Sexy tales: eyesex, scandal, drama, and partial nudity guaranteed.

Monday, September 6, 2010

Tales From Orchestra Tour II: In Which There Is Partial Nudity

Free day in Denver!  Hot damn.  It was a beautiful sunny day and Denver is a wonderful city.  There was shopping, touring, walking, and general fun.  I went to the zoo with a bunch of others, and we walked around a bunch.  Dinner and drinks with Dr. B the other orchestra seniors.  Good times had by all.  The next morning we didn’t have to check out of our hotel till 11, so I got up early and went swimming/hot-tubbing, then took a walk downtown.  Very nice.  I was up at 6 and had the pool and hot tub all to myself. 

Before you roll your eyes, let me defend myself by saying that I woke up at 6 without an alarm because we had to be up very early every day on tour.   

And there may or may not have been the unspoken hope that Dr. Beauregard might be taking an early morning swim.  Just maybe.  I’m not saying I want to see him in less clothing (i.e., as little as possible).  I’m just not not saying it.  Don’t judge me, you bastards.  The man’s fucking hot.

Anyway, we did a concert that night in a suburb of Denver – I don’t remember what it was called, but it was a pretty place and a very pretty church – and naturally, since the day before had been in the high 70’s, on this day it snowed.  Hardcore.  It was a real blizzard, and everyone was a little worried, seeing as we had to get to Kansas the next day.  Shit ton of snow and ice + Two giant buses + Minivan with harp, driven by students = possible horrible death.

But the concert itself was going fine, and the weather would simply be dealt with.  I played the first half (Wagner and Ravel), then since I didn’t play in the second half (Sibelius), I opted to head back to the dressing room and change back into my civvies; it was less crowded than it would be after the concert when all the other girls came to change, and that way I could get all my stuff packed and ready to go early, and be ready to start moving all the percussion equipment as soon as the concert ended.  Plan Sadie = win.

When I got back into the girls’ dressing room (which was a big sort of fellowship hall room), one of the guys was in there talking to some of the girls, since no one else was changing.  There was a whiteboard in the back of the room, so rather than kick him out, I just took my clothes and stood behind it to change.

He left fairly soon, so I had stepped out from behind the board and was talking to some of the girls still in the room.  I was looking for my shirt when the door opened and Dr. Beauregard leaned in to ask if anyone was still there, as he wanted to start the second half of the concert.  I have never thrown myself behind a whiteboard so quickly in my life.

I can’t prove that he saw me.  I wasn’t wearing contacts or glasses, so I couldn’t see his face clearly.  But here are my reasons for believing that he did:

1.  I was in the middle of the room, right across from him.  He would have opened the door and looked straight at me.  Hard to miss.
    2.  I was shirtless.  And wearing a purple bra.  A really, really good bra.
    3.  My breasts are large and in charge.  Shit, sometimes even I can’t help but stare at them.  Again, really hard to miss.
    4.  Men stare at cleavage without thinking about it.  I was displaying several inches.  And I caught another male professor staring once when I was wearing a shirt.

On the basis of this reasoning, I believe that Dr. Beauregard did see me, in all my boobtastic glory.  But I have never figured out a good way to ask.  “Did you happen to see two – they’re really hard to miss, they’re big and round – let’s be honest, you probably didn’t see my face – ”  So this might remain a mystery forever.

If anyone knows a good way to ask, please enlighten me.  I’m genuinely curious.  I know his wife and she’s awesome and very understanding, but I don’t feel that “did your husband see my breasts?” is quite the way to go.

But I feel I can safely say I did, in fact, accomplish one of my projected tour goals, which was to catch Dr. Beauregard looking at my breasts.  In this case, it happened completely by accident.  But it STILL FUCKING COUNTS.  The other goals were more or less failures…and might have involved a locked dressing room and me removing his tuxedo very slowly…but I did the best I could.  

I could make a case, though:  Sir, fair is fair; as recompense for my embarrassment, please remove your shirt and let me watch.  And if you’re uncomfortable doing it, I’ll happily remove it for you.

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