Sometimes its impossible not to look.
I can hear the howls of objections saying "Of course it's possible not to look. It's just a matter of training yourself." Well of course you may well be right, but there are some sights where I wonder if someone was holding a gun to my head and told me they would pull the trigger if I looked, if I would be able to restrain myself. Its a bit like that scene in Clockwork Orange. (If you know it you know it. If you don't, I'm not going to explain it here.)
It's going to a very warm day in Melbourne today. It's not yet 11am and its already getting uncomfortable. Breast weather.
You are walking towards me. You're probably about 50 metres away when I first notice you. You're wearing a tight white top cut straight across with spaghetti straps. It looks nice. As we get closer, I notice the tops of your breasts bouncing slightly above your top. Nothing special just nice. As we pass I can see you are wearing a push up bra that really emphasises your breasts and cleavage.
There is a group of 60 something men typical of the retired class of this well to do suburb sitting around an al fresco table. They nod, wink and smile at each other, moving restlessly in their seats as you pass them.
As you pass me, I glance (perhaps even look) directly at your breasts — something I don't do very often these days. I can't help but think that's what you want me to do. I doubt you want me to stare. I doubt you want me to whistle or remark, but I think you want to see me look all the time trying to appear as though I am not. I can't help but think you enjoy the power you have to make me turn my head.
In contrast the woman sitting at the table opposite wearing a summer frock with a V front. Not what I would call particularly low cut but quite revealing in a non revealing way — if you know what I mean. It doesn't look as though she is trying to attract me. It's just what you wear on a warm day if you want to be cool.
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