[agoraphile]

I found this thread about a week ago and have burned through it with a dozen ideas of things to post. There's a wide range to what counts as "low key" in here, I notice. Nothing has ever happened to me like what some of y'all are posting, so I guess it's all fair game!

When I was in college, I occasionally did tech stuff for events in the campus auditorium. One year I was handling recorded music & stage amplification for a women's pageant. Nothing salacious happened here, and I don't even have a clear memory of any specific sight, so this is near as low key as it gets. But during intermission I had some kind of programming issue and was in a panic to find one of the show sponsors to get an OK on solving it. She happened to be one of my instructors, so I was pretty comfortable with just approaching and not checking out the situation. I found her in a classroom, controlling chaos, and when nobody answered my knock I just opened the door and walked in. This problem had to get solved, or someone's performance was going to crash. I knew there were contestants inside, but everything seemed tame so I walked right up to the sponsor/instructor, asked my question, got an answer, and left, my mind settling into what I needed to do and the sense that everything was fine. She seemed a little off but I attributed it to the chaos and the number of people needing help with this or that.

Only afterwards, in mental replay, did I realize that a number of the contestants were changing clothes and in stages of underwear. These were all girls that I knew, many of whom I liked and maybe had crushes on at one time or another.

Like I said, I have no distinct memory of any of them. Anything I think I remember is stitched together from imagination and maybe the barest snippets of passing sight; I was laser-focused on something else. All that I know happened is I walked in and asked a question and walked back out. But in retrospect, I realize that 20-something classmates saw me walk in on them while they were dressing and then nonchalantly turn away, like a guy with way more confidence than I could possibly have mustered at that age. And that is a wild basis for what if.

~~~

This language instructor, by the way—*I don't think I ever saw her not wearing a stylish dress with a low-cut or lace neck. She always wore multiple layers of undergarment, but her bosom was breathtaking, and every time she leant over the desk was a dictionary definition of "the cut" where the flesh of the breast drops away from the tissue connecting to the chest. Nobody I know ever saw deeper than the top of her bra —*but that angle though!