Part 1
Humidity was at an all day high, droplets of water collecting in the promise of a storm.
After a much needed and relaxing weekend in the city, they had decided to take the bus home. Not just because they were still not completely sober, but also because the scenery was too good to miss.
Two light bags were shuffled into the almost empty bus. The only other passenger an old lady who sat in front close to the driver -- probably ready to talk about her ungrateful grandchildren, the weather or some other gossip they had neither interest nor patience for. Thus, they made their way to the very back of the bus, where all cool kids sit.
His slashed, black jeans and washed out white singlet allowed his skin to breathe just enough in this heat, although he already felt ready for a shower. She was just as hot and bothered. A green summer dress was all she could think of wearing, no bra of course. The less fabric, the better. Unless one counted the fabric of her black hat, which not only provided some level of protection from the sun, but also broke style and made her feel a bit more edgy.
Worn out upholstery greeted their exhausted bodies as they sank into their seats. He usually sat closer to the window, as tall as he was. Resting his shoulder on the glass, he closed his eyes. For a moment, they enjoyed the silence, only disturbed by a rumbling engine and distant conversation. They both felt comfortable sitting side by side like that, feeling each other's presence, needing no words to feel safe.
Her deep exhale made him turn his head. One leg propped against the seat in front of her to allow more air flow, eyes closed and one hand massaging her neck, she looked sublime. A fine layer of sweat covered her skin, making it glisten and shimmer in the dim light. Chest slowly rising and falling with deep, slow breaths, he realised she must be fighting some motion sickness. As sweat evaporated from her skin, he smelled her perfume; vanilla, jasmine and sandle wood, musky and powdery, an olfactory aphrodisiac that made his mouth water. Strands of blonde hair stuck to her forehead where her hat revealed it, rosy cheeks and lips, slightly parted; an expression of deep relief and settling relaxation playing on her face. His eyes marveled on the sight. Soft fabric caressing her curves, glistening skin creeping with goose bumps, tattoos shimmering in vibrant colours, nipples hard pebbles under her dress. It took his overheated brain a few second to connect the dots -- she must be getting cold in the air con! Gentleman as he was, he convinced the muscles in his left arm to move, lifted and put it around her shoulders. The reward was a satisfied moan, hat sliding off her head and placing it on his chest.
When Willis Carrier invented air conditioning in 1901, all he wanted was to make New York summers a bit easier to endure. His invention made living during hot, humid seasons more doable. She thanked the heavens for it. Closing her eyes, she felt her whole system slow down. Slightly dehydrated, hung over and sweaty as she was, her skin prickled in the cold air streaming down on her. Like a cold bath after the sauna, it took her a moment to adjust. When he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer to his chest into his familiar warmth, she sighed. When she smelled his musky, sweat, spicy scent, a welcome fluttering moved through her lower abdomen. His left hand started playing with her hair, not caring how sweaty she was. Broad shoulders and strong arms provided all the comfort and stability she needed to feel perfectly safe. Held and at home with him, her eyes became heavy and soon she started drifting off, smiling. She was, however, not fully gone, when she felt his hand moving ever so slowly down her shoulder.
She was so close, so peaceful. Beautiful. He feasted on the sight her dress offered. Of course, the scenery was amazing -- lush green, heavy rain clouds growing stronger, first droplets of rain leaving abstract traces on the glass. And yet, as often as he tried to distract himself, he was drawn back to her figure pressed against him. Her narrow shoulders fit perfectly against him, and he felt her right breast pressing against his skin. Oh, how he wanted to slide a hand in and under her dress. An idea crossed his mind. Let me play with her a little bit, get the engine rumbling -- after all, they were so well hidden from view, all the way back here; granny was busy explaining the benefits of wet cat food to a semi interested driver, whose eyes only occasionally flickered to the rear view. Trying to be as casual and elegant as possible, he shifted his weight a bit, sliding his arm down her chest. When his hand reached their goal, his thumb felt a hard nipple through soft fabric. Slowly, lazily, he started teasing and playing with it, always keeping an eye on her face.
Her eyes fluttered open, a look of confusion and surprise quickly followed by a knowing smirk. Arching her back, she signaled him to keep going, pressing her chest into the palm of his hand. In a matter of seconds, her brain did the same math his had done a few moments earlier: they had the space, the privacy and the opportunity to get a bit naughty. She wasn't worried about being caught. After all, the driver's job must be terribly boring any other day. If he'd notice anything, it would only make his day a bit more interesting. One essential condition was clear to them both: they'd have to remain perfectly quiet.
