Two lonely moths swirl around the glaring streetlamp that casts a ring of light around the dusty bus stop. You watch them passively as you wait alone for the Red Line to take you home. It was another long shift at the hospital, and your scrubs stick to your back in the humid summer night air. You sigh as you resign yourself to another night of light beer and the leftover Chinese food waiting for you at home in the fridge.

It’s been three months since your last girlfriend moved out and the apartment is starting to show it. You keep up with laundry and bills and even vacuum once in a while, but it’s just not the same at home without someone else around. You’re a little lonely, to be honest, and you miss being touched. Your mind starts to drift down the well-worn path of erotic memories from past relationships. You really need to get back on the dating scene, but it’s so difficult to find the time. You really just need to get laid with no strings attached, but even the effort it would require feels like too much.

The approaching bus breaks your thoughts of past girlfriends just in time to avoid melancholy. You push yourself off the bench and stand.

Your knees ache as you board the three ridged steps onto the bus and pay your fare. It was another long work day and your feet are killing you. You swing the strap of your backpack off your shoulder and glance down the aisle for the first open seat. Thankfully, the bus is sparsely populated, which is typical for this time of night. You step toward the nearest spot, which is a side-facing handicap seat. You’ll move if someone needs it, you tell yourself, and besides, the extra legroom sounds nice.

You plop down and drop your backpack on the seat next to you as the bus rumbles forward. You first notice her as you stretch your arms out in front of you, palms facing away, and you catch her eye. She’s seated directly across from you. She’d barely registered when you first boarded the bus, but now that you’re facing her, she strikes you as gorgeous in a cute sort of way. She’s definitely younger than you by a generation, but she appears mature for her age. There is an eighties cartoon lunchbox on the seat next to her, which makes you think she may have just finished work, but it also lets you know that she’s into retro kitsch. Perhaps she’s into the culture of your younger days.

She catches you ogling her lunchbox and gives you a shy grin. Your heart flutters momentarily. You smile and nod politely in return, then turn away and look out through the windshield to avoid seeming creepy. Her smiling face, though, is seared into your brain in just that short exchange. You close your eyes and retrace every curve of her face in your short-term memory, trying to hold on to it in the fleeting filing system of your mind.

She appears to be Japanese or Korean, or some combination thereof. Her short bobbed black hair fell just above her collar and her bangs made her look stylish and younger, perhaps, than her true age. Her almond shaped eyes are dark, almost black, and glimmered despite the harsh interior lighting of the bus. Her small, pierced nose had crinkled endearingly when she smiled, and she’s wearing purple lipstick, which seems playful.

You open your eyes and risk another brief glance at her, then quickly look away. She didn’t catch you this time, and you’re thankful because you allowed your eyes time to wander over her body. Now you add her wardrobe details to your mind’s image. She’s wearing a crisp fitted white oxford shirt, short-sleeved, which seems appropriate for the stiflingly warm summer night. Her bare arms are pale and petite. Her shoulders are narrow, and her chest is small but perky and seems to fit with the rest of her diminutive frame. Her fingers are interlaced and lying in her lap, covering a short plaid skirt, and her slender legs and knees are together. She’s clearly too old to still be in school, yet her clothing hints of a schoolgirl uniform.

You shake your head slightly as if to clear the image from your mind, trying to be respectful but wanting to study her more. You clear your throat and look at the ceiling, then check your watch. It’s late, you’re tired, and she probably is, too. You’re both just trying to get home for some rest, you tell yourself, and the last thing she wants is a creep lusting after her on the bus.

However, you just can’t help yourself. You steal another glance at her and find she is now looking forward out the windshield, but she’s spread her knees slightly, just enough for her slender pink thighs to be visible. Without planning to, you catch a glimpse of the curve of her hamstrings and slowly let your eyes drift down her slender calves. She’s wearing short ruffled white ankle socks and black Converse shoes. Her pale skin looks smooth and warm, and you find yourself desiring to run your hand up her legs.

You break your gaze away from her silky calves and back to her face, then realize she’s looking directly at you. Your eyes connect, and she has an inquisitive look that surprises you. You try to smile, but realize too late that only half your face obeys and that you’re giving her a lopsided, goofy grin, and you feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You’ve been caught lustily giving her body a once-over, and you wonder how she’ll react.

Thankfully, she raises a hand to her mouth to cover a giggle. She looks toward the floor, then back to meet your eyes. You smile genuinely in response, thankful for her acceptance, and let out a sigh of relief.

She fans her hand in front of her face, as if acknowledging the heat of the summer night, and her eyelids scrunch at the corners as she continues looking at you. Her dark eyes sparkle again, this time with mischief. With wonder, you watch as she bites her lower lip, then she slides her hands down to her thighs to her knees. She slowly spreads her legs, then giggles again and closes them back together, but not before you catch a glimpse of white panties underneath her short skirt.

