On bras and breasts

You decide to turn the tables. "You first," you say with a gentle squeeze, making Dahlia gasp. "What's your cup size?"

Dahlia looks slightly surprised by your question. "34C, but that's not exactly an appropriate question in a business setting, Nick," she says, calmly but firmly.

"Why not?" You say, a bit taken aback. "If it's completely normal to discuss my penis, it should also be normal for men to talk to women about their breasts. I mean, I'm fondling yours right now," you say.

"Of course," Dahlia says, relaxing a little. "I'm not sure what I was thinking, sorry. And about that fondling, I think you might be giving the wires in my bra a bit of a workout."

You're caught very much by surprise by the second gentle rebuke in a row, and yank your hand from her jacket. "Oh sorry!" You say. She doesn't seem at all upset, so you ask about it. "But don't you get groped all the time as the receptionist?"

"Oh sure," says Dahlia, settling in to talking shop. "But most men are in a hurry and just give me a quick pat or two, not the really friendly kneading you were giving me."

You muse. "Every woman must constantly have this problem. It would be better if women didn't need to wear bras for support, so that they wouldn't have to wear them, or could just wear light ones for fashion purposes."

"That would certainly be more convenient," Dahlia replied with a small sigh. "Well, I have to get back to this newsletter the boss has me working on. Have a nice day Nick."

"You too Dahlia!" This strange morning keeps getting stranger, and you don't really know what the boundaries are. Not much to do about it, though, but to go to your desk and get to work.