Let's take a braless Cindy to the shoe store.

"Shoe store?" You offer and I give you a patient look. You tap at your phone and my purse dings and I step off, you following along after me.

I shortly come to a sudden halt at a kitchy junk stand that sells, among other pointless trivialities, calendars. "Awww, look at the puppies!" I turn half toward you, bending over generously, my arms pressing in front of my to nudge my breasts as far up my already dangerously low neckline as I can manage.

You stare blankly down my accentuated cleavage, the hint of my large, dark nipples ever-so-subtly peeking out at the edge of my top.

"You know what they say, look with your hands..." I offer gently.

You reach out, fingers slipping easily between the smooth skin, your hand pressing into the tender flesh of my breast. Your thumb slips around the far side of one breast, your hand clenching gently across my nipple as I giggle, a teasing shiver shooting down my spine as your fingers slip back out.

"Shall we?" I stand and turn around, stepping into the shoe store directly behind me and casually traipsing along to the back. You follow.