Yellow Polka Dot Bikini(s)

"Size? You mean, small, medium, large or extra large?"

"No women's clothes are much different than men's clothes. What bust size does she wear?"

"Bust? You mean, chest," I asked moving my hands around my chest, as if measuring a tree that I was about to take down with my chainsaw.

"She's talking about the tits, sorry, cup size," said Dave with a shit eating grin, "like a 36DD," he said holding his hands in front of his chest, as if he was feeling honeydew melons, again, at the supermarket, while staring at her breasts.

"Yes, it would be the same size as her bra," she said taking another step away from Dave and closer to me.

I paused before answering her question, as to what size I needed. Enjoying the quiet moment, knowing how frantic everything would be once I gave her my answer, I imagined that this must have been the same silence that existed just before the big bang exploded the universe. First there was nothing and then God created everything, including this beautiful and bodacious, blue-eyed blonde standing in this Brazilian Beach Bikini Boutique.

"I take a size 46," I said flashing her my best sincere smile, while blinking my eyes really fast.

She looked at me before looking at Dave. Professional in her demeanor, as well in her appearance, she didn't miss a step in her stride to make a second sale. I was proud of her salesmanship and thankful that she didn't summon security.

"Will we be fitting you, too?"

"Of course, Sugar," said Dave with a limp wristed wave and with his other hand on his extended hip, while giving her his best gay impersonation. Figuring that I was goofing on her, no doubt, I knew Dave was just playing along, but the saleswoman thought he was seriously gay. "Wait, no, I was just kidding. I'm not buying a bikini," he said, after the saleswoman gave him a knowing look.

"Dave," I said pulling him away. "What's your name," I asked the saleswoman?