Bonnie Lou

Remembering those days.

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Before I moved to my country estate, I lived in an older restored area of Columbus known as Victorian Village. Victorian Village was a little beyond walking distance from downtown, but I could walk it, if I missed the last bus. These days I drive the lengthy commute to the office, but in those days, I rode the bus. Yes, the public transit system. There were, and I assume still are, nice things said about the Neil Avenue bus that runs through Victorian Village, the number 7 transit, the bus that brings downtown workers from the bottom of the Ohio State University campus into the heart of the city. Neil Avenue itself is a tree lined drive with huge Victorian homes, most of which have been painstakingly restored to their earlier elegance. And those who rode the bus, those same faces that I saw every work day, we became a social crowd, guys and gals that I became friends with and still greet today.

There were regulars who rode the bus, certain attractive women, some of whom I got close with, and some whom I didn't. Guys and gals, other lawyers, accountants, government workers, mostly what is called the young professional crowd. These people all rode the bus, boarding at different intervals depending on what time they were due at work. Rarely was the bus more than half full. After seeing someone every morning, simple hellos led to conversation and to friendship. The entire ride downtown only took ten minutes, and then I was at the door of my office. And friendships also were made with the bus drivers, the same driver was there every day too. One driver was John Paul, who drove the return home 5 o'clock route. On good days he would announce each stop, sometimes singing out the street names.

One crisp spring morning, at the Goodale Avenue stop, a perky blond boarded. She was about 5'4. She had on tight jeans, sandals, and a black tee shirt. Immediately she caught my attebtion, I hadn't seen her before. Her braless boobs bounced as she stepped up into the bus. Her hair was slicked back and wet, she was obviously only a few minutes out of the shower. Under one arm was a huge artist's carrying case, and I guessed that she was a student at the prestigious Columbus College of Art and Design. This woman had the face, the chest and the look, of Bo Derek. High cheekbones, square jaw, and firm high boobs that had never nursed a child. Her top was mated to a tiny waste which then curved out to a small fantastic ass. And no makeup, no need for it, nothing to hide. We each got off the bus at the Broad and High intersection in the center of town, which was where my office was located.

As we walked toward the corner stoplight, I spoke first.

"Hi. So you go to CCAD?" I asked, as the rising sun shone directly on her face, there at the northwest corner of Broad and High.

"Well, OK, smart guy, do you hit on everyone this early?"

"I….uh…well…"

"Why don't you go fuck yourself, and leave me alone!"

With that verbal slap, I walked away. Nothing lost there, I thought, just trying to be friendly. Apparently she didn't want any friends like me.

But the next day I saw her again. She was at the bus stop immediately below my office, waiting to board the return ride up Neil Avenue, around 5:00 p.m., and wearing the same clothes as the day before. That line ran every 20 minutes, and I was ready to go home. I went on the bus first, she followed, and to my surprise she sat down and shared the bench seat with me.

"You're the guy from yesterday," she said.

"Yeah, I am. My name's Elliot. How are you?"

"Well I'm fine, if you care. I'm Bonnie. Bonnie Lou Hutchinson. And stop trying to cover up your wedding ring, I can see that you're married."

Twice she'd slammed me, and I didn't even know her.

"Are you married?" I asked.

"No, not to you at least. But I am 28, I know yesterday from tomorrow."

Then another woman came on board, and she sat directly across from us. She had brown hair, and wore a tight white blouse and tan slacks. On anybody's scale, she was attractive. She said hello to Bonnie, and when they recognized each other, they embraced. Bonnie stood up, the other woman stood up, and they shared a passionate kiss in the aisle of the bus, an open mouth tongue twisting passionate kiss. Next they exchanged whispers. The only thing I overheard was "I'll call you", which came from Bonnie's lips.

Sitting back down next to me, Bonnie spoke. "I haven't seen her in years. We used to dance together at King Tut's on Morse Road. She's the first woman I ever kissed, I mean romantically kissed. And the first woman I made love to. I hope we get together again."

At that moment, I was confused. I tried to absorb the different sides of this stranger, and I wondered if I wanted her in my life. She was open about things such as her bisexualality, as open as she was about her refusal to wear makeup. We sat the next few minutes in silence, and I wondered what went on in her head.

"Why don't you come to my house?" she said as she leaned against me on the bus seat. "It's right up the street, and my roommate won't mind."

