Opportunity knocks for those who wait. Sometimes you just don't want to wait. You get fed up with waiting. Those who don't wait get things done quicker. Too right!
That was the provocative statement in the mind of Jesse Roche as he waited very impatiently for the 97 bus on the upper level at Billings Bridge bus station, south of downtown Ottawa. He sat on one of two wooden benches in the bus shelter for northbound passengers, trying his best to keep his aggrieved mood to himself. He was peed off already as he walked here from his buddy's apartment that was twenty minutes walk away at Bank and Heron. The original plan between friends was for Jesse to stay at the apartment for the night after a local drinking spree, but an argument with his buddy's girlfriend over a blocked toilet lead to Jesse being shown the door earlier than planned.
So here he was, with tired and probably swollen feet, waiting at 2 AM early Monday morning for the 97 to take him to Westboro, to the condo where he lived with his flatmate, Charlie. There he would flop into bed for a torrid sleep; and plan what excuse he would concoct for his boss for being late to work later on.
That freaking bitch, he thought, as he looked through the glass of the bus shelter onto an empty Transitway. It wasn't that hard to fix a blocked toilet and you didn't have to stick your hand into any shit. She needed the crap knocked out of her!
The one little comfort he had as he counted down the minutes for the bus' arrival was the presence of the other person in the shelter. This was a young woman, in her late teens, he guessed. Goodness knows where she was coming from or going to, but she was dressed in a purple mini-dress, black Doctor Martin boots, and a brown suede jacket. She was pale white, slim bodied, with blonde hair split into two pigtails at the top. Her back was facing him as she also surveyed the quiet Transitway outside the shelter.
Jesse did not fancy the boots but the mini-dress was loose, and it ended so beautifully on her mid-thigh. That was oh so sexy! The dress had an embroidered circular print pattern from top to bottom. He ignored the not cool boots and concentrated on the legs. They were of a milky texture, as if he could take a sip if he could get closer.
The woman ignored him completely; only concerned apparently with when she would hear the familiar drone of the OC Transpo bus. It was as if he were nothing, not worth even inclining her head a little bit to see what was up. To see if perhaps he was a hot guy and this could be her lucky night.
Is she a hooker? Why she acting like that? Then Jesse shook that notion out of his head. No, no. What is a hooker doing here? They would all be plying their goodies downtown, not here.
Then Jesse went back to thinking about himself. "Shitty night," he said, and then realised he had spoken out loud. In the dead of the shelter, his voice bounced all around them like a ricochet shot. It broke the young woman out of her spell. She turned quickly, looked at Jesse for a nanosecond and then went back to the window.