Day Trip Act 1

Act One - The Encounter

"The Sanguine Rose?"

"Yup," I replied, concentrating so hard on my book that the pages smoked, "That's the title."

"Pretty silly name for a romance novel, isn't it?" she said. In truth, I couldn't say. I've never read a romance novel. Romance and I had very little in common. Why she figured that the book in my hand was something other than a Political Thriller mystified me. Still, who was I to argue with a complete stranger?

"Sure is," I said, not even bothering to look over at her. "It's a silly sounding title." My flat, neutral voice suited my mood perfectly. I just wanted to read my book and get on with my day and to my destination. Wherever that was.

The woman had other ideas.

"What's it about?" she asked as she crossed the aisle separating us and plopped down in the vacant seat beside me. "What role does a blood-red rose play in the storyline?"

"Huh? Red rose?"

"Yeah. What did you think that 'sanguine' meant?"

Actually, I'd not given it any thought, seeing as I was only twelve pages into the book. It appeared I'd get no further today. I snapped the book closed and turned my head so I could stare outside through the dirty window. The skewed, backwards images rushed by in the reflection on the bus window, the washed out colours bearing only a muted semblance to reality. The faded representations of the buildings and the people who tenanted them flickered in the reflection, details lost by the dusty glass pane. Sometimes I felt as warped as the window, reflecting not what was, but how I'd like things to be.

Unfortunately, things rarely turned out the way I wanted them to. I let out a great sigh that wracked my entire body.

"Melancholy? Why so sad?"

I think I preferred her earlier line of questioning.

A dainty hand moved into my lap, stroking my upper thigh with firm, soothing strokes. The contact shocked me. Women rarely broached my personal space, much less laid their hands upon my person in such an intimate manner. My eyes opened wide as they looked into hers for the first time. Hers were large and round, missing absolutely nothing. They bored into my skull as if mining for precious metal. Her flounced Spanish cretonne dress fluttered in the breeze from the opened ceiling hatches, as did the crimson flower laced through her hair. She possessed a sanguine flower of her own, it seemed. I caught a whiff of spicy soap and sweet perfume, a scent all too soon buried by the reek of diesel exhaust and the uncollected, simmering garbage that stewed in the incredible heat outside. Her diminutive hand never stopped its kneading of my crotch.

Her piercing stare and intimate caress unsettled me terribly. My thoughts jammed up inside my skull, falling over each other haphazardly as they fought to exit my mouth all at once. Me trying to loosen my suddenly thick tongue as I spoke didn't help much. My response sounded like a kid's bleating. I coughed and tried again.

"I don't know, just bummed I guess."

"Just bummed, eh? If you've no real reason to be depressed I'd much rather see you act happy. Save the angst for when you really need it."

Wait a second here! Who in the hell was she to start counseling me? I was about to voice a complaint when her slender hands adroitly unzipped my pants and fished out my penis from my grey slacks. My eyes darted around, looking to see if any of the other passengers noticed us, though we were alone at the back of the bus. Her nimble fingers danced across the rubbery crown of my cock, inciting it to awaken in a rush of sudden vitality. Her deft touches had me flagpole-straight in no time.

The gentle to and fro swaying of the bus matched the rocking motions she applied to my cock. All the while her wide, liquid eyes didn't once register the peculiarity of our situation. She acted as if every person who rode the bus let strangers whack them off.

"Who are you?" I whispered. "Why are you doing this?"

"Does it really matter? Regardless of what I tell you, would you really wish me to stop?" A pink slip of tongue ran across her upper lip, slicking down her full, pouty mouth with natural gloss. Her petite grip held my cock in its velvet jaws. Her tongue flicked lazily over my cockhead, massaging the couple drops of precome into the hot skin of my pulsing shaft.

"It's just that I might want you to stop, yes. How do I know you're not some prostitute looking to score a few bucks?"

If my words offended her, she didn't let on. A provocative smile lethargically crept across her beestung lips. How she could lean so close to me yet remain firmly planted in her seat was beyond me. Her exquisite manual technique had my hips trembling, just longing to buck upwards into her grasp. The reverberations of the powerful bus engine pulsed through my entire being. My teeth chattered from the motor's vibration. That, and her wonderful handjob.

"If I'm a whore, then I hereby agree to forego my usual charges," she said.

"What do you want from me!" My patience had evaporated like the last puddle in the month-long heatwave we were presently suffering through. I refused to listen to any more of her evasions. Women always wanted to ferret out something. "No woman does anything for free."

"No woman, or no one? Why are you so down on women this afternoon?"

Shit! She goaded a person like a therapist, angering folks into saying things that they never meant to. I'd have to be careful around her.

"You know what I mean," I said, sounding much too defensive. "People don't do things like that."

"The people you know don't do things like this," she countered. "Helping a fellow traveler in distress is a noble act. Perhaps the world would be much better if people would take the time to help others." She lowered her head halfway to my crotch and released a gobbet of spit. The frothy ball landed on the tip of my penis. Her soft, delicate hand quickly worked it into the hot skin of my cock. Her massaging became erratic, her pud-pulling as random and violent as the jostling of the bus when it hit a broken patch of road or slammed into a pothole. Every bump that the bus traversed transmitted itself through my cockmeat via her tight, grasping hand.