It wasn't late, late for me meant after 7:00, so I went home with her. She rented an old brick townhouse apartment, a unit she shared with another woman. Once inside, there was no roommate. The only one greeting us was Bonnie's dog, who responded to the name Black Dog. I wondered how she would call for him, should he ever be lost. We bumped around a bit, making small talk. The place showed every aspect of a student dwelling - makeshift bookshelves, old worn furniture, used pots and pans. But there was no artwork. Other CCAD students, whom I visited, their apartments always were full of their own works, their projects, their successes and their failures. Bonnie had none of that.

We stood in the kitchen and talked, as she fed a sliced apple to her dog. I worried that she would poison him, but he seemed really hungry. In fact he looked starved.

"I was dating this guy," she said as she stood at the kitchen sink, "who took me home to meet his parents. He was pretty much a jerk. We dated for a while."

I wondered why she was volunteering information about other men.

"If he was a jerk," I said, "then why did you continue to date him?"

"Sex. Tits and ass. That's all he wanted from me. But he drove a BMW and would buy me dinner. And I get pretty hungry. Anyway, when I met his parents, his father was really cool. He was a dentist. His father kept coming on to me. Then I dumped the boyfriend. After I did, his father called me up. I went out with him, he took me to a nice restaurant, and I ended up fucking his father's brains out."

"Was this dentist married?"

"Sure, but I like married men. They are always a safe bet."

"A safe bet?" I asked.

"They don't demand commitment, and they go home at night. They always look their best, and they always try to impress. It's easy."

I watched as Black Dog ate the seeds of the apple.

"This may sound odd, but I haven't had a bath in a couple of days," she said. "Do you mind if I take a shower?"

"Of course not. I'll run over to the Big Bear and buy us some wine. Leave the door open so that I can get in when I come back."

The Big Bear grocery store was only a half a block away, and in ten minutes I was back with the wine. The door was open and I let myself in, and I sat the wine bottle on the table. Glancing up the stairs, I saw steam flowing from the bathroom. I walked up the steps and the bathroom door was open. Then I heard the clang of old plumbing as the water faucets were shut off.

"Bonnie," I said loudly, "it's me. I'm back." I loitered around hoping to catch a flash of Bonnie nude.

"Can you hand me a towel? There's a clean one on the rack."

As I reached for the towel, Bonnie slid open the glass shower door. She slowly stepped out from the shower and stood nude on the bath mat near the mirror. She took the towel from my hand but made no attempt to cover herself.

"You can watch me, I don't mind," is all that she said. I stared at her, standing completely naked in front of me. I can't say that I was shocked, but I was certainly surprised.

Bonnie had a fantastic figure - blond hair, blue eyes, beautiful face, great legs, tits and ass. But what surprised me was that she did not shave her legs, and her legs were extremely hairy. Hairy like she hadn't shaved in at least a year, maybe two.

"Haven't seen a natural woman?" she said, turning round and flashing her nude body for me. She continued to stand there, nude, posing, lightly drying herself, and then she combed her hair in the steamed mirror. I stayed fixed in the bathroom doorway watching this beauty. I watched for a few minutes. What a rack, I thought to myself. Her nipples were hard and protruding, her stomach flat, and her butt was round and firm. Her breasts were a perfect match, 36C, and from head to tow she glistened from the warm bath water. But I had never seen such contrast, such a beautiful woman with such hairy legs.

"Pour me a glass of wine, and bring the bottle to my bedroom."

Let's face it, I thought to myself, this woman snaps her fingers, and gives me commands. She makes out with another woman in front of me, she doesn't shave her legs, and she doesn't seem to like men. Including me. Yet if she says "jump," I'll say "how high?" Bonnie was complex, different, and I was intrigued by the way she used herself. This was my first sexual encounter with a lesbian, a lesbian whom I feared might castrate me, mentally and psychologically, given the opportunity.

A few minutes later we were in her bedroom. I had gone down the stairs, opened the wine, and brought it with two glasses back upstairs, all as she had requested. Her bedroom was small, the queen sized bed dominated the room. Dirty clothes were in every corner, old clothes like the sort you'd find in a thrift shop. Bonnie was nude on the bed, and I handed her a glass of wine like I was her servant. Taking a sip from her wine glass, she spread her legs and showed off for me. She lifted her knees up and continued sipping the wine. Her hairy legs contrasted with her knockout figure, but still, I couldn't keep my eyes off of her.

"Take off your clothes," she said to me, rather matter of fact like.

Ok, I thought. Not shy, I stepped out of my shoes, and then my suit, and I neatly folded it and hung my suit over a chair. Moving closer to Bonnie, I took my tee shirt off, and then my boxers, making sure that my cock was in front of her face. She showed no interest in sucking it, although she stared at my penis with an inquisitive stare. Climbing over her, I got on Bonnie's bed and I lay nude next to her.

