Fantasy in the City

The Bus Stop

Rain poured from luridly underlit, leaden clouds in silvery streaks that glittered in the lights of passing traffic.  The droplets that gathered in the creases of the girl’s gabardine coat drew her eyes as she dialled a number on her cellphone, shielding it from the foul weather.  Like pearls, she thought as she waited for an answer.

At last a faint voice answered with bumptious cheer.  The girl grimaced.  The pavement was wet and although it didn’t bother her, it was somewhat embarrassing to be sat in the middle of it, blocking the shelter at the bus stop. 

Rain always brought these collapses on.  Normally she was adept at avoiding trouble but she had ignored the signs of an impending sudden downpour.  The thick air, the metallic taste of it, had not flagged up their usual warning signs when she had rushed to catch a bus to take her into town to her date with Paul.

She looked down at her legs and cursed them for the traitorous appendages that they were.  Her skirt was ruined.  She was certain that when she had collapsed she had not just fallen into a rather greasy puddle, but one that contained an improbably large lump of discarded gum. Annoying as that was, she was more concerned about the forthcoming conversation.  

“Paul, it’s me,” she said.

“Hi!   Where are you?  I thought we said eight.” 

“I’m at the bus stop.  Look, I’m really, really sorry but I’m not going to be able to make it.  Not tonight.”

There was a momentary silence that was pregnant with disappointment.  A bus rumbled past, shaking the ground beneath the girl.  Distracted by her phone and her discomfort, she barely noticed.  Her entire being seemed intent on the plastic tablet clutched in her hand.

“What?  But I’ve got a table at the seafood place that you really like.”

She winced.  Paul really did have an annoying habit of whining at the smallest reverse.  He thought it charming and when they were together he would lay his head in her lap, look up at her with those puppy dog eyes, then ruin the effect by whinging a sing song demand that he thought endearing.  Paul wants a kiss!  Paul needs a kiss!  Well, she would rather kiss a clam when he put that act on.  But those eyes!  Those, dark, languid eyes!  How they would gaze at her, their lids half closed, drawing her in irresistibly.  The girl shivered with repressed desire.  Now was not the time for this.  Not while she was sat in a puddle in the street, unable to walk.

“I’m sorry, Paul.   It sounds great but something has come up.  I would come if I could but I just can’t.”   Something caught her eye and she sighed.  In the gutter, water gurgled happily as it streamed around her discarded red leather stilettos.  She watched as the hide darkened to a shade closer to blood.   Christ on a bike! Those were a hundred and fifty pounds!  Ruined!

“Is it work?  If you have to stay late, we could just grab a quick bite.  I really need to see you!” Paul pleaded.

“No, I can’t do that.”   

A passerby stopped and asked if she was all right.  She was a small and mousey woman with a beanie pulled tight over her head and anxious eyes that peered at the girl through rain spattered spectacles.

The girl, distracted from her phone call, snarled up at her with crystalline, needle sharp teeth, “Look, just bugger off!  I don’t need any help!” 

Face pale, the woman stumbled back, tripping over her shopping bag, her eyes flickering alternately between the girl’s teeth and then her legs.

“What?”  Paul protested.  “What did you say?”