Flash: The Archer (Part 2) – The Reaction

Image from freedigitalphotos.net

Rating: Mature

Banging open its doors, the metro bus traded another group of afternoon commuters with a tide moving out and a wave moving in. Susan stared outside hoping people would take the hint that she wanted to be alone. She still debated trading her car for cash. Now limited to public transportation, the trip between her apartment and her department store job went from a short fifteen minutes if lights were with her to over an hour unless she hit the transfer jackpot. Today the commute home was exceptionally bad after being on the wrong bus for five stops.

Someone in her peripheral vision paused by her row, dragging her out of self-flagellation.

“Is this seat taken?” a smooth baritone asked. Susan forced her eyes to look at someone directly. Her eyes started at the belt buckle and crawled up. Past the sweat stained shirt declaring a name of Billy working at DJ’s Recycling. Over the dark almost beard hiding the shape of Billy’s chin. Stopping a moment to trace the purple scars scratched into the man’s face. To finally focus on two of the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Her heartbeat stopped.

The bus lurched and restarted her heart. “No, please sit.” Susan tried to ignore her tightening breasts and moisture pooling in her nether regions as he took her up on the offer.

“Billy” he said, offering his hand. Susan stared at the well-scrubbed pink hand before gripping it. All she could think of was his callused tips dragging across her nipples. What was happening to her? Her fantasy life usually was limited to the camera and software at her apartment.  With her behind the camera, outside the action.

“Susan, Susan Freeman.” She responded before reluctantly removing her hand from his warm grasp. She half turned in her seat as his wide shoulders encroached on her area, bringing her wide thighs into direct contact with his uniform encased legs. The surge through her system sent her mentally inventorying her apartment for working batteries.

“Nice to meet you Susan … Susan Freeman.” He responded in a voice that made her insides crawl, and her hands itch for a sound board. What a great narrator’s voice.

“James Bond fan?” She responded, hoping to hear his voice again.

“More like movie fan.” He said turning his body towards her. His lips parted in a smile so perfect she would have given up a day of chocolate to film it. “You?”

“Oh, something much worse.”

The man’s expressive face shrank in pretend horror, the recent scarring hardly noticeable in his constant animation. “No, not a critic!”

“Worse than even that.” Leaning forward she shared in a whisper. “I am a wanna-be. A wanna-be-director.”

The bus came to a stop causing her to glance outside. One more stop, she thought.

The response of “Really?” had turning back to the first man she ever wanted in front and behind the camera. “How badly are you wanna?”

Very, very badly wanna, she thought. To think she wouldn’t have met him if she hadn’t daydreamed her way on the wrong bus. “Enough to sell everything I got to get my own RED. My friends think I am crazy.”

He nodded. “Art students usually are. Which school are you attending?”

She shook her head, her brown curls bounced off her plump cheeks. “Not a student. Remember I had to buy a camera. Students have resources.” Susan focused on the driver’s head four rows ahead. “I created a couple shorts using a camera phone I posted to YouTube. They got a lot of hits. I always loved movies and writing, with the Internet response the bug bit big time. Now I’ve sold pretty much everything and spent every cent on equipment and software. Don’t even have money for rent this month.”

She refocused on Billy as her depression came rolling back. “I’ve been so stupid.”

Consideration crossed his face. “How many hits?”

She almost reached up to kiss him. No one had ever asked that. Not her co-workers, not her friends, not her family.

“About 12 million between the two.”

His blue eyes blinked. “Twelve … million?”

Smiling happily at the first person who seemed to get it. “The Moonpie Werewolf got more hits, but I feel Vampire Twister is the better of the two. “

“Those were yours?” he gasped. “Hon, hate to break it to you, but you got talent. Stupid would be not trying.”

The brakes squealed indicated another stop. Double-checking, she stood to get off. He stood letting her by. Feeling reassured someone liked her work, she disembarked. Sure, twelve million hits indicated interest and the ton of comments helped – but actually talking to someone who like it! She started floating towards her apartment.

Behind her came the perfect rolling baritone again. “Hey hon.”

Her body turned to face him. The other commuters scurried away. She debated responding, but seeing his face again outside the bus made her heart race. In for a dime, in for a dollar – as she had been telling herself for months now. “Yes?”

“Look. I don’t normally come this way. Got some buds catching the game at a sports bar tonight and I need to get food before male bonding with alcohol. Want to grab some pizza?”

She smiled sadly. “Sorry, don’t have any money.”

“I’ve got plenty.” He waved a hand over his face. “Car wreck two months ago. Lawyers are still working out the details, but the other guy is rich and they don’t want it to hit the courts. I’m set for the rest of my life if I don’t live large. I just got to accept no woman will ever look at me again.”

Susan grabbed the fallen hand and started pulling him to her apartment. “No woman ever look at you again? Really? God, just wait until I got you in my sights.”

In for a dime, in for a dollar “And between my legs.” She added.

(Words 993; first published 12/12/2012; republished 2/10/2019)