A Girl On The Bus Pt 02

Author's Note:

This is a continuation of an entry in the February 2020 750 Word Anthology.

I'm keeping within the spirit of the original challenge of writing flash fiction, but without the absolute constraint of 750 words. Nevertheless, this is short. If you're unwilling to engage with story-telling on this basis, please back-click now and find another tale.

Like the occasional encounters on a bus, these will be occasional vignettes - I might never see her again.

* * * *

Well that's bloody annoying, I thought, as I moved away from the bus stop, having just discovered a snap stop-work had been called by the drivers' union. Services would resume in an hour. I couldn't be bothered getting a taxi or uber, so I resigned myself to wait. At five o'clock, though, most of the city cafés were already shut.

I crossed the road to a small square surrounded by trees, with small patches of lawn and some sad flower beds in raised concrete surrounds, and found an empty bench. That's when I saw her, the smoking hot girl I saw on the bus in the mornings. The girl with the slightly crooked teeth who'd put her phone away and chatted to me, her thighs pressing against my arm as the bus swayed. She'd kept her balance with her hand on my shoulder as the bus made the long left-hand turn onto Hobart Terrace.

"Hey," I called to her, catching her attention. "The buses aren't running, not for an hour."

"What's not running? An hour? What do you mean, not running?"

"The buses. There's a stop-work. They're not running. The drivers have gone out. It's this rolling stoppages thing." I gestured for her to come sit beside me. "They'll be running again at six. I'm waiting till then."

"Waiting?"

"Yes, waiting."

"God, that's tedious. All I need." Her shoulders slumped. "No buses."

"Long day? Waiting doesn't help." I placed my hand on the bench beside me. "Here, join me. We can wait together. Here on this bench."

"Like on the bus in the mornings, then? But in the afternoon. On your bench?" She was recovering from the news of a delay, understanding what I was trying to say. She sat beside me, placing two shopping bags at her feet and a handbag in her lap. The pleated lines of her skirt, white and black stripes, swirled and fell with her movement. She rested hands with long fingers on the handbag, and was still. The skirt shimmered, made of some satiny material.

"It's not mine." I patted the timber seat. "It can be our bench, if you like."

"Our afternoon bench? That's nice. I'm Delilah, by the way. Delilah from the bus in the mornings."

She'd remembered too, her hip against my shoulder as the bus lurched and swayed.

"Adam," I replied. "Adam in the afternoon."

"That's a whole day done then, Adam." She said my name and took possession of it, making it hers to keep if she wanted it. "It's nice to meet you. I'll know what to call you now, if I see you in the mornings." She turned towards me and her gaze was steady, looking me straight in the eye.

I noticed again how careful she was with her make up, and found myself wondering how old she actually was. Not a girl as I'd first thought but a young woman, now that she sat closer to me. Maybe late twenties, very early thirties even, but blessed with very good genes.

She wasn't classically beautiful, her nose was just a little too big for that, but she was striking. A woman who could walk into a room and be noticed. She had a certain hauteur about her and a sway in her walk. Less sway at the end of a day when she was tired, perhaps, but still, her clothes moved beautifully on her. But of course, she moved beautifully and her clothes merely followed. How lovely she would look, her clothes falling to the floor.

"May I say, your skirt is beautiful, that shimmer when it turns." I went on, "That's why I first noticed you: your lovely clothes, the way you hold yourself."

"Lovely? Nobody's called my clothes lovely before."

I meant you.

"You're an attractive woman, Delilah. You make my mornings much better when I'm on the bus."

She took my compliment graciously, smiling right to her eyes. Some women only smile with their mouth and their eyes are cold, but Delilah gave me creases at the corners of her eyes, and her gaze held me steady. She touched her hand to mine, on my knee.

"Thank you, Adam. You're honest, what you say. That's unusual. Most men look but are silent. It can be unsettling, taking me with their eyes. You appreciate women, I think, and your look... it's... for me."

What could have been a stumble became a step, and we turned in towards each other and kept talking. Time passed quickly, too quickly, and soon it was six o'clock.

"Look, there are some buses. Shall we go?" I'd rather stay.

"I suppose we should." Delilah reached for her carrier bags on the ground.

"Please, let me." I gestured for the bags, to give my hands something to do, when what I wanted to do was to touch her.

"Of course. That's sweet." I saw her slightly crooked teeth as she smiled. "Thank you."

We made our way across the street and stood, side by side, for the bus. She climbed aboard first, then turned aside in the aisle. "You should sit by the window. I get off first."

"You do. But at least this time, you get a seat."

"I do. Next to my stranger from the mornings."

The bus lurched away, and she bumped against me. She reflexively placed her hand on my thigh to steady herself, and left it there somewhat longer than necessary, before clasping her hands around the handbag on her lap. Maybe she did those things. I'm not sure.

Coming up to her stop on the bus-way, she turned to me. "Thank you for waiting with me. That was nice, at the end of a long day."

"My pleasure," I replied, and it was. Her smile, oh goodness, those dark eyes as she appraised me.

"Adam," she said, as she stood and I handed her the two bags. "Our bench. Will you be there another afternoon, perhaps, and we can wait again? I'd like that."

"I'd like that too, Delilah," and we exchanged our names like coins.

"Till then," she said, and moved down the aisle, the black and white skirt clinging to her legs, before being set free to shimmer and turn as she stepped off the bus. Adjusting her bag on her shoulder, she turned towards me, raising her hand in a wave.

She smiled, and blew me a kiss as the bus moved away.

© electricblue66 2020