You inhale sharply and feel more like a peeping Tom than you’ve ever felt. She keeps her gaze steady on your eyes as she purses her lips in a seductive gesture, then slides her knees apart again. She quickly glances down, then back to your eyes, and cocks an eyebrow, as if inviting you to take a look. Her eyes dart toward the back of the bus, confirming that the other riders are absorbed in their phones or asleep, then she scoots forward on the bus seat ever so slightly as her knees part farther.

You feel arousal in your core as you confidently slide your eyes slowly down her body, first to her chest, which is rising and falling faster than you would expect, and then to her short skirt. Her dainty fingers tug the hem of her skirt up an inch. You can see that she’s wearing sheer white panties, and you can make out a slim patch of dark hair through the translucent material.

You quickly glance back to her face, wanting confirmation that she is intending you to look. She bites her lip again and looks down at her body then back to your eyes, giving consent to your participation in her exhibition. You quickly look back down to her panties. One hand is lifting her skirt while the fingers of her other hand dance across her slender thighs, then dip under her skirt and slide across her mound.

You can’t believe this show is all for you, but she clearly wants you to look. You take a careful glance toward the bus driver and the other passengers for yourself, confirming that no one else is watching, then are surprised when you look back to see that she has pulled her panties to the side. She’s tracing her fingers through the straight, jet-black hair on her mound, but she’s fully shaved below. Her rosy lips are clearly swollen; she’s obviously enjoying this as much as you are.

The bus turns a corner and her body rocks to the side. She lets go of her panties and uses her hand to steady herself for the turn. Her knees come together as she looks out the windshield, hiding the sight of her gorgeous sex. Deflated, you try your best not to feel disappointed that the show is over, yet you know your memory will give you plenty to masturbate to later when you’re alone.

Surprisingly, however, she turns back to you as the bus straightens out. With a wink, she reaches into her purse on the bus seat next to her and retrieves what looks like a black lipstick case. She raises it to her mouth, and instead of applying lipstick, she gives the black cylinder a kiss, then twists the bottom. To your amazement, lipstick does not appear, but you perceive the faintest buzzing sound.

Another glance at the other passengers confirms for her that no one else is watching, and she reaches down again to lift the hem of her skirt and spreads her knees. With her other hand, she traces the small black vibrator against her panties. She lets out a cute sigh, then you watch in wonder as she presses the buzzing toy against her pussy. Her knees come together and her feet arch upward, flexing her shapely calves. She throws her head back against the bus window, causing her hair to cascade down her slender neck.

You try your best to stay in your seat instead of rushing to kneel before her for a better view. You want it to continue, and she’s clearly getting off from you watching, so you stay put and shift uncomfortably in your seat, desperate for some relief but wanting to avoid anything that may end the show early.

Her eyes are closed now, and you can see her breath is coming short and fast. Again, she pulls her panties to the side, revealing her swollen sex, and presses the black vibrator against her engorged clitoris. Your eyes are glued to the scene across the aisle from you, and your own arousal is nearly peaking.

You glance back at her face. Her cheeks are flushed, and she runs her tongue over her pearly teeth. She lifts an arm and runs a hand through her dark hair, then reaches between her legs with both hands. She presses and swirls the vibrator around her clit in small circles. Her knuckles are white from the pressure she’s using. She slides down farther in her seat and spreads her knees, which opens your view of her femininity.

You hear a faint, high-pitched whimper over the noise of the diesel bus engine. She’s nearing climax, and you desperately wish you could join in with her. Yet, you stay still in your seat, transfixed by the show in front of you.

Suddenly, her eyes fling open and she locks her gaze onto you. She dips her chin, and the look on her face is feral. Your mouth is agape, but you look deep into her eyes, aware in your peripheral vision that she’s intensified the motion of the vibrator against her sex. Her mouth drops open again, and the corners of her lips pull back into an animalistic smile, then her body convulses. Her head swings forward, messing her hair, and her abdomen contracts, shifting her shoulders forward. Her slender legs crash together, and you can imagine her toes curling inside her Converse shoes.

As abruptly as it arrives, soon her orgasm is over. She inhales deeply with her eyes closed and shakes her head back and forth, shimmying her hair back into place. She smiles as she opens her eyes, then gives you a wink and blows you another kiss. Without a word, she raises the little vibrator back into your line of sight and twists it off. Her head bobs back and forth a bit, as if saying thanks to her little toy, then she nonchalantly places it back in her purse.

The bus slows and pulls over. The driver makes a garbled announcement about the location. She grabs her purse and stands. She is taller than you expected, and her short skirt barely covers her shapely legs. She takes a step toward the bus door, then pauses, turns back to you, and bends over at the waist. She kisses your cheek, lingering for a moment with her lips near your ear. Her perfume smells of flowers and vanilla. You are desperate to hear her voice, for a message, or perhaps an invitation.

Instead, she giggles, stands back to her full height, and quickly steps out of the bus. Your last view of her is the swish of her skirt in time with the sway of her hips. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and wonder if you’ll ever see her again.