A crowded city bus in the heat of Summer 1993 might not be a place to find love, but this day it was a place to fulfill other fantasies....
****
1. Summer in the city.
There's nothing quite like the oppressive heat of a hot July day in urban America. When you're stuck standing up on a crowded bus whose air conditioning was either not working or not up to the task, well... it doesn't get any better than that.
That's where I found myself on that sweltering day, hanging on to the overhead strap like a chimp while trying to stay upright despite the best efforts of the driver to send everybody flying with his abrupt stops and manic lane changes.
Sweat rolled off me as I looked out the window and tried to figure out how much longer I would have to endure this agony. The bus stopped at a traffic light, and through the window I saw the inviting signs of a tavern shining at me like a beacon.
Sam Adams, it cried out. C'mon in and throw one or two down and catch the next bus! Rolling Rock! Frosty cold and waiting inside. Why stand there in that torture chamber and get jostled by strangers even more unkempt and disgusting than you are?
The bus started again, which eliminated any decision making on my part. People squirmed by to get off the bus at their stops, and their damp seats were eagerly snapped up by others. Me, I wanted to stand up, because at least there was a little breeze passing through up there, the result of more than a few commuters opening the windows to let some moving hot air in to circulate.
At one stop, the crowd thinned out a bit, and it was then that I saw her. An attractive redhead hanging onto the pole while reading a paperback copy of Stephen King's Gerald's Game. She looked so cool, calm and collected amidst the human waste around her that it was almost spooky.
Her curly red locks framed an incredibly cute face with a smattering of freckles around her nose, with her soft green eyes firmly fixed upon her reading. A beautiful Irish lass if ever there was one. As people moved around on the bus I caught little glimpses of the rest of her, and as my curiousity grew, I shifted my place in the aisle.
It was then that I saw it. As my eyes wandered down from the slender fingers of her right hand that gripped the support rail above her and down her pale and freckled forearm, I viewed the most surprising sight. Nestled in the hollow of her underarm, a spray of hair swayed lightly in the breeze. Bright orange in color, the slight wisp of hair caught my eye immediately, being such an uncommon sight in the 1990's.
I felt my cock strain inside of my tight jeans, uncomfortably reminding me of their ill fitting nature, as I stared at the young woman with what must have been an appalling lack of tact. I subtly spun around the pole so that I was almost right next to her.
At the point, I was trying to stare at her without appearing to. I thought I was doing a good job of it too. Her eyes would occasionally come up from her book, and at those times I would look up over her shoulder at the advertisements that were plastered along the inside perimeter of the bus. I was so slick, or so I thought.
"Take a picture," she said suddenly, breaking me out of my trance.
"Take a picture, it lasts longer," she spoke just loud enough for me to hear.
She looked at me with a glare of sorts, but not the caustic stare I would have associated with her words. Her message was not delivered with any degree of anger but more like her telling me that she had caught me. That all occurred to me long after I was off the bus. While this was actually going on, I was embarrassed. Very much so, and I'm sure the crimson glow my face beamed with gave that away in case there was any doubt.
"Uh... sorry," I mumbled into my shirt as I shifted my gaze back out the window.
"Sorry you were staring or sorry you got caught?" she asked in a tone that was almost mocking me.
I looked at her again, into those bright green eyes that were twinkling with the pleasure that my uncomfortable reaction was giving her. She was probably in her early twenties which was almost half my age, so it couldn't be anything about me she was interested in.
"Both," I said initially before correcting myself. "No, actually I'm only sorry that I got caught," I told her. "I guess I'm also sorry I don't have a camera, come to think of it."
She smiled at that, which eased my mind considerably. I inhaled deeply at her scent which reminded me of some fragrance my ex-wife used to wear.
"An honest man is hard to find," she said, and suddenly brought the hand holding the book down and rubbed it across the crotch of my jeans quickly.
I let out a grunt that was more shock than anything else as the back of her hand slid over the bulge, and I looked around to see if anyone else had noticed.
"Not all that hard to find I guess" she said as she brought the book back up and resumed reading.
She was so close that I could smell her perfume, the name of which finally came back to me.
"Done looking already?" she murmured softly. "I got closer so you could get a better view."
Frankly, I was intimidated by this girl, who was so forward and blunt it was almost scary. Still it was tough not to look at her dangling from the strap like that with her now so close, so I resumed my examination of the girl with her apparent blessing. It had been many years since I had seen a girl who chose not to shave her armpits, as it seemed the disco era had removed most of the free spirits. Now this young woman appears out of nowhere, not only sporting the natural look, but flaunting it right in front of me. As my eyes returned to the delightful spray of hair swirling in the gentle recess, I chose to speak.
"I recognize your fragrance" I said, referring to the perfume that I thought she was wearing.
She smiled and nodded, her eyes never leaving the paperback, and I tried to count the freckles around her cute little nose.
"Secret," she said while turning the page deftly with the hand holding the book. "What would you say if I told you I was a mind reader?"
"Uh..." I said intelligently. "I guess I would be in trouble."
"Maybe... and maybe not," she added before leaning in front of me and pulling the cord to signal her stop. "Phone number."
"What?"
"You want to talk about it, give me your phone number."
"Uh, I don't have a pen..."
She gave me an annoyed look that suggested I should just tell her the number, so I did.
"Eight thirty tonight," she said over her shoulder as the bus came to a stop.
I stood there dumbfounded as the girl got off the bus and walked down the road while the bus pulled away. Whoever she was, the bottom half of her body was a little bigger than the top, as I watched her fleshy butt wiggle under the swirling skirt. Her calves were full as well, but very shapely.
That was certainly an interesting encounter, I thought to myself, knowing that she was never going to call or even remember my number. Just a girl who liked to bust balls, and I guessed I had it coming to me, staring at her like that.
2. 8:30.
I'd like to say that I wasn't watching the clock as the evening went on, but that wouldn't be exactly right. As it got closer to 8:30, I actually started getting nervous. If I thought I was nervous at 8:29, when the phone rang precisely at 8:30 I jumped half out of my skin. I decided to pick up the receiver on the third ring, and managed to croak out a weak hello.
"Is this the bus guy?"
