Chapter Five: Bus Ride: "Classes"

I woke up slowly and stretched lazily at the loud, annoying buzzing of my alarm clock. My body hummed deliciously from the exploits of last night. I waited momentarily for a feeling of shame to roll through me. But it was inexplicably gone. I found myself wondering why I could feel so free when I knew for sure that what I had done was so wrong.

I rolled over and looked at my clock, watching it blink. The numbers threatened that I was running out of time before I had to leave. Instead of rushing, I snuggled deeper into my pale pink comforter. I closed my eyes once more to relive the new experience.

My body could feel the same thumping that went through it again, and I wanted desperately to move my hand between my legs and relieve myself once again. However, I knew if I even tried, then I would truly be late. Forcing myself out of bed, I stumbled to the shower and cleaned off the smell of last night from my skin.

My mind continued to drift between what I had done and what I had thought about at that moment. I felt as if I had been transported out of my body into another. I looked down at myself as I cleaned my body. I had seen myself naked a million times before. But suddenly, it was as if I was actually seeing my body.

My skin was soft and smooth as I ran my hand along my belly, washing it with my sweet apricot-scented soap. My breasts were full and firm, yet more than a handful apiece. Topping them were small but extremely sensitive nipples that hardened the instant my fingers brushed over them.

My…my private place was just as sensitive, and it tingled as I dragged my washcloth over it. I moaned slightly and pressed against it, harder, wanting more suddenly. Unable to help myself, I moved against it harder. Mr. Jones' dark eyes rose to my mind double the pleasure. I gasped as I felt the desire build, and I thrust harder as I imagined Mr. Jones encouraging me, urging me on.

I was close… oh god, I was so close.

A loud banging on the door scared me to the point that I jumped back and knocked over the shampoo container.

"Y-yes?" I stuttered out once my tight throat allowed me to speak again.

"You need to hurry up, young lady," Mother's voice snapped through the doorway. "How would it look if you were late on your first day?"

"Yes, Mother," I stuttered out.

I rushed through the rest of my cleanup, then jerked on the typical white shirt and green, black plaid skirt uniform that my private school called for. My cheeks were flushed with horror at almost being caught. Mother stopped me at the last moment before I could make a clean escape.

"Rebecca, your hair is not put up properly," she scolded me.

I stopped with my hand on the doorknob.

"I'm sorry, Mother. But I am running extremely late," I told her without looking back.

"I know. You were inexcusably lazy this morning," my mother chided me with a glower of disgust.

"I know, Mother. I am very sorry. It won't happen again."

"It better not. Punctuality is important in a proper young lady."

I rolled my eyes at her words, making sure to keep my head down so she couldn't see me.

"Remember to come straight home after class," she said unnecessarily.

"I know," I snapped.

"Watch how you speak to me," Mother demanded.

I took a deep breath and steeled my aggravated nerves.

"I will come straight home as I always do, Mother. Now, may I please leave? So, I am not late for my classes," I reminded her as sweetly as I could.

As if a person could call it a college. It was more like finishing school with the occasional educational curriculum. I knew I would learn SOMETHING there. I just couldn't guarantee it would be useful for anything beyond marrying a rich husband.

"You wouldn't have to worry about it if you hadn't decided to be so lazy."

I rolled my eyes again. "I'll see you when I get home, Mother."

I opened the door quickly and left before she could say anymore. Hurrying up the sidewalk, I kept my gaze down. I tried to pretend not to notice the light was on in the front room of Mr. Jones' house.

"Good morning, little one," he rumbled a greeting from the front door of the house I had absolutely, completely not noticed.

There was something in his tone that made my feet stumble over themselves as they skidded to a halt. I turned slowly and kept my head down to hide my flush as the memory of last night and this morning came rushing back.

"Good morning, Mr. Jones," I stuttered out, blushing even harder.

"In a hurry, are you?" he mused with a cockeyed smile on his face.

"I need to catch the bus," I explained as I pointed up the sidewalk towards the glass-encased bus stop.

"I see," he replied slowly.

I knew it was my imagination, but I could have sworn I felt his eyes moving over my body.

"Where do you go to school?" he inquired.

"St. Mary's for The Higher Education of Woman," I replied as I looked down at my black buckled shoes.

"All the way on the other side of town?" he asked in confusion. "Doesn't it take a while to get there on the bus?"

Surprised, my eyes jerked up to his face. He hadn't been here that long. How on earth did he know where I was talking about? His dark eyes hooked me immediately and bore into my own. There was a dark emotion in them, but he seemed to be trying to contain it.

"Yes," I replied. "An hour to get here and an hour and a half to get home."

"I didn't realize a school bus drove out that far," he commented.

"It doesn't. I take the city bus. I have since I was 12," I explained as I glanced over at the bus stop to make sure I hadn't missed it.

The guarded look was gone and was replaced by one of extreme displeasure. My stomach dipped as I wondered what I had done to make Mr. Jones upset with me.

"I should go," I tried to excuse myself.

As if my words called it to me, I heard the squeal of the brakes.

"Crap," I spat out and began to run.

As luck would have it, the driver spotted me just before he finished closing the door. He was kind enough to open it back up so I could board.

I readied a wide smile of greeting for the bus driver, having had the same one all my life.

Norman Wallace had driven the bus for decades. He was a short, rotund old man with a kind face that resembled the Disney version of a grandfather.

He had always been the sweetest man in the world and had kept an eye out for me ever since the first day I had begun riding the bus.

Instead of Norman's sweet, happy face, there was a brown-haired man behind the wheel. His pea-green eyes looked me up and down slowly, making my skin crawl. Though he did have a smile on his face, it was anything but grandfatherly.

"Well, hello, sweetie. Are you needing a ride?" The new bus driver asked in a smooth voice.