Words Not Spoken

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I was on one of my many Greyhound trips, traveling from some hum-drum city in rural Missouri to go back to California to visit some friends for the summer, on a bus somewhere in Montana that was mostly empty. If I recall correctly, there were only about fifteen of us on that particular bus, so I was sitting sideways, with my ankles crossed over the aisle. Most of us were, some were even laying down, sleeping even though the Montana countryside was beautiful. I don’t remember when he got on the bus, really. I just remember that he etimesgut escort took the seat across the aisle, slightly behind me. He was tall, enough that he had to stoop quite a bit so as not to bang his head on the roof of the bus. He had dark hair, and a good day’s worth of stubble on his face, black jeans and a blue tee shirt. It’s odd that I’d remember that, though I can clearly see myself as well. Black sundress, black flipflops, green purse, and my dark green travel blanket bunched in my eryaman escort lap as I worked on a crossword puzzle. At the first stop after he boarded, several of us climbed out for a cigarette. He wordlessly asked for one from me, and I handed it over, and we both chatted with other passengers. Some may consider it strange, but we never said a word to each other. Not a single word, aside from a whispered “sshh!” in my ear later on. No names were exchanged, no numbers. Nothing. Just a moment of heat. sincan escort I don’t remember how it all started, but I remember him touching my ankle, his thumb brushing against the inside of my foot. His fingers worked their way along my calf (because by now I’d slouched a little and had my foot resting on the seat in front of him) and after several long minutes, he stood up, and I moved over. We sat there, wordlessly, quietly in our seat, listening to the tires rolling over the pavement, and watching the sun slowly begin to set over the rocky terrain. His arm was slung over my shoulder, and as the rays of light kissed the distant mountains, his hand covered one of my breasts. It’s a slight blur, getting from that moment to the one where he pulled my legs over his lap, leaning one knee against the seat in front of us.

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