I never looked forward to the night bus home from college. It was a long, boring bus ride, 5 hours to Dayton, and then another half hour taxi ride to my moms' house from the bus depot. There is nothing quite so ugly as the Dayton bus depot at 3 in the morning. The bus was often full. At best, I would get a window and an empty seat next to me. At worst, the thing that I dreaded, a drunk fat guy would sit down next to me and want to talk.
On this particular night, I found an empty row, took my seat, turned on my walkman, and opened my book. If luck was with me, the seat next to me would stay empty, and I would be able to sleep for most of the ride.
"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" It was a soft voice, a female voice, with a lazy southern drawl. The voice belonged to an Asian girl, about my own age. She was pretty, short and curvy. She had short black hair, a round face, and lovely bright hazel eyes. Her ears were pierced multiple times, and she sported a little silver septum ring. Her largish breasts were confined inside a man's white button down shirt, and she wore a black miniskirt.
"Please" I said, putting down my book, "Sit down." I was relieved that I wouldn't have to sit down next to a lonely middle-aged man with an unhappy marriage to tell me about. Plus, I thought she was cute as hell.
As the bus rolled out of the station, we talked a little. We were the same age. Her name was Mitsko, she was from Georgia, and she was taking a year off from school to work. She never told me, and I never asked, why she was taking the night bus to Dayton.
As the bus cruised along the interstate and its diesel engine droned on and on, as the Midwestern night settled down all around us, we stopped talking, and rode silently through the night. I felt sleepy, and it felt nice to be pressed against her warm body.
I don't know who started it, or how it started, but suddenly Mitsko and I were kissing. We kissed passionately, silently, exploring each other with tongue and lips and breath. I cupped her ample breast with my hand as I deeply kissed her, letting my tongue slip into her mouth, feeling her kiss me back with an intensity that matched my own.
I hadn't been touched in months, and I could feel the physical need in the hot wetness between my legs. We seemed to be all alone in the world.
I felt her fumbling with the fly of my jeans. The bus was entirely dark. The only light came was reflected back from the headlights, and the dim emergency lights along the center isle. I unbuttoned my jeans and, raising my butt, squirmed out of my panties, letting them fall around my ankles. I lay my jacket down on my lap to partially shield myself. I felt naked and exposed. Nobody could see me, really, but I was surrounded by strangers, almost all of them male. The sense of danger made it extra exciting.
Mitsko put her finger to her lips in a "Shush" gesture, and wiggled out of her own panties. I caught a flash of white silk as she stuffed them into her handbag. Then she guided my eager hand under her skirt, between her thighs.
I don't know how much time passed as we silently fingered each other to orgasm after orgasm. She was wet when my fingers found her sex, and she opened up to me like a flower. As I circled her hard little clit, she finger fucked me into ecstasy, sliding two fingers deep inside my vagina, and pressing her palm down into my mons in a way that drove me crazy. We kissed and kissed, silencing each others soft moans as we orgasmed. My pussy spasmed again and again. It seemed like I would never stop coming. Eventually, we were sated. I licked my sticky juices off her fingers as she sucked mine like a little cock. I pulled up and buttoned my jeans. She curled up and slept with her head in my lap, like a little girl. Before I too went to sleep, I wrote my phone number down on the back of my bus ticket receipt, and slipped it into her handbag.
When my eyes opened again, we were in Dayton, and the bus was unloading. The harsh glare of the fluorescents hurt my eyes. I had left a big wet spot on the seat. Mistko and I got off the bus and headed in separate directions. I hoped she might call that week, but she never did. I masturbated many times to that night, until it took on a dreamlike quality, and I was almost unsure whether it had really happened or not.
Fast forward seven years. I am living by myself in a studio apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, working as a freelancer, and balancing the knife edge between poverty and relative affluence. For the first time in my life, I'm not constantly broke, I can afford not to have a roommate, and I bought myself a nice computer and an ipod. On the other hand, a slow month could ruin me. I can't afford health insurance. It is a stressful lifestyle.
I am in the shower when my cell phone rings. Dripping wet, I get out, wrap a towel around myself, and check who is calling. I can't afford to miss out on work. It is a number that I don't recognize. That is not unusual. I answer the phone.
"Hello."
"Hello, is this Andrea?" It is a woman's voice, a soft voice with a southern drawl. I don't know who it belongs too, but I feel like I should recognize it.
