I smiled through a daze, still giddy from being within ten feet of her. Helia was wearing an elegant formal pink satin dress, just like the one from the Madonna "Material Girl" video, with one, small, exception. Helia's breasts seemed the size of advertising balloons you find floating a hundred feet in the air to advertise blow-out specials. You had to pity whoever had the job of altering her dress. At least as much work went into the perfectly round, gigantic decoletage as in the rest of it. It had seams coming up the edges and ending at her nipples, making her breasts look distinctly like two, satiny zeppelins headed my way.

I was in Heaven. And a formal suit of some sort. She would occasionally paw at my lapel in appreciatation, teasing me with little jokes about letting the penguin out of my tux. I wasn't sure, but I think I was floating. I couldn't feel my feet, and every time she came close, I felt desperately like I might just float away.

I had just given the car to the valet parking attendant. As he approached Helia's door, he looked alarmed, as though the air bags had gone off, but after opening the door and taking her hand to help her out, his jaw went slack as each breast popped out of the exotic sports car. She rose up to her full height, and though not even that tall, seemed to tower over everyone in sight with the grace of the Statue of Liberty. She gave the attendant a little flick of her head towards my door to remind him of the other half of his obligation. Waiting for her date to emerge, Helia marinated in the stares of all the fine ladies and gentlemen just outside the lobby. It was as plain as day. They either wanted to be her or touch her, but they all wanted to meet her.

I offered my arm, and she took it like a lady while affecting a supernaturally graceful stroll to the impressive brass-and-glass rotating door to the Windsor lobby. At the door, she looked a little concerned, but move on. I hadn't thought that one through either, but ladies first, so she daintily squeezed herself in one of the partitions. A little girl inside the lobby dropped her barbie doll in rapt fascination with the two satiny balloons pressed up against the glass. As Helia had virtually no room to maneuver, I did the honor of rotating the doors for her. Unfortunately, as her partition became sealed between the lobby and the outside, I encountered resistance, and could no longer push her. I gave it a really hard push, but no banana. Helia was facing the lobby, but I could see in her agitated state that I had better do something fast before this date went south.

I ran around to the lobby where I could face her and keep her calm. A crowd was starting to gather in rapt fascination with the stuck rotating door and its contents. So I gave the rotating door opposite her enough pressure that I could just barely expose the lip of the door sealing her in. I then got my hands around that lip and pulled for all I was worth.

With a great whoosh of release the door spun round, I fell back on my ass with a stunned wince, and down came the satiny goddess on top of me,

unable to regain her balance atop her high heels. Her giant breasts were covering my chest, threatening to suffocate me should she slide up, and I could barely breathe, not for the weight but for the joy. The gathered audience was clapping in celebration of the escape and some were clearly experiencing a contact high from my exquisite bliss.

With an embarrassed look, Helia said, "I don't normally get horizontal on a first date," and blushed as she gathered herself to stand up, but I couldn't help but think she was intentionally teasing me a bit as she slid forward just the tiniest bit before rising. Helia offered a hand to help me up, but I rose only to a sitting position and begged forgiveness while I explored my back and butt for permanent damage. Or maybe I was waiting for the penguin to stand down.

As I stared into her eyes, I asked what she would like to drink. "I should think a cosmopolitan to start, thank you," came the reply, an elegant expression. She was soaking up every moment of this experience like a sponge. I could see it on her face.

"We'd also like a bottle of the Stag's Leap cab, '95, please." The maitre d' left to fetch the waiter and drinks, which left me with the first uncomfortable moment of the evening. What should I open with? "How was your day?" Oh god, how pathetic. "Tell me about yourself." Christ, how vague was that? I panicked behind a practiced smile of contentment.

Helia saved the moment. With a playful smile, she asked "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"I want to be a writer, a coder, an actor, a director, a politician, an engineer, a singer, and a clothing designer." I was about to run out of fingers and thought better of it.

Helia giggled and shook her head. She blushed, then said quietly, "I want to be a model."

"What kind? Would you want to be a hand and foot model? You've beautiful, porcelain skin. Or would you want to model jewelry? I cannot imagine a more velvety, plush background. Maybe clothes? This dress, for one, is so enchanting, I wonder whether there's any point to disrobing again." It felt good to get out. It was awkward trying to act cool about perfection.

