A Step Farther

Decided to try out prose a bit. Here goes nothing.

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"Looks like you're havin' a hard mornin', Tommy. Not even one of your frilly drinks could pretty up that face." The old bus driver, Sam, looked greasy as usual with white hair that suck up in odd places and an eye that was perpetually squinting. Thomas said nothing and dragged himself to a remote corner of the bus, not bothering to let go of his briefcase before he crumpled into the seat. The only thing keeping him awake was the rude jostling that came with public transportation. He couldn't ever be certain but Old Sam seemed to hit every divot in the pavement for his own amusement and the irritation of passengers. This, combined with the musty smell and oldies playing on the radio caused Thomas to lash out. He opened his bleary eyes and found what he was looking for, a victim.

There she was, legs spilling over the seat in front of her, white tank top, generous cleavage, red bra, and a faux black leather skirt. ''Probably coming home from a late night 'job'.'' He muttered under his breath, continuing his lust-inspired rant until he'd made a complete comparison between her and Snooki. While normally this would have been enough to quell his self-pity, he took it one step farther then he would have allowed himself on any other morning.

"Put some clothes on."

She looked over, eyes heavy with black eyeliner. There was something there that he'd never expected. Hurt.

Struck and blinking back the shadow of exhaustion he scrambled for some rational thought in his mind, but all that came to him was: Since when do skanks have feelings?

The bus stammered to a stop, Old Sam unaware of what had happened scratched absently at his back. Apparently, this was her stop. She looked him over like she was disappointed and stuck a pair of head phones in her ears. Was it possible someone like her was blocking Thomas out? As she swept past him he could smell the bar on 6th Street, but what he heard, that surprised him. It was not a fast string of profanities coming from her blaring IPod, but the sweet notes of Bach he knew so well. Hips churning the air around her she stepped off, short skirt slouching just enough to see a bright red thong.