Bus Seat

The Consensual Stalker

She got up from the bus stop bench and boarded the bus. As they walked down the aisle he encouraged her to the row of seats just in front of the full width bench seat at the back. She slipped into the window seat on the sidewalk side of the bus, and he slipped into the seat immediately behind her. She could hear his breathing as he leaned forward, immediately behind her the back of her head. "Relax, and make yourself comfortable, settle yourself into the comfort and contour of the seat, and lean back." As she settled in her seat, she felt him put his face into her hair, and take deep breaths of her freshly washed hair, knowing he was appreciating the apricot fragrance of the shampoo he had instructed her to buy, and use this very morning.

She had always hated the seats on the city buses, the semi-contoured bare fiberglass, with no cushioning. It was not a comfortable seat at all, it was hard, and cold, and unforgiving. She moved and squirmed into the seat, "Now, adjust your skirt so it is out from under your legs, so that your bare skin is against the seat, and gather it up around your hips." It was such a short skirt it did not take much effort to hike it up out from under her bottom, and she felt the cold fiberglass pressed against the backs of her thighs, and through her little bikinis panties. The chill of it made her shiver.

As she sensed him right behind her; she recalled how he had reached around her in the produce market, and the way he had manhandled her at the book store. Her mind raced ahead, fearing some similar exposure, wondering if he would be so bold and touch her that way in this broad daylight, passing public, open aired venue. She shivered at the thought, and felt her embarrassment rising, she wondered if he would have the audacity to do that again. Even as she was imagining what he might do, she felt his hand in back of her neck, combing his fingers through her hair, like he was reacquainting himself, and reconditioning her. He gripped tighter, she winced and stiffened.

His hands pushed her hair up on her neck and moved her hair aside. He pushed on the back of her head and she was forced to tilt her head down, and forward, in response to the pressure. He held her head still like that and she heard rustling sounds, then a mechanical click, and felt something on the back of her neck, a pressure, a coldness, just below her hairline. It made her shiver, and she felt a rush of fear. Was it a knife, or blade of some kind? In a soft, shaky voice she asked, "What, what was that? What did you do to my neck?" His reply, "It is just a mark, nothing to be concerned about." He spread her hair aside further and rubbed his fingers around and over the spot. "See, it is fine, not to worry." She felt no pain or discomfort, it seemed she would just have to "trust" that this "mark" was really nothing serious, she hoped not.

He continued rubbing the back of her neck, down to her shoulder, with firm pressure, nearly like a massage. She felt that her muscles very tense. Then, in a deep, heavy voice, whispering into her ear, she felt his hot breath, "Relax, everything is fine. Let go of that tension; yes, good girl." She closed her eyes and felt the relaxing massage on the back and side of her neck. She did relax, some, but was still apprehensive about what lay ahead, surely this was not the end of it. And, what was this mark on the back of her neck about?

Then, his fingers spread through her hair again, moving to the right side of her head away from the view of other passengers. She felt him tracing all around the outer edges of her ear and then around the back of it, then tugging slightly at her ear lobe, seemingly just bothering at her ear. It felt good she decided, relaxing some, letting herself feel the attention, feeling the sensuality of it, no longer fearful. And then his finger was dancing around her ear, in slight brushing touches, and all over her ear, and then onto it, lightly probing the folds of her ear. Then he took hold of her whole outer ear in his hand and gently rubbed and caressed it. Her breathing was becoming shallower, no longer relaxed. He told her to let the tension out of her body, to cross her ankles and tuck her feet back under the seat, to relax her legs.

He let go of her ear, and moved his hand down to her jaw, and leaned forward so that his head was along side of hers, pressing his cheek against the side of her head, and murmured into her hair. As he pressed his face against the side of her head, his hand slide down her jaw, to her chin, and then down under her chin to her throat. His hand pushed up under her throat, lift her jaw, tilting her head back slightly, and he kissed the side of her cheek. His palm brushed across the side of her face, over her forehead, her nose, cheeks, and moved up and covered her eyes. She felt his lips and breath at her ear, "Remember how I touched you in the store? And in the book shelves at Borders?" He moved his hand down off of her eyes, slowly down over her nose, her lips, her chin, and suddenly he was unbuttoning the top button of her shirt. She stiffened and said, "No, please, don't do this." She heard him make a slight chuckle and snort, and his hand returned to her neck. "How are you feeling?"

She thought about it and realized how tense she was again, her legs were stiffened again but also she felt the dampness, and again cursed the bare fiberglass seats. She squirmed but there was no way to escape her growing wetness. He seemed to sense her reaction and said, almost under his breath, "Ahh, yes, very good sweetheart, very nice." His heavy dark whispering in her ear, and his warm breath, was forcing her recollection of the way he had made her climax during their previous encounters. He moved his hand up from her neck and was rubbing his fingers across her mouth, her tongue tried to moisten her lips but she just ended up licking his fingers and he spread them across her lips. And then he pressed his fingers in and forcing her to open her lips, slipping his fingers into the corner of her mouth, rubbing his fingertips along the inside of her cheek. She moved her tongue around and over his fingers, drawing them into her mouth even further, and then she was sucking on them.

And then he was saying, "Good girl, think about how you have touched yourself, laying in bed at night, on your side, curled up with your hands tucked between your thighs. Remember the suggestions I have given you, and how you have responded to them." She sucked on his fingers and recalled the way he had told her to lay curled up at night, how she would lightly touch herself and drift off. The recollections combined with his probing fingers were causing her chest to heave, her breathing to quicken and she struggled to calm herself. And then he asking her, "Are you ready?" Telling her, "Let go of your inhibitions." whispering, "Do you feel it building?" pushing her onward, "Are you ready now?" She was tense, starting to shake.

Then she felt his hand between her shoulders, pushing her forward, "Lean forward now, tuck your head down behind the seat in front of you, clench your thighs together, tightly, wrap your arms completely around under your thighs, squeeze hard together. Let yourself go . . . Now!"

next in the series . . .