Helia sat perfectly still. Her mouth was slightly agape, as if she was about to accidentally drool. With a quick sucking sound from the corner of her lip, she regained her composure. "You know... I uh... that is.." She seemed to be panting and kept swallowing. "Could you please excuse me? I have to visit the lady's room."

I stood up as she excused herself to the loo, hoping desperately I hadn't upset her. Did I miss something? Did she want to be some other kind of model? A hair model? A lip model? What was I missing? Was it a funny time of month?

The ladies bathroom in the Windsor hotel had a waxed hardwood floor, walnut stalls with panels of pleated red leather, and a cherry toilet seat on an old fashioned water closet, where the tank is suspended near the ceiling, and a chain affixed to a wooden handle hangs down. Even the Windsor bathrooms were exquisite! Sparing no expense, the back of this seat slipped forward like the chair in a movie theater, as if to comfort a woman for a particularly long visit.

Helia was flush with desire, telling herself to be a lady, not to blow the first date, repeating to herself that *he* was the one who should be breathless, terrified, quivering, not her! She went to a stall to have a sit and recompose herself, but as she backed into it, the sides of her breasts pressed up against the red, pleated leather, making her a very tight fit.

After calming herself down, Helia attempted to get up, but discovered that with her knees at right angles, she had no leverage to overcome the friction her breasts were creating, caught between the leather walls. She tried again, and managed only to lose her tenuous footing and nearly sprain an ankle with her high heels. "Oh no. Oh no, oh no," she chanted. "Is anyone in here? Could someone help me up?" she asked of the empty bathroom as a sense of familiar panic settled upon her.

I tapped lightly, and said, "Is everything alright in there?" but realized that it had only come out as a whisper. Oh boy. I gulped. Why did lady's bathrooms seem so taboo? I cautiously cracked open the door and heard a delicate, broken voice begging between sobs, "pleeeease, anyone, someone help meeeee."

"Helia, is that you? Are you alright?" I said through the crack, trying not to look in. I heard the crying get forcibly choked back into a whispering whimper, as though a small furry animal had been caught in a trap and knew its end was near. Perhaps this was par the course for women's bathroom drama, but it sounded really bad.

I looked around me to see if anyone would notice, and slipped into the bathroom. I saw Helia's shiny black heels and the hem of her pink satin dress under the stall. "Helia?" I asked again. I heard her attempt several replies which all got swallowed in sobs. I stood outside the stall door now. "Do you need help? You sound like you're in pain. Do you want me to come in?"

"yes" came the reply.

I carefully opened the door outwards to see Helia sitting on the loo with her dress still on, not even hiked up. She looked up at me, like a puppy who had been forgotten for days in the back yard, and said, "puh-please help me up. i'm-i'm stuck." in a pained, diminutive voice.

I swallowed and closed the stall door in the hopes that no one would notice this man violating the sanctity of the lady's room. I bent down close and gave her a reassuring expression, "It's going to be alright. Please forgive me if I'm being too forward." I rubbed my hands a couple of times on my breast as they didn't seem worthy to be touching Helia's satiny perfection, swallowed again, then reached beneath both breasts to give a solid pull upwards, like I might to pick up a pile of fire logs. I didn't dare reveal the rapture I felt just touching Helia like this, just standing this close to her. Think about firewood, firewood, firewood, I told myself.

Instead of heroicly freeing the damsel in distress, the slick soles on my dress shoes gave way, and I fell face-first into Helia's unbelievable cleavage. Helia let out a moan. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you? I didn't mean to," was the automatic response. It seemed rude to speak to her breasts, so I squirmed up to eye-level and apologized as I attempted to get my feet underneath me and stand up again for another heave-ho. My feet slipped again, only this time I could have sworn I felt Helia's legs actually knock them out from under me.

