“Who is that?” I asked. “Was he a boyfriend?”
Mrs. Kaufman said, “Not really, he was just a boy in my class who I’d known since third grade.”
Her gown showed a lot of cleavage, so I asked, “That dress looks daring. Did you enjoy showing off your endowment?”
Mrs. Kaufman replied, “Ha, I suppose I did back then, but I learned that there is a price to pay.”
“A price?”
“Oh yeah, the guys get ideas, and this one sure did. After the dance, later that night, I had quite a wrestling match with him to keep him from touching me ‘there.'”
I asked, “Did that happen a lot?”
Mrs. Kaufman replied, “No, some boys were polite, but others weren’t.”
“Do you think I am polite?” I asked her.
“Oh, yes, you’ve always been a perfect gentleman,” she answered.
“I’m glad you feel that way because I wouldn’t want to bother you with these questions,” I said. “I have another question.”
“That’s ok, it’s actually kind of nice to be asked about all this. I’m actually flattered that you are curious about this sort of thing,” said Mrs. Kaufman.
I took my next leap. “What about nipples? At first, were they small, and do they change over the years?” I was quiet for a moment then added, “I hope that isn’t too personal to ask.”
Mrs. Kaufman looked at me and said, “Of course that is a very personal question.” She paused, and I thought that was the end of my prying and playing with her. But she went on, “I can’t speak for every woman, but my nipples have changed over time.”
As she spoke, I could feel a change come over her, as if she was dropping her guard. How would she respond if I asked her to let me see her nipples?
“That is fascinating,” I said. “Can you describe how they looked at first and how they have changed?”
Mrs. Kaufman was breathing more heavily, which caused her breasts to rise and fall and put on more of a display that delighted me. She said, “At first, they were just…”
I jumped in, “rosebuds?”
“Yes, like little rosebuds,” she said. “Just little pink flowers on the tippy-top of my breasts.”
“Were they a problem under your clothes? Did you have to hide them from the boys?” I asked her.
“Of course,” said Mrs. Kaufman. “The little training bras that my mother gave me were pretty soon too thin and flimsy, and I got lots of stares in school because of my nipple points.”
“Nipple points?” I said, “That’s a good way to describe the problem. I can see how that would be bad.”
“It would be awful, especially in cold weather,” she said.
“Oh, right,” I answered. “So what did you do?”
Mrs. Kaufman said, “A lot of the girls had this problem, and we used pads or bandaids to hide our nipples.”
I kept probing, “Did things other than cold weather cause pointy problems?”
She thought for a while then told me, “Yes, there were times when they would get rubbed accidently while passing in the school hallways, and even a little bit of touch like that could bring on the problem.”
“Did that cause arousal?” I asked. “Did that sort of casual touch make your nipple points show because it felt good?”
Now I knew I was in the danger zone. So far, it had felt natural to ask Mrs. Kaufman all these questions, and she kept answer them. But now, we were talking with each other about sexual arousal.