You continue onward

Of its own volition your hand snakes its way toward the button, the fantasy running rampant through your mind. It's only the bus hitting a pothole that stops you from pressing the button. The jarring impact makes you stumble, accidentally jerking the front of your hoodie almost open but moving both hands lower onto the pole.

Letting out a shaky breath you lean into the cool metal, willing it to affect the steamy heat between your thighs where it feels like you'll soak through the clinging fabric of the short shorts.

For the next several blocks you cling desperately to the pole, afraid that if you let it go you'll either run back to the theatre or jam your fingers into the shorts that are already showing a damp wetspot and cameltoe.

Finally you get off the bus, hoping you got the right address. Without your phone to verify it you're going by memory, and that's not always accurate.

Still, you're here now, so you'd better follow it through, right?