STOP staring at my B****

Well, I have to admit that there's something going on between me and public transportation. Something must go wrong, embarrassing or funny. I don't really know how all of this happened but that's always the case.

Recently (not so recent though), about a week ago. I took the bullet to work from an agonizing meeting. As usual, there was no empty seat so I had to stand but it wasn't too packed. I rested my back on a glass panel, the bullet's door was on my right. There was a mother with a child opposite of me,one of those immigrant looking. They stood right in front of me before walking out of the bullet at the next station. Once they walked out I took a closer look at my outfit.

I was wearing a short dress; sweet pink, black belt from Vincci and a black Clark's sleek stiletto. I let my wild curl rested on my shoulders. To complete this look, I brought my Gucci handbag and I think, I think I still looked perfect after a stretched meeting about training programmes.

I looked up. A young adult of about 15 or 16 was looking straight at me. That is an understated statement. He was looking at my b****. I made a disgusted look on my face. He just wouldn't stop staring at them. I started to feel uncomfortable. I shifted from side to side but his expressions made me feel harassed - sexually. I thought that was the worst part. No, It wasn't. The other passengers were looking at him looking at me. I started to feel blood rushing to my face and the boy laughed, looking right into my eyes as if he was having a hard on but then it changed to something in between adoration and teenager-in-love kinda look. One thing went through my mind: this kid had never seen b**** before.