I got a good, close-up look at Helia's face, and it seemed like she was drugged, high as a kite. I took a deep sniff and was rewarded with the intoxicating scent of her skin instead of the marijuana I was expecting. She definitely wasn't smoking pot in here, but the smell of her skin had the effect of a Rastafarian joint the size of a cuban cigar. I was inches from her full, delicious lips and could feel her hot breath. As I tried to struggle away again before my erection was discovered, I felt her hand grab my belt buckle and the top of my pants and pull me towards her. The effect was an electric bolt shooting from my belly button down to my penis.

As a result of our struggles, Helia was trapped even further back in the stall, but she didn't seem to mind, now. The toilet lid had done its little movie theater chair trick and jutted forward, thrusting her waist at me. Helia was moaning fairly non-stop now and was whispering "touchme" between moans. As my arms were under her breasts in my last attempt to release her, I was slipping off her like a velvety slide, so I instead reached over her breasts and held on like they were two balloons suspending me hundreds of feet over the ground, that I dare not let go of.

I was suddenly aware of my rod pressing painfully into my jeans and too obviously against her crotch. As much as I was relishing every moment, I felt wrong doing this, doing this on a first date I mean, so I made a last attempt to retreat, and this time I felt Helia's legs splay wide, forcing mine to splay wide and giving me no leverage at all. I was entirely trapped, and knew I my resolve would not last another five minutes.

Helia's tiny hands were still clasped to my belt but were unbuckling and unzipping me. "I love undressing a well-dressed man," she cooed, "Please don't fight me." That did it. I was jello. I heard the belt clasp tinkling, her two hands flitting about below seemed like fairies casting a spell on my pants.

I felt the belt go free, and her hands, which were so smooth they seemed almost to have a layer of talc on them glided across my skin effortlessly, sending shocks of joy like the last only somehow made clean and pure by the contact with her perfect skin. That focused me to a fine edge. This was what life was all about- damn the consequences. Moments of serendipity you would never forget the rest of your life, whether with ecstasy or regret. I gave myself over to ecstasy as I slowly pulled Helia's full-length dress up along her glassy legs.

Helia's head was pushed so far back in the stall, swallowed so thoroughly by her own immense breasts, that I could only hear her moans muffled through the valley of her pillows. I imagined her sensation as being trapped in a padded cell, packed to the ceiling with soft, pliant balloons. My head was buried to the ears between them.

Almost unaware of my oxygen deprivation between her impossible mounds, I thought I heard helia recite a bible verse, "My lover is to me a sachet of myrrh resting between my breasts," and I thought for a moment I caught the warm smell of dried roses and chestnut. I was afloat in pure bliss.

Someone had opened the bathroom door.

We could hear the woman's high heels on the hardwood floor walking uncertainly towards our stall. I could feel my heart pounding. While one hand held me between Helia's enormous breasts to prevent me from making a sound, Helia's other hand contradicted sense by tracing my belly button with her pinky. I struggled to keep back moans of pleasure, and the asphyxiation was only intensifying the delirium that single pinky was creating.

The woman was standing directly outside our stall, now. What was she doing there? Even Helia's torturous pinky had hesitated, not knowing what to expect of this woman outside our stall.

"Excuse me, miss," came a nervous, young voice.

Neither Helia nor I breathed a word, not that I could breathe at all plunged this deep between her magnificent rack.

"I'm so sorry to bother you here, but I couldn't help but notice you in the restaurant. I just wanted to say that I think you're.. the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

I could hear and feel Helia's breathing rhythm change, but still no response.

"I'm sorry," said the girl, who choked back a cry and scampered her high-heeled feet over to the bathroom door, fleeing the embarrassment of the moment.

"Wait," came Helia's voice from behind the mountain range behind which her mouth had set, "Come back." The scampering feet stopped and hesitatingly walked back toward our stall. "Open the door."

"Nuuummpppph!" came my cry from within the chasm, "I'm haph nkd!" But my protest came too late. The door opened, and neither of us had a clue who was standing there, but the girl stifled a very surprised sound somewhere between a giggle and a cough.

"I know this looks funny, but this is my date, and when I got stuck, he fell in trying to help me out of the stall. Please help us out, Miss uh..."

"..Cindy Fields. I'm here with my Mom, celebrating my birthday. I'm eighteen," replied the girl.