As much as her talk annoyed me, I'd be the first to admit that she had me feeling pretty good. My head may have been bowed in a display of private irritation, but I had quite the concealed smile on my lips. Fuck, my cock felt great! The strumming of her fingers upon my most delicate of instruments mirrored the thumping of my heart within my chest, the gentle body music so incongruous with the harsh banging of the steel coffin that hurtled over the road. The touch of her pliant hand soothed me, even though she was a complete stranger to me. How quickly she became important to me, this woman whose name I didn't even know.

Didn't want to know, truth be told. Her tag meant absolutely nothing. The content of the package mattered, not its trappings.

The intimacy of the contact and my apparent need of it scared the shit out of me. I didn't like getting this close to people, not even people I've known for years. I gingerly pulled her hands from my throbbing prick and placed them into her lap. She recaptured my gaze with her puzzled expression.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No," I rasped, "you did everything right. That's the problem. I gotta go." I thrust my exposed part back into my pants and pulled the bell cord. This small chime sounded, drowned out by the screeching of the wheels as the tin coffin ground to a halt at the next street corner.

I pushed by her and went to the rear doors, eager to leave this meddlesome woman behind. The creaky door sprang open as I stepped down onto the lowest step, allowing the acrid air to pour onto the bus. I leaped into the foul miasma, welcoming its stygian embrace. I was shocked when something soft pressed itself into my back. I half-turned. The woman's lush curves and hillocks moulded themselves to me. All I could see was the top of her curly head, the luxurious mass of ringlets cascading down her back, running like unruly rivers over her smooth, bare shoulders and down her spine all the way to her firm, plump buttocks.

"Your stop as well, it seems."

"What if I said it was?" Her reply sounded muffled, seeing how her face was jammed tightly against my spine.

"Then I'd ask you where we were."

She pulled her face from my back and looked around briefly. The office towers reached up to the heavens like the splayed fingers of some buried Titan, thrusting his hands skyward in search Zeus' forgiveness.

"Wherever you stand, that's where you are," she replied a moment later. "Where do you think we are?"

Amazingly, I'd expected such an oblique answer from her.

"You don't know where we are, do you?"

"Neither do you." she said. She giggled as my body tensed up. There would be no sense lying, my body's reaction told her more than my words would. She knew that I had fled the bus to escape her. An incredibly stupid thing to do, and quite the ineffective maneuver as things turned out.

"Where are we going?" she asked as he slid her hand into mine. The tiny, moist hand melded perfectly into my own. Her head darted to and fro like a small bird’s scanning the horizon for predators.

When I didn't answer, the pixyish woman looked up into my face, searching my mind as she had the terrain mere seconds ago. Her furrowed brow told me that she found me to be much more inscrutable than the land around us.

"Well, what's the plan?" Her dainty feet, sheathed in white leather pumps clicked irritably on the concrete slabs of the sidewalk. She expected an answer, and wanted it soon.

I had no ready answer for her.

"Silence, hey? In that case, we're going this way." She pulled me along behind her as if my lack of words meant consent to her wishes. "There should be a beautiful park around here. I think it'd be nice if we took a little stroll."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Tell me a good reason why you wouldn't want to do it, and I'll leave you alone."

The truth was I had nowhere to be. If I wasn't working, I wasn't living. Not to say that I liked my job or anything, just that I hated my life even more than I did my work. Work gave me purpose. Without it, I wandered aimlessly, like today. Today was my first day among the ranks of the unemployed, and I had no idea what I should be doing with myself.

"Come, it's over here," she prompted. Obediently I followed her, letting her lead the way. "I'm sure you'll like it. Besides, now that you've lost your book what else do you have to do today?"

Lost my book? I looked down at my empty hands. I hadn't even realized that the book was missing. "You left it on the bus seat when you pushed past me," she said. I guess you were in a hurry to get to your destination.”

I wouldn't crack my teeth on that comment. If she knew I'd forgotten it, why hadn't she brought it along?

"Look how you're acting, and I came empty-handed. Imagine if I brought you a gift!" she said, answering my unasked question. "A woman likes to have one hundred percent of a man's attention. That's hard to get when his eyes are fastened to the pages of a book."

Fair enough. This woman was certainly more interesting than any book, that was for sure! But I still didn't know what she wanted with me. I’d never find out if I didn't go with her. I allowed her to pull me the three blocks to the park. We stood at the threshold, standing by the entrance.

"You ready?" she asked.

"I think so."

"Pathetic. A man should be decisive. Let's go." She started walking, her high heeled stiletto pumps clacking loudly against the sidewalk. I had to hustle to keep up with her lest my arm be wrenched out of its socket. She certainly possessed a fine figure, her small frame enhanced beautifully by the wide generous hips, slender legs, and fat breasts. I always liked women with long, thick hair. She had that in spades. She possessed a tight package stuffed to bursting in all the right places. Yes, it wasn't only curiosity that prompted me to follow her. She paid me the most attention a woman had in ages.

"Stop dawdling," she said. "Keep up or be left behind."

"What if I said I want to be left behind?" I asked. An insolent grin painted my features, one I couldn’t get rid of.

"I won't let you," she replied, a smirk crossing her own features. "You're coming with me." Her small hand jetted out, grabbing me by the cock. She strangled the stiffening serpent hiding inside the confines of my grey slacks. Her smirk became a full-blown smile. "One of you wants to come with me, anyway. Why deny him?" She gave my prick three good pumps with her hand before releasing me and gliding away.

Her charisma wrapped me in bonds stronger than steel chain. I'd follow her all right, follow her until I could figure out this vixen’s game.

At least, that was the lie I told myself.

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