I tried to kiss her on the mouth, she laughed at me. I felt her boobs, she just lay there, bored with my advances. Her eyes remained opened and she had a passionless stare on her face. I slid myself down to her vagina. She had the odor of lavender, and opened her legs for me. My tongue danced around her clitoris. I nibbled on her as I slipped a finger into her vagina, then followed my finger with my hard tongue. Again, she laughed at me.

"Men don't know how to do that. Some think they do, and you probably think that you're good at it, but you're nothing compared with the grace of a woman."

So I stopped "trying" to please Bonnie. Hell, I didn't know what to do. I sat up in her bed and sipped my glass of wine. This was going nowhere, I thought. After a few moments, she spoke.

"Aren't you going to fuck me?"

She was back to her commands. Maybe there are things which a man can do, I thought, things which a woman can't. I moved on top of her and she opened her legs wide for me.

"Wait" she said. "If you want to fuck me, you'll have to take that off."

"Take what off?"

"Your wedding band."

Too late, I said to myself, I was already between her open legs. She was under me, I was on top. Her vagina was wet and ready, I'd seen to that, and I slipped my hard cock in. All the way in, and I pumped her a few times. But as soon as I began to fuck her, she was back at me. As I ground my cock in her, she started throwing a fit.

"Stop!"

"Get the ring off, or get your dick out of me!" she screamed.

So I got off of her. How good a fuck could she be, anyway? She'd ridiculed every move I'd made. There was simply no point in my carrying it any further. I got out of her bed, and I stood by her nightstand nude, with her juices glistening my cock. Sure, I hadn't deposited any semen in her, but I had a bit of a fuck with her. I poured myself a full glass of wine while facing her. I drank it, and then I poured myself the rest of the bottle. With that last glass of wine, I took my time and I studied Bonnie's nakedness as she lay on her bed. She was so unusual.

"Elliot, I don't want to be alone," she said. "Won't you get back in bed with me?"

"You don't want that, and you don't want me. You're all take, and no give."

I walked to the bathroom and I found a washcloth, wetted it with warm water, and washed my genitals, cleaning Bonnie's scent from me as best I could. Then I went back into Bonnie's room. She was still on the bed, still nude, waiting. I said nothing as I slowly dressed. Within a few minutes, I was out her door and walking home. My guess was that I would not see Bonnie again.

But my guess was wrong. The next day she called my office. And then she dropped by my office. She started a pattern of visiting me at work, after her classes were through. For a while, she came by everyday, and we'd catch a beer or some food. But some of those days she looked really bad, she'd say that she'd been up all night, working on a project, she'd say that she hadn't slept or eaten in days. And she gave me just enough sex, just enough, to keep me interested. When she looked really bad, I wasn't that interested, but other times she was a sweet piece of ass. Fucking her in my office somehow justified my regularly buying her something to eat at the corner restaurant.

One day she called. She was planning a trip to Florida with her girlfriend. Bonnie wanted a new bathing suit to wear in Florida, and she asked me to go shopping with her. Next thing I knew, we were together in the Lazarus department store, downtown. Bonnie was looking at the many different bathing suits, and she was mixed up about sizes and prices.

"Come with me to the dressing room," she said. "I want to try these on and see what fits."

She grabbed several suits under her arm, some bikinis and a backless one piece. The dressing room area, there in the bathing suit section, was not secluded at all. It was near an escalator. There was plenty of mall traffic, people walking back and forth. Bonnie could change behind a closed door, but it was the kind of door that had a visible view at the top and at the bottom, the kind of door that you could see her drop her clothes and pull the bathing suits on. I sat on a chair outside the door and watched as her jeans, her top and then her panties hit the floor next to her high heel slip-ons. Bonnie would need to step out to show me how each suit looked on her, and when she stepped out, she would be visible to those riding on the escalator.

She spoke to me as she changed into the first suit. I rose from my seat outside the booth, and I walked over and looked into the changing cubicle. As I leaned my head over the top, Bonnie was nude, nude and talking loudly. She was holding a very narrow black one piece that had little fabric to cover the bottom front.

"Bonnie," I said, "you can't try that on without underwear. You need to wear panties under it."

"Bullshit. Why do men think that women are inherently dirty?"

