On the Bus: Naughty Whispers

Chapter 1: Naughty Whispers

Chartreuse Collins looked out the window of the bus, she was thrilled they were stopping though she had very little money to get anything to eat she was still glad to be getting off the damn thing. She moved behind the other passengers until she was finally in the cool air and warm sun. Her eyes squinted against the invasion of brightness compared to the contrasting dimness of the bus interior. She pushed back the black curls that had escaped her ponytail and headed to the diner were many other passengers were going. Perhaps if she looked pitiful enough, someone would buy her a slice of pie.

The bell of the diner chimed as she slipped inside and found a place at the counter to sit. Her fingers dug into her pocket and she pulled out three quarters, a dime, and a nickel. She curled up her face and pushed it to the front of the counter and left it there. Eventually the money disappeared and a cup of steaming coffee was in its place. She sipped on it, added sugar and then cream before taking a look around and checking out any customers or bus passengers that would fit the "Good Samaritan" clause she remembered from her Bible School days.

Her eyes settled on the older man that had gotten off the bus before her. She hadn't spoken to him, then again she'd not spoken to anyone. Now she thought of what she could say to ease him into a friendly conversation, which of course would lead her to some money, in turn getting her some food.

With a determined stare she focused her blue eyes on the mop of gray hair, took a deep breath and with coffee in hand, headed over to make a new friend.

"Hi," Chartreuse said with a perky lift to her voice. She waited to be acknowledged before sliding into the booth. Her eyes continued to stare him down and when he moved over and handed her the menu she grinned even more. "Thanks," she said.

"They'll be retribution," he told her quietly.

"Oh?" she asked. Her gaze traveled over him and she smirked. "Kinky guy are ya?"

She was surprised by the rolling eyes he directed at her. "No," he answered. "Just company for the trip. I get lonely and enjoy conversation. This is a long bus ride and well. . .I tend to ramble and it would be nice to ramble to someone besides myself."

Chartreuse cocked a brow, but said nothing else. She studied the menu and when the waitress came over she gave her order and turned in her seat to begin her "job."

"So tell me, boss. . .what's your name?" She sipped her coffee and followed his gaze. His eyes seemed focused on her hands and she felt subconscious, as she looked at her stubby fingernails and chipped polish. Her hands fell to her lap and she waited for him to speak.

"Gabe," he said. He too was drinking coffee, black with no sugar or other additives. She grimaced her nose at the scent, but said nothing of it. She liked her drinks so sweet she couldn't taste the vile coffee bean, that was crushed into powder and camouflaged into something barely consumable by man or beast.

"Nice to meet you Gabe." She stuck out her hand and waited for him to take it. When he didn't, she sighed and slipped it back down to her lap. "I'm Chartreuse."

She had gotten many reactions when people heard her name. Most laughed. Some asked if her parents' had been high when they named her. Some asked her to spell it or say it again slower so they could better pronounce it, but Gabe did none of those things. He just looked at her and shrugged his shoulders.

"You know for a man that likes to talk you aren't doing it much," she said.

"I like to ramble. Right now there is nothing to ramble about," he told her.

The food arrived and Chartreuse heard her stomach roll from the aroma of greasy fries and meaty burgers. She was about to dig in when Gabe pushed it away. "She'll have a salad, roll, and soup. No dressing or butter," he told the server.

Her shoulders slumped and she stared at him, then her food as she watched it be swept away and carried off. "What the fuck?" she growled. She stood up to leave, but felt a strong grip on her arm.

"Sit down," Gabe told her.

The sparks in her eyes danced and she sat down only to pout until the food he'd ordered her was delivered. She said nothing to him or the waitress, but ate quietly until it was time to go. They boarded the bus, Gabe following her and then having her sit next to the window. He took the seat beside her and placed his hand on the arm rest between them.

"Chartreuse is an interesting name," he said. "There is probably a story behind it and someday perhaps you'll tell it to me."

"I doubt it," she muttered under her breath.

She heard him laugh, but she stared blankly out the window, refusing to acknowledge him. The bus rolled onward and as it did, the sun disappeared and darkness filled the space that surrounded them. Gabe had rambled during the bus trip and as night fell. Eventually Chartreuse was feeling her eyes close and she'd jerk her head up to bring herself back to focus. It was during one of those times she felt a hand brush her thigh.

"Shhh... go back to sleep, its just me," the voice whispered.

"I thought," she moaned softly as she felt the strong fingers massage circles into her thigh.

"It feels nice, doesn't it?" he asked.

"Yes, you do that very well," she hissed low. "But people," her voice faded off.

"It's too dark for them to see. I do other things well," he whispered. His hand traveled further and he parted her legs with his arm. "Open up for me," he told her.

