The Bus Ride

by Susana

The moment came when I was least expecting it. Don't ask me how I knew or why I was so damn certain --my gut simply affirmed it. Years later, as I looked back upon the experience, I concluded that I had probably been anticipating it for a while --if only my subconscience had been aware at the point. But as I caught my first glimpse of her on that late afternoon of October, I could not believe that I had been so foolishly blind all along. And as she stepped into that bus and gazed up to meet my eyes for the first time, I also knew that she had arrived to fill a gap. The realization that she --and only she-- could be the only one to fulfill that emptiness came as a hard concept to grasp at first. But with every minute that passed, my chance was starting to slip away.

It was now or never, and I knew that I would never forgive myself in the future for letting my insecurity get in the way of such wonderful opportunity. Sitting in front of me, engulfed in her reading and tapping a restless foot, the subject of my dilemma remained ignorant to the indecisions going on in my mind. I simply sat there speechless, as if my vocal chords had lost all ability for communication; while my eyes just stared without even so much of a blink, as if they too had lost their power to her image. For how long this went on I do not know, but after what seemed like an eternity, my impatience surely began to grow on me. I was going to do it. How? I was not sure. All I knew was that I better do it, and soon. As if finally perceiving my growing distress and the watchful stare that of which she had been victim of throughout our bus ride so far, she looked up from the novel and simply stared back for a couple of seconds before the corners of her mouth slowly begun to curve and her eyes became filled with a more amiable expression.

Yes, she smiled at me. At me, the awkward stranger who had unexpectedly --and irrevocably-- fallen in love at first sight with her. Wait, love? Had I really just said that?

Yes, my mind had really thrown up that dreaded word at me; as if it'd been awaiting for the right moment --this moment --to produce it from under the deepest corners of my mind where I had been in refusal. But I needed to accept and embrace this fact, before it escaped me like so many other chances had flown past by before. I was going to talk to her, and before I even gave as much of a second thought to this new decision, my mouth spit out the words for me.

"Lois Duncan, interesting choice."

"She's one of my favorite authors."

"You have good taste, " I paused for a brief moment before adding, "Where are you headed to?"

"Anywhere."

I smiled.

"You?" she asked.

"Nowhere."

"What's your name?" she inquired next.

"Lilia," I simply replied.

"I'm Ariadne."

"Like the Greek princess."

"Yes," she looked back into my eyes with a certain depth and intensity that for a moment appeared as if she were trying to read my mind and figure my soul. But that moment was too soon gone, and her lips parted once more to let out the next words in a sort of soft whisper: "Lilia and Ariadne, traveling in the same bus to Anywhere, yet getting Nowhere."

"Let's get off on the next stop," I blurted the words out unexpectedly. With a nod, we both gathered our respective belongings and walked to the door, waiting for a final stop.

We got off and walked in the rain (for it had started to rain lightly halfway through our brief conversation), and held hands as if we were sisters, or best friends, or lovers. It was not awkward. How could it possibly be? It was the highest instance of bliss. And for some reason, I knew with certainty that my feelings were reciprocal. I could not let go of this moment --I could not let go of her.

"That looks like the place," she spoke as we came upon a tall building with the words "Dreamland Inn" glittering in red letters.

It was a hotel.

I nodded, and we both walked in the place still holding each other's hands. Definitely like lovers.

We got a room, room 234. We walked in. It was a nice area. Swirly designs decorated the plastered walls, several pillows adorned the king sized bed. Only the dim light of a lamp illuminated the room. It was the perfect scenery.

Through her wet clothes I was able to see the nakedness within her. Her pink nipples were perky in their coldness, calling for my touch and caress. I undid her of the soaking garments, and stared at the beauty of her perfect body. The flesh was goose-bumped, but it immediately softened with the contact of my hand as I cupped her breasts, then slid it down her sex to feel the wet liquid that had begun to form as a product of her desire. Yes, this lustful desire that I so needed. That we both needed. And our deepest fantasies were now about to be satisfied.

I proceeded with the exploration of her body. My hand had never before come upon such soft texture, my fingers never experienced the silky juices that bathed them entirely, my eyes never before delighted in such astounding figure --her protruding curves, and waist-long dark hair that contrasted so perfectly against her ivory, pasty surface. She took off my clothes and now we were both naked, warmed only by the heat of the other's body. Our embrace became tighter, and as I fell upon her on the bed, she let out a soft groan of pleasure. I removed the long strands of hair from her beautiful face, and saw into her eyes the fire burning for my body, my self, my soul. She wanted me, all of me. And I was going to give it to her, because I wanted her even more.

I stopped teasing her threshold, and introduced my two fore fingers in determination. I penetrated her in this way, and her moans of pleasure were my cues to keep on going. The fluids came in greater abundance, now showering my whole hand. I shoved in deeper, harder, escaping soft groans myself. She was mine, and only mine. I loved her, by God I so did. She arched her back and her beautiful breasts with pointed nipples came up in the air, exposed to the light, shinning in their round absolution. I leaned in and admired them; the hardness of the pink nipples, the way in which they bounced rhythmically. I had to taste them, my lust could not be denied of this uttermost satisfaction. So I inclined closer still, until my lips touched her perkiness, and with my tongue engulfed them in its entirety, one at a time. I sucked as a baby would, exalted in the highest pleasure. Her tits were all I could think about, all I would allow my mind to concentrate on. They were simply delicious, and no better adjective could ever describe them. We moaned in unison, each begging the other to "don't stop", and demanding "more, more", at a "faster!" and "harder!" rate and manner.

I removed my fingers from her sex for a bit and sucked on the juicy liquids, savoring them as much as I could.

She sat up and threw me onto the bed this time, next proceeding to sit on top of me, the perfect position for me to enjoy better my new lustful addiction. Well, my two new lustful addictions.

She rocked her hips first at a constant pace, but later faster as the emotions built up again. She caressed my neck and tilted my head back, kissing and licking my neck as she slid her fingers down my panties this time. And she penetrated me next, starting slowly like I did at first.

"Ariadne," I whispered her name. What a beautiful name.

"Lilia..." she said back as her lips then found my lips, and we both kissed full in the mouth, our tongues dancing with one another, having an intercourse of their own.

My hands found her waist, and I held them for a second, sliding down those voluptuous curves. But as if acting on their own will, they begun to slid up her titties, squeezing them as they bounced once again. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up...

The sweat gave her whole body a sort of glistening look, and in kissing the nape of her neck, I tasted the saltiness of it, which became sweet to my lips.

One hand remained caressing her right breast, while the other went back to its initial position down at the entrance of her sex, where the fluids returned to welcome me as the old friend who had given it so much pleasure.

After fingering each other, I went on top of her again, and with my tongue traced a path down her neck, her breasts, her belly button, until arriving at where I wanted to stop. She opened her legs for me again, and I inserted my tongue this time. The juices were even tastier coming from the direct source of the fluids. I sucked in, and let my tongue do the job. She pulled my hair and moaned my name even louder. She was reaching a climax again.

I lived to please her, I had become her slave.

She was mine, and I was hers.

That night we became one.

We did not stop until the light of the dawn shone through our window, and even then we could have kept on going. But we did need some rest and sleep, and so we cuddled in each other's arms still in nakedness, enjoying only the sounds of our agitated breathing, and the distant singsongs of the morning birds.

That night she was mine.

That night I was hers.

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