To the bus stop

You walk to the bus stop, and note with dismay that the homeless guy that usually ogles you isn't there.

You bite your lip fetchingly in the cooling late afternoon air. Be patient, you tell yourself. The whole point of not having every man grope every woman was to up the surprise and fear factor.

The bus arrives. You get on and pay the fare, then look at your options. It's a newer bus, the sort with comfortable, tall seatbacks that block most of the shorter passengers from view. There's a cluster of teen boys wearing shirts from one of the local university's fraternities sitting in the back; a couple of them in the aisle seats eye you appreciatively. There's a balding man sitting by himself midway up the bus. There's plenty of empty seats nearer the front.