’re married, have a license to lewd.”

She lifts her t-shirt, exposing one bra cup.

me “that’s bra flash, not breast flesh.”

She lifts the cup exposing the breast, and there’s no nipple. I’m wonderfully amazed. The bra had squished flesh over nipple and as I watch, the released breast gently expands, creating a slowly opening snake-eye slit with the buried nipple cautiously peeking through flesh curtain before sliding out worm-like as the breast biggens like a balloon being blown.

I laugh delightedly, “so that’s where you keep your nipples at night when they’re not being used.”

Life is good . . . we have cooled box air and peeping-Thomasina nipples playing slide ‘n seek.

desert air – foto Smith

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