She was standing at the window. The leaves of the maple were golden in the sun, and the sky was so insanely blue that, smiling, she thought ... "If a woman had such eyes, many men would not find a place at night."
The window was open and she felt this amazing autumn aroma ... the smell of leaves, grass, earth and something else special. Taking a deep breath, she decided it was time. The last sip of coffee, a look in the mirror, and she was already walking down the street.
It was her season. Right now she caught the warm glances of men. "They want my body - let them." She was in a wonderful mood, it was her autumn, or to be more precise, it was her day. She felt that something was about to happen today. Something that will change her life, roll in a new unfamiliar wave, spin and rush somewhere forward.
The bus was full of people in the morning, as always, but she was glad that she was pressed against the window, thereby depriving her of the opportunity to stand nose to nose with some man and breathe what he had been doing all evening, and today he was trying ( well if you tried) chew gum. At the next stop, she was pressed even harder against the window. Someone stood close behind. She could feel her breath on her neck, the aroma of morning coffee with cream, and another smell that was hard to mistake for anything else. For a second she closed her eyes, autumn with its gold and blue disappeared, a warm wave enveloped her, slid down her stomach and beat a hot vein between her legs. It was the smell of sex. Slightly tart and sweet-salty. It was the smell of happy sex.
... The two spent the morning obviously not listening to the news on TV. Until recently, they gave each other passionate kisses, their bodies - beautiful and hot - merged in one impulse, her cool hands squeezed his wet back, and at the end she shouted out a name that was more expensive in the world. He, squeezing her hair, groaned and fell beside her. They lay, smiling at each other, and in the silence one could hear the beating of their hearts...
She opened her eyes, bright sunlight forced her eyes shut. She was tormented by curiosity - who is this happy young man behind her back? Well, why is it not evening now - she could see his reflection. But it is more curious to know what kind of beauty moaned with him in the morning, she certainly has insanely blue eyes. The bus rocked at the bend, and in the next moment, a warm touch of a hand made me close my eyes again. Gently and easily, the hand made its way along the thigh to the waist, where the short sweater began. She stood holding her breath, afraid to move. "If his fingers touch the skin, then..." God, how she wanted this! Another movement and she could feel his fingers...
They announced her stop. Hardly realizing what was happening, she rushed to the exit, getting on the go ... "You need less sleep!" Still not understanding what had happened, she stood at the bus stop with an absent-minded look and glowing cheeks, and autumn was raging around - her season.
...
The working day was not stressful... the bosses were on vacation, the texts that needed to be translated had not yet been brought. Everyone around was talking about Indian summer, drinking coffee and giggling. Mom called, asked what to get for her birthday, she answered something like ... "Thank you, don't worry, I love you too, mom ..."
- Did I miss the moment, - she thought, - or maybe it seemed to me? What actually happened? A smell, a hand, a wild desire - is that life-changing? After all, she was often molested on the street. No, there was something unusual in this hand! But what?!
Finally wrapping herself in thoughts and fantasies, she felt better only on the street. "I'll take a walk," she decided. The sun was already low, and a warm yellow light fell on the tops of trees and houses. Autumn calmed her down.
- And yet it's a pity ... - for the last time she thought. After passing several stops and finally making sure that for complete happiness she lacks a fragrant bath and something tasty, she hurried to the stop. People hurried home to their wives, husbands, TVs, armchairs and sofas. The bus was crowded. She stood squeezed from all sides, closing her eyes and dreaming of what to please herself for dinner.
Her heart pounded wildly as she caught the now-familiar scent. So, her premonitions did not deceive her, and this meeting was not an accident. Something must be done! Time passed, but nothing came to mind. Turn around and ask about a ticket or about a stop! Yes, it's stupider to just look for an idea. Time passed, no, it just slipped away like sand through your fingers. Need to do something! Not everyone gets a second chance!
The hand gently lay on the waist, lifted the edge of the sweater and gently touched just above the navel. Why wasn't she afraid of those hands? Why resignedly surrendered to these gentle touches? There was something unusual in this hand - it was not the big and warm hand of a mature man, and not the sticky hand of a peasant that always pinches and rubs on buses. No, the hand was cool and thin - a musician, probably. Without waiting for special invitations, the hand moved up, quickly and correctly found the nipple, squeezed it with two fingers, gently squeezed the chest with the whole palm and, sinking onto the stomach, pressed the two bodies to each other. Hot lips searched his ear, breath burned his neck.
- You smell like autumn, - whispered an excited, disturbing all the nerve endings, female voice. She turned sharply. No, there could be no mistake - a woman was standing in front of her! Her dark brown eyes smiled, and her lips repeated... "You smell like autumn..."
...
Two women were standing at the window. The sun's rays made their way through the amber foliage, basked on the amazingly beautiful female curves and buried themselves in the sheets on the bed. Autumn, with its changing mood, rolled on. It flared up with bright colors on the green foliage at breakneck speed, stopped for several days and, silently shaking its bare branches, slipped away, leaving a delicate aroma for those who are ready to wait again for a whole year of their time.