She walked over to the popcorn maker in the waiting area and got herself a bag. She also poured herself a cup of coffee.

As she did this, I took the opportunity to check her out. I’d seen her sitting at one of the tables doing what I believe was some sort of school work.

From the front she was attractive and now I could honestly say she was attractive from the backside, too. Then I looked at her feet, where she had on a fancy pair of ostrich-skin cowboy boots.

As she stepped passed my seat, I said to her with a smile, “I love your boots.”

With a half-surprised, half-angry look on her face, she stopped and asked, “What did you say?!”

She said it with such authority that her question left me feeling unsure as I repeated, “I love your boots?”

The woman smiled warmly, “Wow, my mistake – I thought you said ‘boobs.’ Thank you for the compliment. My husband bought them for me, for my birthday last month.”

“Y-y-your w-w-welcome,” I stammered.

As she headed back to the table she occupied, and having come to within an inch of losing my life, I rapidly scanned the room for a hole to crawl into and hide.

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