She was an attractive girl, so I have to admit a certain familiarity with the shape of her breasts… in knit tops, v-neck dresses, loose white t-shirts: The casual top slope, the hint of the bottom curve, their perfect balance between pert, proportioned, and sag.
Her towering frame practically thrust them in my face every time we hung out, which in a good month, was often. And I’m not even a breast man, preferring to steal glances at her calves when she crossed her legs (pointing the toe tenses the calf), or the profile of a thigh as she got in and out of the car.
But it wasn’t the natural perfection of her breasts (only slightly too large for her frame) or the taper of her leg. Her expression of innocence, that’s what really entranced me, and the wizened twinkle in her eye.
How can one so young have so much faith?
And she believed in everything. I’m not sure you really could, but she did, and she preferred not to talk about her beliefs, ever. They’d just slip out in daily conversation, like one day we were talking about crystals.
She’d purchased crystals, each nominated to separate influences, to cure all manner of ills and bestow good fortune. “You wear them on your body,” she explained, “so that their energy is as close to you as possible.” She dug a rawhide pouch of stones from her right boot.
“How’d you fit them in there?”
She shrugged. “They just do.” She poured the stones into her left hand and poked at them with a finger. “This one is blue lace agate. It’s supposed to help you express your views in a positive way. This blue one is Topaz. It helps with communication, especially for artists. This is green calcite. It helps you conquer your fears so you can flourish. Moonstone helps you stay in contact with your higher self. This one is rose quartz, and it heals heartache.”
I poked at the smooth stones as she replaced them in the pouch. “You use just one of each?”
“No I have a bunch.” She dives into her shirt and with some effort somewhere beneath her left breast, she removes her hand, now full of stones.
Wouldn’t the breast have looked lumpy? How had I missed that many rocks stuffed in her shirt? And despite the number of crystals, her breast looked no different.
With the left hand, she dives into the other breast, rummages, and produces another handful crystals.
For certain, I’d seen no change in the size or shape of either breast, but the two had mined a mountain of crystal threatening to tumble out of her hands. “Do you need so many?”
“I think so,” she said. “It keeps me extra lucky.” She returned a handful to first, the left breast, and then, the right breast. She adjusted each slightly, and that was that.