Myself, I don't think that women are anything like that, so I shut up. Bonnie then slipped on the black suit and walked out of the cubicle. The suit had a thong ass, a very high waist, and was quite revealing. Bonnie's beautiful tits were bulging out of the thin straps that made up the top of the one piece. She paced before the mirrors, back and forth, as I watched. Her overgrown pubic hair was only partially covered by the thin black crotch piece, and her hairy legs jumped out at me. The contrast was amazing. Bonnie had a fantastic body. Bonnie, with no makeup and hairy legs, did everything she could do to dilute her natural good looks, everything to turn men away from being attracted to her.

Or was it me? Some men wear beards, I don't. But I suppose there are women who are attracted to men with beards. Should I necessarily be turned off by a woman with hairy legs? If a woman has a great body, why not give her credit for being a little different.

Next Bonnie went back in the cubicle. She didn't bother to latch the door, and it opened enough for me to see in. She pulled the black suit off, and she picked up a skimpy green two piece, with an adjustable back on the bottom. This suit allowed her to narrow, or widen, the amount of fabric that covered her butt. The top fabric also could be widened or narrowed by sliding the fabric either way along a string. The crotch portion was also only about two inches wide. I watched Bonnie through the door as she put this green suit on and as she narrowed the fabric adjustments in the mirror. She fixed the top so that only her nipples were covered, and she tied the top strap loose so that her breasts could bounce and sway. Then she brought in the butt fabric to that of a thin thong. Slipping her high heels on, she gave herself a last nod of approval in the mirror.

Maybe the word spread among the Lazarus customers and associates about the tits and ass show she was giving. By the time Bonnie stepped out of the cubicle, a half dozen guys were milling around, watching this near nude beauty with her hairy legs. Bonnie wasn't shy, she put on quite a show for the group that had gathered. The two piece suit left her 99% naked. The loose top would flap and expose her nipples, when she bent a certain way, and when she bent another way her ass was bare. Mounds of pussy hair protruded from her crotch. She modeled this suit for more than five minutes. Scores of people saw her from the crowded escalator. When she stepped back in the cubicle, she left the door cracked an inch or so. She stripped off the suit. I saw her nude reflection in the mirror, and her eyes saw me watching her. It was fun, but we ended up leaving without a new bathing suit.

A week later Bonnie called me at work. "Will you be on the 5 o'clock bus?" she said. I told her that I would, and she said fine. I boarded, but she wasn't on the bus. Later, as we rode along Goodale Park, I noticed her standing at the bus stop near her apartment. Our driver, John Paul, stopped the bus to let her on.

That afternoon, Bonnie was different. Her hair was arranged, and she had makeup on. She wore tight jeans, no bra, and a revealing white blouse that was transparent enough to show her pink nipples. John Paul let her on without paying. When she cleaned up, Bonnie was as attractive as any woman in the city of Columbus. Once on board, Bonnie came back to my seat, in the back of the bus near the rear wheels. The bus was nearly empty. Bonnie and I started kissing and groping each other there on the bench seat of the bus. I unbuttoned her blouse and felt her boobs as the few remaining passengers tried to ignore us. When the last other rider got off, the bus was empty but for Bonnie, myself, and our driver John Paul.

John Paul was a comedian and a great guy, a bus driver who was well known for his magic tricks that he put on during snow snarled traffic jams. He turned to us and said, "How bout if I drive around the block and you two can take a ride together?" And he proceeded to do just that. He changed the front bus sign from Neil Avenue to Garage so that he could deviate from his route. At the same time, I was tugging Bonnie's jeans down. I got the right leg of her jeans off, with her panties too, and I pulled her foot out leaving her jeans and panties on her left leg below her knee. On those buses, there is a sideways facing bench seat that sits behind a regular bench seat. The regular bench seat had a metal railing on top of it. I positioned Bonnie on the sideways bench, and she held the railing of the bench in front of her. Even though I had her jeans and panties out of the way, she still had her blouse on, and she wasn't visibly naked to anyone outside. Our driver John Paul probably knew what we were doing and probably caught a glimpse of Bonnie through the passenger mirrors, with her jeans and panties down. I climbed behind her on the bench, took my cock out, and proceeded to fuck her doggie style on the bus. It was a thrill, a thrill to do it on the bus, and to feel the motion of the wheels rolling beneath us while we fucked, but we stopped after five minutes. It was too risky and we didn't want to put John Paul in trouble. Bonnie put her jeans back on and we walked to the front of the bus. We thanked John Paul for the ride. He then drove the bus down the side street where Bonnie lived, and we let her off at her front door. John Paul then drove me the rest of the way home.