Take a Picture

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It may last longer, but can't compete with the real thing.
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A crowded city bus in the heat of Summer 1993 might not be a place to find love, but this day it was a place to fulfill other fantasies....

****

1. Summer in the city.

There's nothing quite like the oppressive heat of a hot July day in urban America. When you're stuck standing up on a crowded bus whose air conditioning was either not working or not up to the task, well... it doesn't get any better than that.

That's where I found myself on that sweltering day, hanging on to the overhead strap like a chimp while trying to stay upright despite the best efforts of the driver to send everybody flying with his abrupt stops and manic lane changes.

Sweat rolled off me as I looked out the window and tried to figure out how much longer I would have to endure this agony. The bus stopped at a traffic light, and through the window I saw the inviting signs of a tavern shining at me like a beacon.

Sam Adams, it cried out. C'mon in and throw one or two down and catch the next bus! Rolling Rock! Frosty cold and waiting inside. Why stand there in that torture chamber and get jostled by strangers even more unkempt and disgusting than you are?

The bus started again, which eliminated any decision making on my part. People squirmed by to get off the bus at their stops, and their damp seats were eagerly snapped up by others. Me, I wanted to stand up, because at least there was a little breeze passing through up there, the result of more than a few commuters opening the windows to let some moving hot air in to circulate.

At one stop, the crowd thinned out a bit, and it was then that I saw her. An attractive redhead hanging onto the pole while reading a paperback copy of Stephen King's Gerald's Game. She looked so cool, calm and collected amidst the human waste around her that it was almost spooky.

Her curly red locks framed an incredibly cute face with a smattering of freckles around her nose, with her soft green eyes firmly fixed upon her reading. A beautiful Irish lass if ever there was one. As people moved around on the bus I caught little glimpses of the rest of her, and as my curiousity grew, I shifted my place in the aisle.

It was then that I saw it. As my eyes wandered down from the slender fingers of her right hand that gripped the support rail above her and down her pale and freckled forearm, I viewed the most surprising sight. Nestled in the hollow of her underarm, a spray of hair swayed lightly in the breeze. Bright orange in color, the slight wisp of hair caught my eye immediately, being such an uncommon sight in the 1990's.

I felt my cock strain inside of my tight jeans, uncomfortably reminding me of their ill fitting nature, as I stared at the young woman with what must have been an appalling lack of tact. I subtly spun around the pole so that I was almost right next to her.

At the point, I was trying to stare at her without appearing to. I thought I was doing a good job of it too. Her eyes would occasionally come up from her book, and at those times I would look up over her shoulder at the advertisements that were plastered along the inside perimeter of the bus. I was so slick, or so I thought.

"Take a picture," she said suddenly, breaking me out of my trance.

"Take a picture, it lasts longer," she spoke just loud enough for me to hear.

She looked at me with a glare of sorts, but not the caustic stare I would have associated with her words. Her message was not delivered with any degree of anger but more like her telling me that she had caught me. That all occurred to me long after I was off the bus. While this was actually going on, I was embarrassed. Very much so, and I'm sure the crimson glow my face beamed with gave that away in case there was any doubt.

"Uh... sorry," I mumbled into my shirt as I shifted my gaze back out the window.

"Sorry you were staring or sorry you got caught?" she asked in a tone that was almost mocking me.

I looked at her again, into those bright green eyes that were twinkling with the pleasure that my uncomfortable reaction was giving her. She was probably in her early twenties which was almost half my age, so it couldn't be anything about me she was interested in.

"Both," I said initially before correcting myself. "No, actually I'm only sorry that I got caught," I told her. "I guess I'm also sorry I don't have a camera, come to think of it."

She smiled at that, which eased my mind considerably. I inhaled deeply at her scent which reminded me of some fragrance my ex-wife used to wear.

"An honest man is hard to find," she said, and suddenly brought the hand holding the book down and rubbed it across the crotch of my jeans quickly.

I let out a grunt that was more shock than anything else as the back of her hand slid over the bulge, and I looked around to see if anyone else had noticed.

"Not all that hard to find I guess" she said as she brought the book back up and resumed reading.

She was so close that I could smell her perfume, the name of which finally came back to me.

"Done looking already?" she murmured softly. "I got closer so you could get a better view."

