I’ve been sitting here for nearly thirty minutes trying to figure out how to retell this memory without sounding like a creepy old pervert. Meadhbh wants me to just write it however I want, Audrey is busy trying to come up with as many synonyms for ‘posterior’ as she can, whilst Shay is salivating in the corner of the room, wishing upon hope that Samantha were here today so he could lay eyes on her backside once more.
The thing is, they’re all in their own way, right. Samantha’s bottom was spectacular! Best described by the colloquial term of ‘bubble butt’, each cheek was impossibly round due to, by her own admission, the fact that this was the only body part she actively targeted during exercise routines. She loved her bottom, she was incredibly proud of her bottom and – even though she occasionally said otherwise – she adored it when people would double-take it as she walked down the street.
The first opportunity I had to ogle this part of her during our day in Glasgow was when she walked to the bar to order in the second round of drinks. As her green skirt hugged tight, her bottom wiggled invitingly as she meandered away from me; fully aware that my eyes were fixed affectionately on her rear end.
As we walked from bar to shopping center, my eyes would drift in its general direction, a sly smile creeping over her face as she caught my glances in the window reflections. Never once did she call me out on my uncharacteristically masculine actions until we were browsing the aisles of a bookstore chain.
There she was, bending down to pull a book from the bottom shelf, her behind thrust toward me when she quickly straightened, spun around and publically chastised me for staring at her ass. Her exact words, in fact, were: “If you look at my ass one more time I’m heading straight back to the train station and you’ll never fucking see me again! Fucking men, always tits and arse, never what’s deep inside!”
To say I turned a violent shade of red, stammered my apology and turned to bashfully look at a book about cabinet making would be an understatement. For a few heart-stopping moments there wasn’t a part of me that thought she was being anything other than genuine. She had caught me out in my pervy ways and was calling me on it. She was making it clear that her butt was off limits. Period.
Once I’d regained the power of speech I turned back to look into her wide eyes and apologized with far more coherency and meaning than I initially had. Instead of accepting my apology she burst into giggles, thumped my arm and turned back to replace the book on the bottom shelf; bending over – deliberately slowly – to do so.
As she walked past me she took my hand and headed toward the entrance of the shop. “If you’re gonna excessively ogle, Andrew, do it a little more surreptitiously. Not all girls are as uncaring as I am.”