Strange and Beautiful

It was so difficult to even sit next to him. I haven't seen him for over a year and a half, but it still bothered me. Our frequent bus rides were more than transportation; they were an intimate experience that I will never forget.

The first time we met, it was on the 67, the bus that went from A to B, destinations don't matter. Waiting at the stop in the warm early September air with a book full of fresh college material was not what I wanted to do at that moment. I wanted to be on the bus, or be somewhere else. The idea of starting college, a whole new school frightened me. I still wasn't confident about my major, I didn't know anyone really because all of my friends were in different universities and we all split up. I remember that day very well. The cool breeze ran over my pale arms and over my bare neck to dance through my hair. That breeze brought a cool smell of fall approaching, as well as him.

He walked up the street and held his back pack on his right shoulder. I remember it was his right because he always pushes back his hair with his left hand and that's what he did as that playful breeze pulled at his dark brown locks. The man had a typical college boy look to him. Jeans, t-shirt, open hooded sweatshirt, backpack, and worn sneakers complete the set. He walked up next to me, stood and waited for the bus like I was.

The red, white and blue bus putted up the street and spewed chemicals in the air as it stopped, breaking with a piercing squeal. The gentleman that he was, he allowed me to get on first, saying in a delicate voice, "Ladies first." His appearance, his voice, everything about him was glorious and I couldn't stop the vibrations going through my body from his presence. The only seat left on the bus was next to a man who wore a suit, carried a stiff briefcase to match his spine. He didn't look like he wanted to take the bus but the way gas prices were these days, he'd take his chances saving his budget. He also didn't look pleased that someone sat next to him. The suit huffed out a breath at my body next to his and turned to look out the window. When I not-so-elegantly made a face to his profile, I saw the face of my gentleman smile. When his amused expression washed over his face, I smiled in return as he walked up to stand close to me on the crowded bus.

The suit cleared his throat in a non-subtle manner and excused himself to get out of the seat. He signaled the driver by pulling the rope and squeezing by, trying to touch as few people as possible. I mean, god only knows where they have all been! The seat was vacant and I scooted my body to the window, sending an open seat invitation in the direction of my gorgeous male admirer. And our knees brushed. With a smirk designed to charm the female species out of war and famine, trust and control, he turned to me to say hello.

Our conversation was nothing that people would call monumental, but I asked questions to keep him talking. As I pressed on, he told me all about him while I, in turn, answered my own questions. He went to school in the city, so did I. In fact, the same school only we were different majors. While I pursued a music performance major in guitar, he was studying computers with a minor in electrical. He figured everything would be run by computers more and more and in order for them to run, someone had to fix them. Brilliant. He was gorgeous and brilliant. I wanted to ask him more, I wanted to ask him his life's goal, his mother's name, his favorite childhood memory, song, food, pastime, anything. But my stop was coming up and too fast for my liking.

I told him my stop was near and to my twisted delight; I saw the disappointment on his face. But what should I do? Ask for his number? His name? I didn't even know his name. But I didn't, and said goodbye before walking off the high steps to the pavement. I blew it. So I walked home alone with my head hanging low.

The next day as I waited at the bus stop, I wondered if my mystery, as I was starting to refer to him as, had class today, if he would show up. He was on my mind all day and I was slightly off by the fact that I missed him. Besides his school and major, and a few other things I really didn't know much about him. Did he have a girlfriend? Was he gay? Was he a homicidal maniac pretending to be a college student to lure willing young women into his dungeon so he could torture and humiliate them? I don't know. All I know was that I wanted to see him again.

When I saw him walk up the street, I knew my wish was granted and tried not seem too pleased at his arrival. I don't want to seem too anxious. My mystery stood next me and said hello with his gorgeous magnetic smile as he asked how my day was. Fine, fine. It was fine. My day is so much better now that I was able to see him. When we walked onto the bus, this time there were only 3 people on the bus. We walked to the back and I sat down with my mystery next to me where his presence continued to mock me. His leg was touching mine again and the shock that ran up my body was enough to bring me back to life if I happen to stop breathing for a moment. When I said something funny, his laugh rippled through my ears and his hand rested on my thigh in an unconscious gesture that made me instantly want his hand to move closer and touch me.

