Strangers - Part 2
You could probably figure this out on your own, but I’m going to tell you anyway.
What the dark-haired man sees is — quite a shocker. It is nothing disturbing, if that is what you might be thinking. From said person’s perspective, it is, in fact, entirely the opposite.
There, standing over the sink, is a familiar young woman (not familiar to him, but still technically familiar) standing over the sink. As doing such, she appears to, in fact, be the one moaning. The biggest surprise, though, is the reason behind it; pun intended. As the woman holds the end of her dress over her (completely naked and nearly exposed) rear, another familiar person appears to be shoving his entire face within said rear.
Immediately then, the dark-haired man stares in shock, as well as disbelief. “Fuck — me,” he quietly says to himself. He then, hesitantly, tries fetching the device out from his right-hand pocket. Oddly enough, he cannot seem to grasp, nor even find it. Three seconds later, however, he soon realizes that he is holding said device within his left hand. He takes a second and a half to glance down the thing, right before holding it up in front of his head, switching the light of it on, and then turning it around horizontally.
It is not long before the familiar person behind the young woman finally rises. While continuing to look (even with the device in front of him), the dark-haired man soon realizes something; of course, I already know, and surely you do also, but I’m still going to reveal it anyway. It is, of course, the bald-headed man he met earlier. As the dark-haired man gawks in surprise, said person quickly begins to unzip his pants.
Before he can do anything else, the woman (looking through the mirror) immediately asks him, “What’re you doing?”
While holding — whatever it is in — his hand, the bald-headed man slowly answers, “What the hell do you think I’m doing? I mean, what’s it look like?” She does not want to say it. From what she can tell, it sure looks as though like he is pulling out his johnson, and is a second or two from sticking it right into her. To which, she quickly belches out, “No.” In which, the bald-headed man glaringly gawks, “You’re shitting me, right?”
From the look of it, the dark-haired man is wondering the same thing.
The woman (apparently trying to catch her breath), quickly, and slowly, responds, “Actually — I am.” Right on top of that, the bald-headed man starts to grin.
Seeing the bald-head man stick his cream-filler in the woman’s peach, the dark-haired man himself starts grinning as he watches two of them go for it; with no knowledge of what the device is getting, he can still get a good look for himself from the naked eye. A moment later, the bald-headed man, unexpecting, reaches his hand towards the woman’s head. By doing so, he immediately removes the hair clip from it, letting the hair itself roll straight down below her neck; she, of course, gives him a little help with it.
After (or during) that moment, the woman, surprisingly, notices something (or, should I say, someone) right through the left-hand-side of the mirror; it’s quite dim, from what she can tell, but she can still that it is a person within two seconds. Thinking to herself, ‘What the —’ she immediately spurts out, “Fuck!”
Thinking to act fast, the dark-haired man cannot find himself to do it; not only that, he is, apparently, still holding the device in front of his head.
“What the —” the bald-headed man loudly thinks, “’flying fuck are you doing?”
Finally putting his hand down, along with the device, the dark-haired man quickly thinks to himself, ‘I could ask you the same thing.’ This comes off as a very awkward moment; to him, at least.
It is then up until the bald-headed man’s left pants-pocket appears to be lighting up (it’s not catching on fire, just to clarify, it’s just lighting up — like a lantern); from the sound of it, it may also be vibrating. He then reaches into his pocket — and pulls it out. Upon doing so, he immediately glances down at it. Only this time, he sighs, “Fuck me.”
Ironically, the young woman should have been thinking that. But instead, she and the dark-haired man stared at him.
“I gotta go anyway.”
“What for?” she asks.
To which, he turns the device around at a certain direction, as if he is trying to show her something, “I gotta call my goddamn wife.”
The young women’s eyes widen as she begins glaring, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
The bald-headed man quickly shrugs. “Afraid not.” Right then and there, he immediately storms out. Upon that, things get even more awkward as the young woman and the dark-haired man stand seven feet away from each other; one of them even looks at the other for half a moment.
After placing his device right back into his pocket, the dark-haired man, hesitantly so, attempts to walk over to the door himself. In doing so, he then mumbles, “I’m’onna — get going.”
Just as he is about to do so, the young woman gives him a mild glare. That is clearly his cue to beat it, it must be; at least, according to himself.
