The Red Velvet Horse (Siren Publishing Allure) by Iona Blair Page A

rippled through her sexually frustrated body as she strived to appear normal and retain her composure.
    They were talking about bus schedules and as he reached above her to rewind the destination sign, it took all of her willpower not to touch his arms. They looked so hard and inviting, yet tender and vulnerable too, below the short sleeves of the blue uniform shirt. She would also have liked to unzip the fly of his gray pants and treat him to the best head he had ever had.
    Later that evening, she boarded the last bus of the night. Wrapped up against the frosty elements in a fur-trimmed black cape with hood and matching knee-high boots. Her pussy salivated with longing as she eyed the sexy bus driver.
    “You’re out late tonight,” he remarked, as they waited for ten minutes at the layover point. The bus was parked high on a steep hill, with the lights of the city spread out before it like a glittering cloak.
    “I felt closed in, just wanted to get out for a bit.” Her voice was husky, rife with passion. “It’s lovely here.” She could feel the wine she had drank that evening spreading warmth and courage through her trembling limbs.
    He was writing on a clipboard but stopped when he heard the inflection in her voice. Turning to her and smiling with his expressive eyes, it made her insides turn to mush.
    April flicked her tongue across swollen lips and was about to approach him seductively, when another passenger boarded the bus and the moment was lost.
    When she got on the bus the following evening, much to her disappointment, someone else was driving. This discouraging turn of events was repeated for almost two weeks.
    Was he on holiday? She wondered with a franticness bordering on mania. Or, had he been transferred to another route? While the possibility that he no longer worked for the bus company was too awful for her to even contemplate.
    I have to have him, she thought desperately, the seeming impossibility of such an exciting consummation making it infinitely more desirable.
    “My mother, who is very elderly, is upset because the regular driver is no longer on her bus,” she lied to the Bus Company. Cradling the receiver on her left shoulder while gently filing her nails. “He was always so helpful to her, and she misses him very much.”
    Her duplicity paid off. For not only did she learn that he was indeed on vacation and would be returning the following week, but, and this was an added and quite unforeseen bonus, his name…
    It was Curtis.
     
    * * * *
     
    April shuddered at the bus stop on a blustery December day that set the evergreens waving about like outlandish feather dusters. Would Curtis be driving the bus today, she wondered? She had not seen him in over two weeks.
    A small group of equally chilly folk stomped their feet and shivered along side her with steadily mounting impatience. Complaining about the quality of public transport in the city and questioning why the buses never ran on time.
    It was he.
    Looking even more attractive than she had remembered, in a freshly laundered blue shirt, which accentuated the color of his eyes.
    Feeling unreasonably awkward and self-conscious, she nevertheless managed a weak smile and a hastily whispered “Hi.”
    He returned the greeting warmly and covered the coin box with his hand, refusing to take her fare.
    ”I…” she murmured rather foolishly, but by that time other passengers were shoving her from behind and she had no choice but to make her way deeper into the bus.
    He didn’t take my fare, she exalted to herself during the short ride home, and when she alighted from the bus thanked him most warmly and wished him “good night” in her sultriest tones.
    However, her dreams of being alone with him again at the layover point were always thwarted by other passengers on the bus.
    “Damn,” she muttered aloud as this unhappy occurrence was repeated for yet another time. Well there was only one thing for it, she decided, desperation winning out