Not my fault, Ass fixation

Being at my gentlemanly best, I let her walk in front of me. Suddenly, she turns around and tells me to walk in front of her. ‘I don’t want you checking me out, while I walk.’ Flabbergasted, I obliged. Later, I am told, that her paranoia is out of the fact that she herself had an ass fixation. In simple terms she checks out my ass and others, out of habit, but I can’t check out her’s. Hmmm.

A week later, I was on my way to Calcutta (I can’t call it Kolkata, no matter how hard I try). Standing in line to board the plane, I found myself following a rather shapely lady. In order to get through quickly, I usually turn up the security stamp. Out of habit, I bent down. On my way up, I see her bottom, and immediately think back to the Ass-fixation episode, and smile. Only to look up and see the lady looking back at me. She had caught me, in her opinion, staring at her ass and smiling. If looks could kill, I would have been dead. Thank God for small mercies.

But it was not my fault.
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