Girl in the Terminal

I sat in the bus terminal, waiting on a greyhound to take me out of Calgary. I’d only been there one night, but I was ready to leave.

I’d had a few too many shots of rum the night prior and now, with every breath I took, it felt as though it would all come back up. Although, most of it already had the outside the pub that night, and I was left dry heaving.

The good thing about vomiting is it prevents a hangover the next morning, but it leaves a horrid feeling in your stomach.

There was a girl sat opposite me. We made eye contact for a second and she looked away. She was by no means the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, but there was something about her, I wanted her.

I watched her as she crossed her legs. She was wearing black leggings. On the right woman leggings are insanely attractive. She was the right woman and when she crossed her legs it showed.

The black fabric pulled tightly across her thigh. She has the kind of thighs that a man wants wrapped around their waist or head. Skinny girls with non-existent legs don’t do it for me. I want to feel a strong, constrictor-like grip take a hold of me, demanding satisfaction.

She saw me watching her, but she gave nothing away, once again looking away once our eyes met.

She pulled her leg higher, tightening the leggings, leaving me to wonder, to lust. I looked at those thighs like a child looks at and unwrapped Christmas present under the tree, wondering what marvellous gifts it contains, wanting to tear it open right then and there, but forced to wait.

She played with her hair. It was jet black, just like her pants, and as straight as a razor. She curled it around her fingers, but when she let go it fell perfectly back into place.

Holy shit, I wanted to fuck her more than I’d ever wanted anything before. I wanted to take her right there in the bus terminal, for all the other passengers to see.

I hoped she was on my bus. Perhaps I’d found the coach equivalent of the mile high club, the metre high club. Maybe I’d just make my move now, maybe I could take her in the terminal bathroom, perhaps a long shot, but stranger things have happened.

I looked away for a moment. I had a bottle of water and I took a few sips. People were already queuing for the bus, but she didn’t get up.

I had 40 minutes, I’d have to make my move now. I caught her looking at me when she thought I wasn’t looking. We made eye contact again. 

I shouldn’t have sipped that water. It was coming back up. I barely made it outside in time. I let it all come up and sat outside surrounded by my own vomit, smoking a fag.

By the time I came back inside she was waiting for the Toronto bus and my bus was boarding. Unless I wanted to miss my bus, I’d missed my chance.

As I handed over my ticket I took one last glance back. She was watching me. God, I wanted to fuck her.

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