|Bosom not Blogger's Own.|
Groin not shown.
"Oh, I saw Jillian today. My god but she has heaving bosoms."
or, "Every time Max walks into the room, the women's bosoms begin heaving."
or perhaps, "He has such raw sexual power. He gives me the heaving bosoms."
The woman in the elevator did not put her 'bosoms' together with the word 'heaving'. It's possible, of course, that they are inextricably linked in her mind - that bosoms heave just like cats purr or flowers bloom. But she didn't say it. She did, however, put her 'bosoms' together with a 'groin', which to me was even more startling.
"Watch out for your bosoms and your groin," she told the young woman next to her, who nodded politely and kept holding the cardboard box.
And I was fascinated. FASCINATED. What was going in the box? Why did the woman have to watch her bosoms and groin? What was the thing that was going in the box potentially going to do to her bosoms and groin? How was she supposed to protect said bosoms and groin from the fearsome attack of the thing-in-the-box? And why on earth was she calling them 'bosoms' and 'groin' instead of the far more colloquial 'breasts' and 'thighs', 'boobies' and 'front bottom', or even 'bazoongas' and 'vajayjay'. I mean, no-one says 'bosoms' and 'groin', unless they're some kind of weirdo 1950's doctor who is talking earnestly to a woman in a girdle and underwired bra who has strained something private.
Unfortunately for you (and me), there is no satisfactory conclusion to this story. The woman (who, for the record, was approximately 50 years old and dressed conservatively in a white shirt and tailored black pants) stepped out of the lift with the young woman (who was dressed more jauntily in a floral skirt and pale blue blouse) and disappeared on the second floor. I have no idea what happened to them, the box, or their bosoms (heaving or not) and I suspect I never will.
But if you have any clue, I'd be grateful to know. This mystery is going to give me heaving bosoms all bloody night.