She stepped onto the bus, her tresses cascaded over her shoulders in shimmering chestnut waves. Her smile immediately filled the bus with sunshine. That smile seemed directed at me. With amazing grace, she dropped her money into the change box and sauntered down the aisle. She stopped and turned to me.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked.
I glanced around. The bus was nearly empty and yet she chose the spot beside me.
“N-n-n-o-o,” I managed to stammer.
She slid into the seat. Her delicate scent filled my nostrils.
“I’m on my way home,” she shared, glancing over at me.
I felt a lump in my throat and couldn’t speak. She was so beautiful.
“My husband isn’t home at present,” She murmured and placed a slender hand on my thigh.
My breath caught in my throat. My brain began to spin as her heady perfume captivated me and her suggestion sank in.
She slid her hand up and down my thigh, stirring a feeling in my loins.
The bus hissed to a stop. Taking my hand, she led me down the aisle and off the bus. I had to hold my newspaper in front of me to avoid embarrassment.
She closed and locked the apartment door behind her. Pulling me close, she whispered in my ear, “What do you want for supper, dear?”
“Whatever you want, love, but it’s my turn to pick you up on the bus tomorrow.”