I felt like a nervous wreck as I approached him, my man on the bus. He had saved me a seat next to him. I sat. I had flash backs to the previous day, his eyes wondering around under my blouse and bra, only today, my bra was in my handbag.
“Thanks for the seat,” I said, trying to remember my manors. I stared at him, trying to judge if their was any guilt for ogling my breasts. He was not making eye contact with me; his gaze was fixated on my baby bump.
As I put my hand over my belly as a barrier he replied “My pleasure, thank you for sitting next to me.” He said it with a smile, but his sight was still fixed.
I really didn’t mind his focus on my belly, I am proud of my bump and of my pregnancy and I always stare at other pregnant tummies and try to guess how far along they are. Lowering my guarding hand from my bump, I rearranged the creases in my blouse and folds of my tartan skirt so that the contours of my tummy could be seen more easily. As I did so, I realised that I was still pantiles and braless. I felt excited, brave and daring, I was finding a way of overcoming my prudishness, and it felt fantastic.