Generally speaking, there are those of us who neglect certain areas of our lives until they become almost catastrophic before we do anything about them. That was my situation in this case.

I had watched her as she moved through the crowded street, mingling with the other participants in this certain civic function, wondering exactly how she could stand up so straight with something that big in front of her. Her proportions seemed overwhelming for her frame, and she just didn't seem to fit in with the rest of the crowd.

The secret places within my mind had taken over, those secret places that I can only go to be with all those imaginary lovers I've collected over the years. Placing her in there, I cuddled up next to those massive mounds of mammary flesh, wondering just exactly what it would be like to feel her breasts as they caressed my body, as she moved back and forth across me.

The meal that was served that day was the traditional BBQ Beef with all the trimmin's, including the baked beans that contain little rocks that sometimes are not found by anyone before the baking starts. I discovered them the hard way, a catastrophic event that led me to the nearest telephone to make an appointment with the dentist.

The next morning, with a certain amount or fear and anguish, I stepped into the dental office, all of the fears returning to me from previous visits. Remembering the statement, "You'll feel a little sting now." Bullshit, a little sting! A sharp, mind- numbing experience that goes all the way down to your toes! Shifting now to total recall and remembering that Novocain doesn't kill pain, only delays it. Gives the pain a chance to build little pain buddies for that inevitable attack that will come just after the nap you think will make everything all better. Fifteen minutes of waiting, only to find out that the "little sting" has not actually numbed everything that needs numbing when the licensed practitioner of the art sticks his drill into the hole to prepare the socket for the material that will be the filling.

And as I stood there in almost total fear, not having taken a breath of air for some time, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. And as if my subconscious had a "Screaming Yellow Honker - Big Breast Alert" going off, I swung around to see what I thought must have been an hallucination brought on by all the fear.

As I darted to my left to peer down the hallway where this vision had gone, I forgot about the object that most professional people put in their offices to make it resemble something remotely home-like, to reassure the patrons that they are in no danger at all: the dreaded magazine holder known as a coffee table stood in my way.

Looking up from the floor --with people standing over me and asking if I was all right-- was more excitement than I had expected from this particular visit. But in the midst of this crowd was something I had not thought would be part of the dental experience: a low - cut, rather small, button-up-the-front smock that the dental assistant was wearing while working that day. And it belonged to the woman I had seen at the BBQ dinner that had eventually brought me to this office.

After all was found to be in working order, I was escorted "the chair", the chair that had been the focal point of my fears. Sitting down and reclining in the chair... having the assistant place a bib on my chest and secure it behind my neck... while she stood in front of me. Variety that I liked.

She was standing behind me as she reached over to arrange the implements the dentist would be using on me later. And as she did, she was dragging her breasts from the back of my head to the front. Her nipples were within tongue's reach, an temptation that was hard to resist.

It was difficult at best to listen to what the dentist was saying to me when, at various times, the assistant would reach for something and pound me with those melons she had attached to her chest. And the biggest problem that I could see was that she was totally unaware of what she was doing. I am sure she knew she was touching me, but perhaps during the time she had worked there, she had become so accustomed to the procedure that she had forgotten what her movement might do to others aren't as innocent as she about things like that.

In my forty-some years to that point, I'd had my teeth cleaned once, and had not enjoyed the experience. Now I make regular visits to my dentist's office to perfect my oral hygiene. It's an area that needs the attention of a trained professional in a smaller- than- usual dental smock.

My teeth are now the cleanest they have ever been in my entire life.