Bus Stop Hookup | NEON LIT

The last bus was gone. Of fucking course it was.

I stood at the shelter, watching the timetable like it might magically change, resigning myself to a £40 Uber or a very long walk.

"Missed it too?"

She was sitting in the shelter, phone illuminating her face. Thick, pretty, wearing a tiny dress despite the cold—clearly coming from a night out that had gone wrong somehow.

"By two minutes," I said.

"Same." She patted the seat next to her. "Might as well be miserable together."

I sat. She smelled like vodka and vanilla perfume.

"I'm Carly," she said.

"Ben."

"Ben. Solid name." She looked me over. "You're fit, Ben. Shame about the bus situation."

"Shame about the bus situation why?"

"Because I was having a shit night and you're exactly the kind of distraction I needed." She sighed dramatically. "But now we're stuck here."

"We're not that stuck."

She turned, interest sparking. "What do you mean?"

"I mean—" I looked around. The street was empty. The next bus wasn't for an hour. "We could make our own entertainment."

"In a bus shelter?"

"Unless you've got a better idea."

She didn't have a better idea. What she had was a grin and wandering hands.

The bus shelter wasn't exactly private, but at 1 AM on a Tuesday, it was private enough.

Carly kissed me like the night depended on it, all tongue and desperation. Her hands were under my shirt, nails scratching.

"Been wanting to do something stupid all night," she breathed. "Ex was at the club. Need to feel better."

"Happy to help."

"Thought you might be." She dropped to her knees right there on the shelter floor. "Keep watch."

Her mouth was warm and eager, and I had to grip the bench to stay upright. Every headlight that passed felt like getting caught, and somehow that made it hotter.

"Fuck—Carly—"

She stood, hiked up her dress. "Your turn to make me feel good."

I lifted her onto the bench, spread her legs. Her knickers were tiny and damp, and I pushed them aside to find her wet and ready.

"Eat me," she demanded. "Make me forget that arsehole ex."

I buried my face between her thick thighs and did exactly that. She tasted like desire, and her moans echoed in the empty shelter.

"Yes—fuck—right there—"

She came on my tongue, shaking, fingers twisted in my hair. Then she pulled me up.

"Inside me. Do it."

I did, right there in the bus shelter. She wrapped her legs around me, moaned against my neck.

"Harder—come on—fuck me like you hate me—"

I gave her everything, pounding into her while she clung to me. A car drove past—we both froze, then laughed, then kept going.

"Cumming—fuck—yes—"

She came with a cry, and I followed seconds later, pulling out just in time.

We sat on the bench, catching our breath, as the next bus finally appeared on the horizon.

"Well," Carly said. "That was a much better night than expected."

"Happy to help with the ex recovery."

"Very helpful." She fixed her dress, pulled out her phone. "Number. I have shit luck with public transport. Might need rescuing again."

"Same bus route?"

"Different routes, same energy." She kissed me quickly as the bus pulled up. "Text me. I'm always missing buses."

We rode the night bus together, her head on my shoulder, both of us grinning like idiots.

Best missed bus of my life.