Frankly, I was intimidated by this girl, who was so forward and blunt it was almost scary. Still it was tough not to look at her dangling from the strap like that with her now so close, so I resumed my examination of the girl with her apparent blessing. It had been many years since I had seen a girl who chose not to shave her armpits, as it seemed the disco era had removed most of the free spirits. Now this young woman appears out of nowhere, not only sporting the natural look, but flaunting it right in front of me. As my eyes returned to the delightful spray of hair swirling in the gentle recess, I chose to speak.

"I recognize your fragrance" I said, referring to the perfume that I thought she was wearing.

She smiled and nodded, her eyes never leaving the paperback, and I tried to count the freckles around her cute little nose.

"Secret," she said while turning the page deftly with the hand holding the book. "What would you say if I told you I was a mind reader?"

"Uh..." I said intelligently. "I guess I would be in trouble."

"Maybe... and maybe not," she added before leaning in front of me and pulling the cord to signal her stop. "Phone number."

"What?"

"You want to talk about it, give me your phone number."

"Uh, I don't have a pen..."

She gave me an annoyed look that suggested I should just tell her the number, so I did.

"Eight thirty tonight," she said over her shoulder as the bus came to a stop.

I stood there dumbfounded as the girl got off the bus and walked down the road while the bus pulled away. Whoever she was, the bottom half of her body was a little bigger than the top, as I watched her fleshy butt wiggle under the swirling skirt. Her calves were full as well, but very shapely.

That was certainly an interesting encounter, I thought to myself, knowing that she was never going to call or even remember my number. Just a girl who liked to bust balls, and I guessed I had it coming to me, staring at her like that.

2. 8:30.

I'd like to say that I wasn't watching the clock as the evening went on, but that wouldn't be exactly right. As it got closer to 8:30, I actually started getting nervous. If I thought I was nervous at 8:29, when the phone rang precisely at 8:30 I jumped half out of my skin. I decided to pick up the receiver on the third ring, and managed to croak out a weak hello.

"Is this the bus guy?"

"Uh... yes, I guess it is," I said weakly.

"You sound surprised," she said.

"Well, yeah. I guess I am," I countered.

"Your voice sounds weird. Afraid to talk too loud? Don't want the wife to hear?" she said smartly.

"I'm not married, I'm divorced," I informed her.

"Ain't they all?" she retorted. "Well Bob, you got my interest this afternoon, now what are you going to do with me?"

"Ummm... I don't really know. My name's not Bob, if you ..."

"I really don't want to know your name," she snapped, "because there isn't going to be any kind of courting going on here. You look like a Bob to me, so that's what I'm going to call you."

Bob? My name was going to be Bob. Well, now that we had settled on my name change I thought it would be a good idea to ask my new lady friend her name.

"Pick a name, I don't care what you call me," she said. "See if I like it or not."

"I have to give you a name?" I asked in confusion. "How about... Melissa? Or Kelly?"

"Why those?" she asked.

"Well, I knew a girl called Melissa back in college who didn't shave her underarms," I recalled. "Kelly, I guess because of your eyes."

"I didn't think you even noticed I had eyes," she cracked with a trace of a giggle.

"Oh, I noticed all right," I assured her. "I was watching them because I didn't want you to catch me staring at you."

"You need a little work on that Bob," she chortled. "Besides, you were almost drooling and that gave it away."

"I'm sorry about that Kelly," I offered, trying out her name for the first time. "You're a very unique looking lady."

"You like the armpit hair, huh Bob?" Kelly snickered. "Got a thing for hairy chicks?"

"You aren't all that hairy," I told her, the memory of that wisp of bright orange fur still fresh in my mind."

"You should see my pussy then, Bob" Kelly said. "I've got a really hairy pussy... does that scare you? A girl with a jungle between her legs these days when everybody's waxing it down to a little strip of fuzz?"

"I don't scare that easily Kelly, although that pubic Mohawk look comes close," I admitted. "I've haven't seen one yet that was too hairy for me."

"I liked Kelly better, Bob" she said. "You made the right choice on that one, but you called me a lady a minute ago. I'm sure as hell no lady. You might find that out in the future."

"Really?" I asked. "Just what are we doing here talking like this anyway?"

"Feeling you out," Kelly said. "Auditioning you."

"Auditioning for what?"

