A half block from her car, the drawing popped back into her mind. And the shy artist who drew it, bumbling his way around a simple invitation for a dr...nk. And the darkest, softest eyes she’d ever seen. She felt her jog slow to a walk and heard Cynthia’s voice get closer. Then she stopped altogether and waited. This quiet artist was the first spark, however brief, she’d had in her life in months. In the ten seconds it took Cynthia to reach her, Aimee decided she wasn’t going to let Cynthia. She hoped he wouldn’t be getting off soon. Then she giggled, thinking that she really DID hope he’d get off soon, but she didn’t mean getting off the bus.It was all Brenda could do to stop herself moaning. She was deeply ashamed, somewhere inside herself, but the lust had overcome the shame. When the man lifted her skirt, she knew she should move. But she didn’t. Would he actually fuck her right here on the bus? In front of everyone? Brenda was biting her lip now to stop from moaning.She. More

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