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My dentist, at the time, was a woman, a young woman, an attractive young woman. As she leaned very close above me, busily engaged in repairing my broken tooth, I, laid back horizontal in the chair, had nothing to look at but her face, and more particularly, her eyes. She, however, concentrating the whole time on my tooth, was not considering where I might be looking. The task at last finished, once again on my feet, I noticed what I had not seen before. My lovely young dentist had put on some weight just round the middle. As I smiled at her and put out my hand to hers - in thanks or congratulation? - she leaned towards me and returned my smile most charmingly. What could I do? A formal British handshake? No! A small kiss on the cheek, and then, in continental style, another small kiss on the other one, a spontaneous, friendly gesture, nothing more. If in fact it had crossed my mind at that point that it might be a not altogether unpleasant experience to take the average of the two kisses I had planted on her cheeks, and give her a third on the lips that were now beautifully visible to me, I resisted the inappropriate temptation, so swiftly I might not even have thought it at all. Except that, on reflection, I probably did think it.
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Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 2:53 PM UTC
The Day I Kissed the Dentist, mark 2
My dentist, at the time, was a woman, a young woman, an attractive young woman. As she leaned very close above me, busily engaged in repairing my broken tooth, I, laid back horizontal in the chair, had nothing to look at but her face, and more particularly, her eyes. She, however, concentrating the whole time on my tooth, was not considering where I might be looking. The task at last finished, once again on my feet, I noticed what I had not seen before. My lovely young dentist had put on some weight just round the middle. As I smiled at her and put out my hand to hers - in thanks or congratulation? - she leaned towards me and returned my smile most charmingly. What could I do? A formal British handshake? No! A small kiss on the cheek, and then, in continental style, another small kiss on the other one, a spontaneous, friendly gesture, nothing more. If in fact it had crossed my mind at that point that it might be a not altogether unpleasant experience to take the average of the two kisses I had planted on her cheeks, and give her a third on the lips that were now beautifully visible to me, I resisted the inappropriate temptation, so swiftly I might not even have thought it at all. Except that, on reflection, I probably did think it.
This is the record of a true event.
paul-hansford
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Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 2:53 PM UTC
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