Helia let go of my package and pants. "Nice to meet you Cindy. Please help him off me."

I felt small hands grab my ankles and pull. I flopped out from between Helia's bounty, surprised and panicky like a fish that wants back in the water. I wasn't really half naked. My pants were unbuttoned, my fly unzipped, and my semi-hard dork was hanging out. Cindy started at my member more curious than upset, then her expectant gaze turned to my face.

"I fell down," came the lame excuse. I frantically tucked the engorged snake back into my pants, then zipped, buttoned, and belted.

With a great deal of huffing and puffing, we extracted Helia from her prison.

Helia was flushed with exertion and embarrassment. "Thank you, Cindy. I'm sorry to have put you through this on your eighteenth birthday. I'm Helia Melonowski."

"You're kidding," came Cindy's shocked reply. "The Helia Melonowski?"

Helia blushed even further. "Well yes, I suppose so."

"You're the woman my Mom was talking about! She wants to meet you!" squealed Cindy.

Helia smiled for Cindy while giving me a private "what on earth?" look. "So, that's great, Cindy! Um, who is your Mom? Maybe I know her?"

"My Mom is Cynthia Fields!"

Helia went pale and pointed at the bathroom exit. "Cynthia Fields is sitting out there in that restaurant?" Her pointing finger was shaking.

"Yes! It's my birthday!" repeated Cindy, as if to imply Helia were her gift. Cindy's smile was on high-beam and was ready to explode with excitement. She bolted out of the bathroom, probably to tell her Mom Helia was in the lavatory.

Helia rushed to the mirror, her enormous boobs unused to the excitement, bouncing everywhere, and started rifling through her purse for a brush. Her lips didn't move, but she was repeating the mantra, "oh sweet jesus oh sweet jesus oh sweet jesus."

"I don't understand, who is this.. uh.." I said, stumbling to remember the name. I think my brain was still in my dick. It's hard to disengage like that.

"Cynthia Fields, dear, is CEO of Victoria's Secret," said Helia matter-of-factly, poised menacingly with a pair of tweezers while cocking an eyebrow at her reflection in search of an errant hair.

"Victoria's Secret," I repeated, still not really getting it. "Don't they sell underwear?"

"Yes," said Helia through a winning smile at her reflection. She wiped a bit of lipstick off her front tooth. "How do I look," she said, turning to face me.

"Breath-taking!" I said, fondly remembering my bout with suffocation in the stall.

She hugged me fiercely, composed herself, made a few graceful steps towards the bathroom exit, took in a deep breath, then pushed open the door.

"I'm so so so sorry! I didn't mean to hit you in the nose! Oh, no!" Helia broke eye contact to scan the room, trying to find Cindy to see if Cynthia Fields had seen her do this horrible thing to this poor woman. Helia bent down to help, and her breasts covered the woman's lap. The injured lady's eyes widened as her vision cleared through the tears, only a moment ago headed for the bathroom and now covered in a sea of breast flesh.

"You must be Helia," she said through the hand over her nose. The woman offered her other hand over Helia's immense breasts. Helia shook it. "I'm Cynthia, Cindy's Mom."

"Oh, hi," said Helia through uncomprehending eyes. "I really have to go, I.." Helia stood up, too quickly, and fainted dead away. Cynthia couldn't quite manage a "woah" before Helia's collapsing cleavage buried its victim.

Helia came to on a sumptuous red velvet couch. I leaned over her, holding her hand as she opened her eyes. She looked at the side of the couch, back at me, and wrinkled her brow, and complained, "I'm hungry."

"We haven't had dinner, Helia, but we're about to. We're in Ms. Field's mansion. She insisted on flying us here, calling the cooks in, and feeding us dinner. I think she's trying to impress you," I whispered with a sly grin, having seen this so many times and remembering warmly what Helia wanted to be when she grew up.

Helia almost squealed with delight, "Me?!"

I couldn't help but tease her. "I don't know. You bopped her on the nose pretty hard. It looks like her face is wearing a doorknob. Maybe she just wants to poison you," came my mischievous reply.

Helia gave me a disapproving jab but laughed. After a little silence, she said the sweetest thing. "This is the best date I've ever had."