He looked at me and saw my eyes, saw what was going on inside my mind. He smiled and without saying a word, without asking me or mentioning his plan, he brought his lips to mine and kissed me a sweet moment that I froze in time, taking a picture of and locking it away for a rainy day. He tasted so sweet and delectable, like a ripened fruit, waiting to be picked and devoured. When I parted my lips and invited him in, I could almost hear his body sigh in relief to my submission and he kissed me with the passion of a missed lover that had haunted memories of this embrace. I wanted his mouth on me, and his hands touching me. This is what I have been thinking of all day. Our kiss lasted so long that the hour bus ride was over and my stop was next. Breaking from the embrace, I kissed his mouth once more softly and said goodbye. It never occurred to me to ask him his name, his number, anything. I just walked off and waved goodbye to him. And counted the minutes until I got to see him again.

The next day he didn't show. It was a disappointing day and when I looked forward to seeing him all day I was smacked with defeat, it was a harsh downfall. The bus ride home was lonely and took longer that it usually does. Throughout the ride I imagined what would happen if my mystery was sitting next to me. He would kiss me again in that beautiful way he did yesterday. He would hold me close and his breath would hit my neck as he wrapped his arms around me, telling me what he wanted to do to me. How he wanted to take me home and take me to bed. He wanted to devour my body, my soul, my heart. He already had it and I didn't even know his name.

The next day I arrived at the bus stop early to find him waiting there, sitting on the curb like a lost orphan. He looked so sad and lonely and when I sat next to him, he looked up and smiled, and asked how my day went, just like the previous day. I said fine but told him how yesterday I missed him. He seemed to brighten up at that and he told me he doesn't have class on Wednesdays and he missed me too. The silence that grew between us was comfortable. There was so much I wanted to know about him but I didn't even care to ask. His hand took mine and we stayed like that, in a comfortable connection that people need years to achieve. We walked onto the empty bus once more and sat in the back. I've come to think of that as "our spot" because no one really sat in the back and it felt like we had free reign over the bus back there.

His fingertips reached out to graze my cheek and his lips curled in the cheshire smile that would always take me off-guard whenever he let it free from his cages. The look of hunger in his eyes would always remind me of how desired I felt in his presence and I'd love it. I'd soak it up and take it for granted because it only lasted the bus ride. His kiss was more urgent this time. It was forced and without words or soft urges. It was taken from my body quickly and used like an antidote on his body, curing this disease that I created. With his fingertips holding my face, he urged me closer, come closer, we aren't close enough. With my fingertips almost creating burns on his jacket, I pulled him towards me and just savored his powerful taste that kept me awake all night.

As innocent as the first kiss was, this one took a turn towards dangerous when his hand moved from my face, just realizing there was more to me than my kiss. As if opening the petals of a delicate flower, his hands unzipped my jacket and he dipped his warm hands inside to run them along my back. Like a kitten being stroked, my back followed his slow caress and arched, pressing my body into his, making that satisfying male groan escape his lips to know what I'm doing is driving him crazy. His lips stop their assault momentarily and his brow is resting on mine, his eyes burning with something deeper than desire, deeper than I would ever know.

Intently watching me, waiting for a move or a word or a protest, his hand moved from my back to my chest and cupped my breast in a challenge. He knew we could be seen at any minute and at the same time, he knew I wouldn't say no to his advance. I couldn't. I was a prisoner to this mystery and I fucking soaked in every second. His hands were warm and seared my flesh, one on my back, the other massaging the delicate cream skin of my chest. My eyes fluttered closed as a purr escaped my lips, warming his in invitation to drink.

A bell from the rope pulled on the bus brought me back to reality as I realized my stop was coming up. Why? Why must I be taken from this blissful scene and given another painful night tossing and turning alone in my bed? He sensed my defeat and smiled, zipping my coat and placing a delicate flutter of lips on my forehead that left like a butterfly landing. With a deep sigh he said, "Goodnight, I'll see you tomorrow." And with that, I left without asking the same questions I always forget to ask.

