She tripped as she ran up the plain concrete school steps, the top one catching her toe—sending her almost stumbling to one knee. She paused a moment delicately balanced on spiky heels, knees pressed together and noticed a fleck of concrete rubble caught in the skin. She flushed, thinking where that fleck had come from. She caught here breath and stood smoothing her tight denim mini skirt only to find the squat dean of student affairs, Helen Reyes, leaning against the door arms folded across her ample bosom, tight smile creasing her doughy cheeks.
"Another traffic jam today, Ms. Lin?"
She looked at her watch—twenty minutes late! "Sorry, Helen. I took the bus today—god, it's so slow."
Reyes continued her stare, her smile fixed, her eyes cold. "This is the third day in a row, Grace."
Grace dropped her eyes. "I know. I'm so sorry- it's been a --a -- hectic week. Really sorry for this."
Reyes nodded, pulled the heavy door to the community college open, motioning for Grace to proceed through. As Grace passed, beside her, she murmured, "Please Grace, don't let us think you don't like your job here."
"Oh, no! I love my job, Helen," Grace lightly touched the administrator on her arm. "It won't happen again; I promise."
Reyes glanced at her painted fingernails, then back to her eyes. Her expression revealed contempt, yes, but something else, what? Claire snatched her hand back.
"I'm glad to hear that, Claire. Have a good day."
"You too, Helen. Thanks for understanding." As she walked away, feeling the semen trickle out of her sticky anus, her panties forgotten by the side of the road somewhere, she thought, 'I really do have a problem.'
Earlier this same morning, her husband had dropped her off at the bus stop. She'd decided to take the bus to work to prevent herself from any distractions on her way home.
as she boarded the bus, she thought of those distractions of finding herself cruising dangerous neighborhoods entering seedy lower-class bars ending up on bar tables getting fucked by roomfuls of black men... god, what was she thinking? She was a school counselor—an important job. She was a wife and mother! How'd it ever get this bad?
In her bag she carried her newly purchased book, "Sex Addiction: Ten steps to conquering your problem and gaining control over your life"
She felt victorious just buying the book. She'd taken her first step—she'd made her self-admission official; she had a problem. Didn't they say that was 90% of solving the problem was facing it? Something like that.
She took a seat towards the mid-point of the bus, sat and checked her makeup in her compact mirror.
At 43 years old, she still looked good- few people would ever guess her age correctly. She'd come from Taiwan a few years earlier with her American husband. She still had smooth skin, almond eyes, long mane of lustrous black hair, As usual, she wore her typical tight top, cleavage showing her small but firm breasts, short skirt revealing her top asset- long, curvy legs. Her heels were high, skinny and strappy. She snuck a peak around the other commuters were quiet and sleepy but she caught a few admiring glances. Dampness seeped into her little white panties; she fought an urge to tough herself.
Lost in thought, she hadn't noticed when the bus crossed into the poorer end of Passaic. She bit her lip as the bus stopped, letting a stream of black people board. Portly unattractive men and women shuffled on the bus. None held any interest, until the bus doors closed and the bus began to move. The driver stopped abruptly to let a final passenger on.
He was in his early twenties, light skin blondish dreadlocks pulled back in a thick ponytail. He looked liked a mix—black and something else. He looked pretentious—arty; then she noticed his body.
Medium height, slim, twenties but inside those jeans, she couldn't help noticing, he had a mound of meat that she couldn't believe.
She moaned softly, her pussy instantly soaked her rectum pulsing. "Oh god... not again."
She stared at him covertly. He stood behind the driver, hanging onto a strap. She clasped her knees together her panties soaked as she watched his buns; tight and fit.
He turned giving her a clear look at his package—huge! He caught her eye- smiled. She looked down then up at him again. She smiled, just a bit, in return.
The bus came to a stop and the young man abruptly released the strap and headed for the door. She watched him step off the bus and onto the sidewalk. The doors closed and the bus pulled away from the curb.
"Wait!" she called out, rushing to the front.
She stepped into the morning sunshine, squinted. Where? For a panicked moment, she thought she's lost him. Then down the sidewalk, she saw him pimp walking away, she ran as best she could barely noticed the black faces staring at her the garbage in the street the empty lots. She caught him grabbed his sleeve.
"What?" he demanded, turning towards her his face filled with violence.
She recoiled. "Sorry!"