"Trying to figure out if I want to fuck your brains out or not," Kelly said matter-of-factly. "You turned me on when you were staring at me, and I like older dudes, so I thought maybe we could have some fun."

"Do you meet men often like this?" I asked with a shaky laugh that betrayed my nervousness.

"It depends," Kelly said. "Let's see, how old are you Bob? Thirty five?"

"Thank you Kelly" I replied. "I just turned forty a couple of months ago. How about you?"

"Forty! You don't look half bad for forty" Kelly said. "Me, I'm twenty. When's the last time you fucked a twenty year old, Bob?"

"Ummm... I think it's been a few years" I admitted. "I know for a fact I've never been with anybody half my age."

"Neither have I" Kelly said with a chuckle. "So, what are you doing right now, Bobby baby?"

"Bobby baby?" I asked. "Bob was just starting to feel comfortable. Doing? Nothing, just talking to you."

"You start playing with yourself yet Bob?" Kelly said. "Got your cock in hand... pumping away?"

"No," I said honestly. "Should I be?"

"Up to you babe," Kelly offered. "Makes no difference to me. Tell me about your cock Bob, you got a big one? I couldn't tell much when I rubbed up against it, except that it can get hard."

"Big?" I said sheepishly. "No, it's not big. Just the standard six inch variety, and that's on a good day, although I guess it's kinda thick."

"Thick is good," Kelly appraised. "Are you cut?"

"Cut?"

"Circumsized, Bob" Kelly schooled me. "Your penis."

"Yes"

"Good, I hate the ones I have to skin back" Kelly announced. "Got any piercings? Tattoos?"

"No, I'm kinda boring" I admitted.

"Not doing much of a sales job on yourself, Bob" Kelly snapped.

"Well, why the hell should I lie to you?" I snapped back. "Give you all kinds of bullshit just to get you in the sack?"

"Oooooh... now that's more like it" Kelly cooed. "Little fire there Bob, I like that. I'm not looking for some candy-ass goody two-shoes that's gonna bring me a handful of posies and tell me he loves me."

"No chance of that" I told her, and since I had just been on the verge of hanging up that was sure the truth.

"You free this weekend?" Kelly asked, and I pretended to look through an imaginary calendar before saying that I had no plans.

"Okay, this is the deal" Kelly announced. "If you're interested, we meet at a motel just out of town. You come alone... no friends, no wives, no cameras or any shit like that."

"Then what?"

"Anything you want" Kelly said. "Anything besides pain. You like it rough, Bob? I can take it... anything you can give out and then some. Ever want to get a little rough with a girl and pretend to have her do nasty shit? I'm the best actress you'll ever fuck. Think of it, Bob. How many times in your life have you been with a girl, and after it was all over you wished you had done one thing or another? Your wife, Bob, or your ex-wife. How many things did you wish you had done, but you didn't have the balls to ask for... or do? Afraid what she might think of you... or embarrassed to admit what you liked? Right, Bob?"

"I guess," I said warily.

"Then I'm your dream girl" Kelly said. "The only word that I don't use is no. There's nothing you can think of that I won't do. You name it and I'm game. You can't shock me. Anything you do, or wanted to do, I'm all yours. No laughing at you, no judgements and no having to face me the next day or ever again."

"What's the catch?" I asked nervously.

"No catch, except of course I'll be doing whatever I want to you as well," Kelly said. "We use each other however we want, and if one of us doesn't like it at any time, we leave. That's it. No commitments or relationships or anything like that. It's one night and that's the end. We'll never see each other again after that."

"Wham bam?" I offered weakly.

"You got it!" Kelly said. "If you want it, that is."

"What do you get out of this?" I asked.

"Great sex, I hope" Kelly said. "It turns me on, just like you turned me on when you were staring at me on the bus. I just tried to imagine the stuff that was going through your head."

"And that's the whole deal... no games or jokes?" I asked.

"If you want to you can chip in for the room" Kelly suggested. "Other than that, here's what you do. You know where the Lorna Doone Motel is out on Route 5?"

"Yes" I said, recalling seeing the decaying roadside motel outside of town in passing.

"Show up around 4 or so Saturday afternoon" kelly told me. "There's a little cocktail lounge around the side of the motel office. I'll be there waiting for you. No bunches of flowers Bob, just you and that hard-on, and maybe some beer. Okay? Tell me now if you're game, because I don't want to get stood up."

