Next to the young black guy

You brush your way down the crowded aisle of the bus, walking all the way to the back. The young black guy looks up at you and smiles. It's a big, genuine smile that puts you immediately at ease.

You sigh with relief as you settle into the seat next to him. You can't help but notice that he is also good looking, with big, brown eyes, full lips, and neatly-cropped hair. He's wearing a pair of corduroy pants along with his shirt and jacket. You see he's carrying a small zip-up duffle bag under his feet.

"Hey," he says and holds out his hand. "I'm Corey."

"Clarabelle," you reply, shaking his hand.

"You look like somebody who didn't leave anybody behind," he says. "Where you headed?"

You can feel him fishing for something.

"Reno," you say.

"Oh, yeah? Me too. I heard its a boom town. Gonna get a job at the Ranch."

"You know about the ranch? My mom works there."

He laughs and seems surprised.

"Really? Your mom?" He shakes his head. "You look like a good girl. Is that where you're going to work?"

"If she can find me a job there."

He looks you over and nods his head.

"Yeah, I think she will find you plenty of work." He seems extremely amused by this conversation and it's a little irritating. He glances around the bus and leans a little closer. "I'm broke, but if you want to practice anything, I'm your man."

"Practice?"

"You know, techniques or whatever. I knew this girl who did this thing with her tongue and..."

He stops as he sees your angry frown and red face.

"...ah, maybe I was wrong. Sorry. Sorry, Clarabelle. Forget I said anything."

The silence passes between you like the mile markers going by outside the windows. He hums quietly and does some drumming on his leg. Finally, your annoyance fades enough that your need for human contact overtakes it.

"So what sort of work do you want to get in Reno?" you ask.

"Well, I'm trying to gig. I stowed my guitar in the luggage. But I figure I'll get a job as a bouncer at one of the ranches."

"One of them?"

"Yeah there's a few. I figure, you know, young guy, great way to have fun and meet pretty girls." His flash of a smile betrays his nervousness. "What, um, what... I don't know what I should ask about you after you got mad at me."

"I think you were being a little rude with me," you say.

"No. No way. I think... you're super beautiful. Like, you've got the whole Heather Locklear thing going on with the feathered hair. Real, um, real sexy."

Your face reddens, but you don't frown this time.

"You're pretty cute yourself," you say.

You both sit back in your seats, smiling about your connection with each other. When you finally turn to look at him again, Corey leans in and kisses you on the lips. He doesn't jam his tongue down your throat or anything, but it's a firm, forward kiss. No mistaking what he's trying to communicate.