May 1 - The Breast Room

They were in bed making out.
"God, I love your breasts," he said.
She laughed.
"They're just so--God."
"Thank you."
"I wish I could just spend the afternoon in a room made of your breasts."
They kissed a bit more.
"What?"
"What?"
"What'd you say about a room full of breasts or something?"
"Ha ha. Yeah. Your breasts just feel so nice. I wish I could be surrounded by just them for an afternoon."
"You want a room made out of my breasts?" The kissing slowed down.
"Well, um, yeah. They just feel so nice and perfect and, um, nice. Don't worry, it's a compliment. Ha ha."
"No, I'm sure it is. I just want to make sure we're on the same page here." The kissing had stopped completely now, and she was sitting upright. Breasts covered. "So like, you want a room made out of my breasts? Just, like, my breasts in actual size replicated a bunch of times and covering the floor, the walls, the ceiling? I just want to make sure I'm picturing this correctly."
"Well--"
"And is there furniture in this room that's also made out of my breasts? A breast sofa? Breast lamps?"
"I really hadn't thought it out that far. Come on, you're being silly." He tried to kiss her.
"But it's just my breasts, right? I'm not actually in this room. It's just, I don't know, hundreds of sets of my breasts in there."
"Um--"
"And is it just the boob, just the fleshy part? Or are there nipples all over the place, too? Because those are two entirely different situations."
"Seriously, I didn't think it through. You're right, though. It's weird. A room consisting solely of your breasts would be, um, yeah. No, that's a weird idea. Ha ha. Just forget I ever said it." He tried to pull her over to him again.
"But, like, how would my breasts--I don't even know how to ask this question. I guess I'm wondering about logistics. Like, I can only assume you would've had to have cloned them."
Now he'd become a genetic scientist.
"Seriously, forget I ever said anything."
"Well yeah, but you did."
"How about if we just rewind to about one minute ago. Let's just go back to that time and, like, be there. I'll have more of a filter this time. Actually, I'll just not think that. No more thoughts of breast rooms. Can we do that?"
"No, I'm not mad. I'm just saying. That's a really fucked-up thing to fantasize about."
"I wouldn't say I was fantasizing about it. I mean, it's not like I sit around while you're not around and think of a lounge made of your boobs."
"So now it's a lounge? Before it was just a room, but now it's a specific room?"
"No, I--"
"Well, that's what you said, right? You're over there thinking about your little boob lounge. Presumably I'm not around, but that's OK. You've got the best part of me all around you, so, you know, yea you."
"I--Jesus." He sat up next to her. "You have no idea how much I wish I could take that back. It was stupid and weird and yeah, I seriously didn't think it would upset you so much, and I'm sorry. I really am."
"You didn't think it would upset me? So you did stop to think about it then. You got the boob room idea in your head, thought about what my reaction would be, and figured I would be flattered by it or at the very least not repulsed by it. At any rate, you must have thought I would give you a favorable response, that overall I would be pro-boob room, and then out it came. Does that sound about right?"
"Honestly, I don't remember. You've got to believe me. Maybe I thought about it, but I--crap. I don't know. I definitely didn't expect it to be such a big deal. Otherwise, of course I never would've said it."
"But you did think about it. And you thought I would be fine with it. You thought I would be delighted that you wanted to lounge out in a room made entirely of my breasts."
"There's absolutely nothing I can say at this point to make this OK again, so I'm not going to say anything else."
"Fine." She got up.
"Wait. Where are you going?"
"What do you care? You're done talking, right?"
"Come on, don't. Just--I'm sorry, OK?"
"What are you even sorry about? You don't even know, do you?"
"Whatever it is you're upset about, that's what I'm sorry about."
"Nice try," she said leaving.
And as she left, he was equal parts ashamed and relieved. Ashamed that he'd ruined their evening, and relieved that things hadn't progressed to the point where he might have commented on her vagina instead.