The friend, an older redhead who is pretty bitchy, though I don't remember her name, went towards the front door while my ex went to the bathroom. It wasn't too busy in there so I walked to the bathroom with my drink, paused at the end of the hallway with my drink to watch the game, and when I saw her come my way I turned to her and acted surprised.My ex, Elizabeth, really was surprised. We didn't leave on good terms but we weren't horrible to each other either. She lived on the other side of town and while we still probably go to some of the same places we hadn't run into each other in the few years since we broke up.I said "hi" and said to have a seat and sat at an empty table. I don't think she wanted to but was polite and did. Within seconds a waitress was over and asked if we needed drinks. I already had one and I don't think Elizabeth wanted one (she had a low tolerance) but I ordered her favorite beer for her (a strong imperial stout).A little interjection here - from. .. sort of ... in front of me during supper.The shirt caught under her pony tail, and she had to maneuver the cloth over her head and then extract the pony tail. That gave me all sorts of time to look at her upper torso. The bra covered more skin than one of her bikini tops would have, but that made no difference whatsoever to my prick, which sat up, trying to look at what my eyes could now see.She tossed the shirt aside and looked at her plate, and then down at her bra. Then she looked up at me.“I don’t want to get my bra stained either,” she said, calmly.She reached behind her in that way that makes it look like the woman has Gumby arms and my frozen aspect relaxed enough for me to pull in enough air in a gasp that would keep me conscious for another half minute.The sound of elastic being released ... the sag of stiff, white cotton on her chest ... the shrugging motion that dislodged bra straps carelessly, and the distraction of the bra being tossed on top of the shirt. My eyes.
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