Dear Domai

Michelle and I were graduate students in the molecular biology department, and worked out of the same lab. I thought she was stunningly attractive from the first time I met her, but could not work up the courage to ask her out. Her quiet, introverted nature was somehow rather intimidating.

There was one particularly memorable experiment that we collaborated on. We spent much of the day in the lab, monitoring the test instruments. When the tests were finished and printouts generated, she suggested a nearby coffee shop to check out the results. It sounded much more appealing than to remain cooped up inside.

As we left the lab building, we discovered the afternoon had turned out quite warm and pleasant (the lab can be a bit chilly sometimes). Michelle stopped for a moment to remove her sweater. Her blouse underneath climbed up with the sweater, revealing smooth skin around her stomach area and just a hint of her breast curves. She was clearly not wearing a bra, yet she made no effort to catch her blouse. I wondered if she was not aware of the exposure, or perhaps simply was not self-conscious or concerned.

We continued the short distance to the next building, where the coffee shop was. After we had settled down with our drinks and papers, we went over the printouts from the lab results. One sheet in particular had rather unexpected results. I passed the sheet halfway across the table in order to point out the problem. As Michelle leaned over the table for a closer look, the top of her blouse drooped lower, providing a generous view of her chest. Her breasts were gently rounded and modest in size, swaying slightly as she leaned.

I was caught off-guard by the unexpected, but welcome sight. My eyes must have lingered too long, because as she looked up and asked me where the problem was, she noticed the direction of my eyes. She tilted her head in confusion, then glanced glanced down, and noticed her blouse hanging open. Caught with my hand in the cookie jar. I stammered an apology for my rudeness, fully expecting the usual slap in the face. When she looked back at me, she just shook her head and smiled.

Instead than covering herself, which I had expected, she just directed my attention back to the sheet and asked again where the problem was. As she digested the numbers in silence, my eyes couldn't help wandering back to her soft, inviting breasts. I guess she just wasn't concerned or ashamed of her body. I saw her differently from that point on, no longer as intimidated or afraid.

When we had finished our discussion of the results, I worked up my courage, and asked her out to dinner. She shook her head once again, and said she already had other plans that evening. Then she smiled and said she was free the following night.

Since that memorable day, we have been together now for a little over two years. Whenever we look back at our first coffee date, she still jokes occasionally about how I was a "naughty boy".

Erric