I was determined this time to ask him to talk about himself. It would be hard, but I wanted to know more about him. I wanted everything about him to be an open book. When I heard myself say that in my head, I felt a slight pang of disappointment. I was not quite sure why, but a part of me enjoyed the intrigue and the pure animosity of the man. He could be anybody. I can make him whomever I wanted and kiss a different man every trip. No, that wouldn't seem right. But a part of me liked that I had no idea who this man was. The brisk September air blew past and brought a rustle of leaves through the street in sunset colors, warm enough for a fire. I sat at the curb and rested my head on my hands watching the leaves dance in between the driving cars.

A hand holding a bouquet of fall leaves was presented in front of my troubled eyes, and the owner smiled down at me before sitting by my side. My mystery gave me the leaves that were wrapped in a small, bright red ribbon. "I thought about flowers," he said humbly, "but flowers look out of place this time of year. I picked these from my tree outside of my window. The same tree I dreamed into all afternoon yesterday as I thought of you." The childish gesture of this man brought cupid's arrow straight through my heart and I kissed his cheek, murmuring thank you in his ear.

This time when the bus came, he took my hand and led me to an isle seat, with chairs blocking all of our sides, but one window to my left. He sat in the seat joining mine and rested his arm casually over the back of mine. With a cautious gaze to his surroundings, he leaned close to me and whispered into my ear. Sweet phrases, deep desires, all the things I wanted to do to him, he mirrored back by his own wishes. His free hand touched my thigh and as I began turning my head for a kiss, a kiss I wishfully tasted on my lips all morning, he whispering into my ear, "Shh.. Don't move. Don't speak." The words almost sound like a threat, but was delivered with such warmth and controlled desire that it was a deep request. Those lips I've been wanting were teasing my earlobe, rubbing the gentle flesh all around while his tongue tasted the delicate skin of my neck. I wanted to moan out loud, jump into his lap and take, take, take everything. But I obeyed and sat as still as I could, as quiet as I could.

The hand resting on my thigh moved dangerously higher and higher up my leg until his palm covered the zipper of my jeans. He barely touched me, he teased and taunted until finally cupping me and holding my body close. I bit my bottom lip so hard I drew blood and pressed closer to his hand, wanting him to hold me more, hold me tighter. My own hand gripped his thigh that rested next to me and I held on, urging him to continue. His lips stopped on my skin and I looked into his eyes, wanting to kiss him to hold him, to do something. But he wouldn't let me. He smiled and watched me go slowly insane. With another conspirator's glance around the public bus, he met my eyes again as he slid his hand under the waist of my jeans. His hand was warm on my flesh, but was icy cool in comparison to the heat he created. He let out a small laugh of triumph as he felt how wet I was, how me made me so wet his fingers found me easily.

I moved my hips to guide him farther and to give him easier access to do anything he wanted. With his middle finger, he slid inside my body easily and watched me holdback a groan. He waited, his hand stopping and his face freezing before I met his stare once more. I knew what he wanted me to say, he wanted to me to tell him what I wanted. "Don't stop," I breathed out through trembling lips and a raw mouth. "Please, don't stop." With that, his hand moved and sent my body through a ride. His fingers were moving inside me, reaching deep and touching me places I never knew I wanted to be touched. His palm hit my sensitive skin and provoked me further, driving me and tossing me into a frenzy. I never wanted him to stop, I wanted his to always touch me and take me higher than I've ever been with someone. My fingers were digging into his leg and I felt the pressure building, tightening my stomach. I rested my forehead on his shoulder and closed my legs around his hand. I was breathing faster, my pants growing louder and everyone on the bus had to have known what we were doing. If they didn't it might have looked like I was deathly ill and he was enjoying it as much as I was.

I felt my climax slam through my body and I turned my face into his jacket to muffle my moan. My body trembled and shook as I grabbed him by the shirt front and kissed him through the orgasm he drove me to. When my body relaxed and my heart found a safe pace once more, he released me and mentioned it was my stop. I was delirious with passion and didn't think I could move, not to mention get up and walk the few blocks to my house. He got up and let me by, kissing my temple and saying, "Have a good weekend." before pulling the cord for me.

I walked down the steps and turned, seeing him smile at me before the doors closed and the bus moved on.

I couldn't wait to Monday. It was going to be a long weekend.