She did. Her body was relaxed and she felt the rolling of the bus under her as his hand moved over her soft panties. Chartreuse could have stopped him, but she wasn't sure how he'd react. Would he demand money for the food? Would he be willing to continue to feed her if she gave in? She didn't know what he'd do. The biggest question though was did she want him to stop. He was different somehow, he seemed stronger and more alive. His movements were sure and steady. Even his voice was thicker now that passion ruled it.

"Nice," he whispered against her ear. His lips pressed a kiss under her ear lobe and she gasped, then coughed to cover up the aroused moan that threatened to escape. "Shhh... baby girl. I want you to open up for me...more."

"Oh God," she answered, her voice barely audible.

She felt his fingers sweep her panties to the side and the cool rush of air mingling with the heat of his touch brought a shiver to her spine. Her body shifted on the seat and she lifted one of her hands from the arm rest and slipped it to the hem of her skirt. Carefully, scared that just the brush of fabric would stir suspicion, she pushed her skirt up higher on her thigh.

When he captured her clit with his thumb and finger her hips rose from the chair. He chuckled softly and slid his tongue over the curve of her ear. "You're a slippy one, aren't you?"

"Mmm..." she agreed. Her tongue snaked out and she licked her lips. "More," she whispered.

Chartreuse sensed his wicked grin. She kept her eyes closed as he began to rub the strip of flesh between the two digits while the others that accompanied his hand, massaged the thick folds of her sex. The heady fragrance filled her senses and she thought, "How could someone not smell me?"

He turned in his seat and raised the arm rest with his free hand and she could feel him turning toward her. The new position forced him to leave her clit, but allowed him access to her sweet hole, an opening he took and plundered with great delight. Chartreuse growled, but the sound was muffled when his mouth captured hers. He rammed his tongue into her as his fingers began the same rhythmic assault on her cunt.

"Fuck," she hissed when he finally released her mouth and allowed her to draw in a deep gulp of air. She wondered if she'd been to loud, but all she heard was a cough from somewhere off to her right. "Harder," she whispered.

She felt the additional insertion of a third finger and her body clamped around the invading force. Her pussy was not strong enough to keep him there. As he pulled out his nails scrapped the fleshy, juice covered walls until they were almost free of her welcoming home, then he impaled her again. Chartreuse rode the fingers that threatened to consume her, as she did she relished in the knowledge she would be rewarded this great pleasure as payment for listening to an old man ramble.

The fourth finger was added and she almost screamed. Inside she was. In her head she was violently swearing and insisting he fuck her hard and tear her open. She wanted to come and she wanted to feel his cock making her take every inch. She wondered what he'd feel like inside her and she pictured riding the old man's cock until he was gasping for breath and begging her to stop.

As he forced her pussy to accept his fingers she felt the edge of the cliff and grabbed his head. "Oh fuck," she hissed into his ear. "I'm coming."

He smiled against her black hair and told her to do it.

She did.

Her pussy erupted and come flowed hot like lave down her used cunt. The sweet nectar escaped the thoroughly fucked lips and down her shaky thighs. Her fingers clenched the fabric of her skirt and the fabric of his trousers. Stars flashed behind her clenched lids as he continued to plunge his fingers in and out, coaxing mini-climaxes from deep within her.

"Oh God " she whimpered into the fabric of his shirt as she rode out the shivers and shakes. He chuckled softly and eased his hand from her.

"You're on the bus the whole way right?" he whispered into her ear. He pulled his fingers free and ran them over her lips. She cleaned them, refusing to meet his stare, but instead choosing to keep her eyes closed and bask in the feeling of her fucked body.

"Good. I better go, before the old man gets back from the john," the voice told her.

By the time his words registered her passion sedated mind he was gone. Chartreuse sat up and looked around. Her eyes were wide and she reached up to turn on the overhead light that soon was illuminating her seat. Growls and complaints reached her ears and she immediately shut the light back off. She'd glanced around, but she had no clue who had been in the seat next to her. A minute later Gabe returned and she studied his silhouette. "Where were you?" she asked.

"The john. You fell asleep, but you're awake now. . .so do you need me to talk you into a quiet slumber again?" he asked.

"No," she whispered. "When are you getting off the bus?" she asked.

"Next stops mine, but I'll leave you some cash. I don't want you selling yourself for food, okay."

She eyed him more closely. "You were really in the bathroom the whole time?" she asked.

"Yes. That happens when you get to be my age. Sorry if I scared you by being gone," he answered.

"No . . . it's nothing . . . guess I was dreaming," she whispered.

"Girl, from the scent of things, it was some dream. Go to sleep," he ordered before reclining his chair and falling into a snoring slumber.

Chartreuse looked around and though she couldn't see his eyes she could feel them. Now the question that plagued her mind was, "Who was he?"