"Okay, I'll be there around 4," I said nervously.

"Geez Bob, you make it sound like you're going to a funeral. Lighten up man. Nobody's died from fucking since Nelson Rockefeller. Don't show up acting all uptight like that. Even if it's not your nature, I want you wild and uninhibited, just like I'll be."

I hung up after this most bizarre phone call still not believing my ears and not totally sure whether I would show up there. Still and all, I resisted the urge to lose the erection I had gotten as a result of the phone call the easy way. I thought that I might be needing all my energy this Saturday night.

3. Saturday night at the Lorna Doone Lounge

It was a hot Saturday afternoon with the temperatures hovering in the low nineties, and the sun was dazzlingly bright as I drove down Route 5 that Saturday afternoon. I had debated all morning and into the early afternoon on going through with this or not before finally caving in.

This was not my style, this casual sex thing that I might be getting into here. I was more of the long courtship kind of guy, and hadn't done anything of this nature since I was in college. Why was I going out to a motel like this?

Well, it had been a long dry period for me in the affection department. After my divorce I had found it very difficult to get involved with dating again. So, while I was certainly having as much sex as I could handle, the fact was that there was nobody else in the room with me while I was doing it. Wanking off to porn movies gets old fast, and this was certainly not going to be another boring Saturday night, if it actually happened.

I had put a lot of thought into my wardrobe before finally deciding on a light blue tank top and white shorts. I had managed to get into a decent enough condition over the last year or two and didn't look all that bad dressed like this. I still had my hair and teeth and a few brain cells. What more could a woman ask for? I guessed I would soon find out, I thought to myself, as I drove out Route 5 armed only with a couple of six packs of Rolling Rock.

The drive took a bit longer than I remembered, and when I finally got there I drove right past it, so nondescript and bland it was. I doubled back and slowly drove past again, surveying the scene. What a grand dump it was, with two cars in the lot, and a neon vacancies sign. I looked for signs of danger in this real life Bates Motel, not really certain of what it was I was getting into, and saw nothing out of the ordinary.

It was now 4:15 and I had to make a decision, so I swung back around and pulled into the parking lot, parking next to the office. Sure enough, there was a bar of some kind along the side of the office, hardly noticeable from the road. I walked very tentatively along the walkway and put my hand on the bar door, swinging it open.

Inside, I saw... nothing. The difference between the brilliant brightness of the day outside, and the cool semi-darkness of the bar made it impossible to see much of anything at first. It reminded me of walking into a movie theatre and having to feel your way along until your eyes adjusted to the surroundings.

I saw a guy standing behind a very small bar with five stools in front of it, all empty. I made my way to the nearest one and eased into the seat. It appeared that I had been stood up, but in a way I don't know whether I was disappointed or not. I had been half expecting friends of mine to come out of the woodwork and laugh at the practical joke they had pulled on me.

"I guess I'll have a bottle of Sam Adams," I told the approaching bartender after I looked behind the bar to see exactly what they had to offer in this hole-in-the-wall. The guy nodded and reached into the cooler and pulled out a frosty one. I refused the glass he offered, not wanting to press my luck, and watched him walk back down to the end of the bar to resume polishing the glassware.

I was trying to figure out who the bartender resembled, and decided that he looked like either the drummer for Cheap Trick or the guy that played the station owner on the sitcom News Radio. He was about my age, tall and heavyset with big black eyeglasses and a dour expression on his face. I was getting ready to start shooting the breeze with the guy, almost tempted to tell him what I was doing being tricked into showing up at this dump, when my nostrils flared.

That scent again. A gentle vanilla scent that I remembered from the bus. Then, I felt the presence of someone standing behind me, and that someone putting their hands over my eyes.

"Guess who Bob?" I heard Kelly cackle in my ear.

She was there after all, and had apparently been sitting in a booth behind me.

"Hi Kelly," I said as she came around me and leaned into my side.

"Care for another one, Kelly?" the bartender said as he appeared out of nowhere while Kelly kissed my neck.

"Absolutely!" Kelly squealed. "This is my man, Bob" she announced proudly.

The bartender nodded toward me and filled up Kelly's glass with straight Jack Daniels before retreating to his corner once more.

"Gee Bob, I was starting to think I was being stood up," she said loudly before knocking back half of the drink.