As quickly as he himself exits the room, the dark-haired man scurries right through the small crowd of bye-goers; and from his stand-point, it’s actually as easy as it may sound. Not only that, he even manages to walk out and exit the building itself — at the same time-frame. It is a lot cooler than he remembers it being, or maybe it had been that way from the get-co and he may have been inside a little to long. For a brief moment, he seems quite hesitant on what to do next. Within a moment later, the only thing that does accre to him is to head over to the nearest bus stop, which is about 2-3 bocks from from where he is. It would now appear as though that the dark-haired man is not quite hesitant this time, as he then takes a short walk; and by short, I mean that it takes only about a minute or two before he finally makes it to the nearest bench. Upon noticing that there is someone else present, the dark-haired man quickly takes a seat on said bench’s right-hand side, as the someone is sitting directly over on the left.
At the moment, it is unknown (at least, to him) what the specific gender of this someone is. It would appear to be a woman, as she/he actually appears to have long dark hair — and glasses; that and the fact he/she appears to have his/her legs crossed.
On top of that, the dark-haired man decides to slowly scoot over. He cannot tell much from the naked eye, but he can tell that it is, in fact, a woman sitting beside him from a not too far length. How he is positive is because the woman, while sitting cross legged, has just now turned a device that she has on, making the light of it flash up against her feminine chin, as she appears to be holding (what looks to be) a cigarette between her lips. And it’s not until a moment later, when she immediately exhales a small cloud of smoke out of her mouth, that the dark-haired man scoots even further towards her. Without even hesitating, he then directly asks her, “How long have you been waiting?”
At first, the woman seems oblivious to his approach. But in less than seven seconds, she finally cocks her head. “Sorry?” The dark-haired man asks again, “How long have you been ... here?” The woman begins gawking. “Where?”
Yet again (this time, louder and more clear), the dark-haired man asks, “How long have you been sitting here?”
Thankfully, the woman now gets the hint. “Five minutes, maybe.” She then sticks the cigarette back into the tip of her mouth.
“Which one are you waiting for?”
A second or two later, the woman exhales again. This time, she comes off as more annoyed than she did not too long ago; at least, that’s how it seems. “Which one what?”
“What bus are you waiting for?”
“I’m not waiting for a bus,” she slowly specifies, seeming less annoyed than she did a moment ago, “I only came here to have a cig.”
Right then and there, the dark-haired man’s head begins to drop. “... Oh.”
The woman then stares at him. “What?”
He then hesitates to say another word, “Noth — I —” She briefly shrugs at him. “Do you have one coming?”
He then gawks. “One what?”
“Are you waiting for a bus?” she firmly clarifies.
The dark-haired man continues hesitating, “Technically, I was.”
The woman gawks. “And, for whatever reason, you had (or have) second thoughts?”
Hesitantly, he then shakes his head. “No.”
She quickly shrugs. “What is it then?”
“What is what?”
She then gives him a stern look, immediately before rolling her eyes, thinking — to herself ‘You cannot be serious.’
It then finally accres to him. “I don’t think it matters, does it?”
Right then and there, the woman rises up off from the bench and quickly stands. “’guess maybe not.” About 3-4 seconds later, she slips the device she’d been carrying into her jacket pocket and begins to go on her way. For no more than five seconds, the dark-haired man stares at her in confusion as she starts walking. It’s not until a mil-second that he finally stands up from the bench himself.
The following moment — you could probably guess what happens; if not, then — I may as well tell you anyway.
As the woman with glasses (not slowly, and not quickly either) continues walking away, the dark-haired man (thankfully) manages to catch up to her.
~ As soon as the elevator door opens, the woman quickly enters it. As such, she then waits for the dark-haired man to enter; despite having held the door for him, he appears to be somewhat reluctant to walk right into it himself.
“Is there a problem?” the woman asks him.
“No,” he belches out, sounding as if he is actually struggling. “I mean, not exactly.”
“I haven’t got all night,” she firmly speaks out, “alright?”
The dark-haired man, on the other hand (at least for a moment), still appears to be struggling.
“Just get in, don’t be a fucking pussy.”
That, surprisingly enough, is what gets him to finally get his ass inside.
Watching him do so (just before he sits right up against the wall beside her), the woman then murmurs, “Jesus.”
He, to which, continues to look right at her. “Thanks.”
She then looks at him. “For what.”
“You’ve quite a tongue.”
“What do you mean?”
“That mouth of yours is what I mean.”
“’the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean it as a compliment,” the dark-haired man clarifies, sounding like he is about to crack up.
“Oh,” the woman says with a light shrug. She looks right at him again, “Well then, thank you.”
The dark-haired man firmly nods, right before quietly spouting out, “Yeah.”
In less than four seconds, the elevator finally rises. Yeah, it took long enough for that to happen; a little too long, I must say.
But while that is going on, the dark-haired man has the opportunity to finally observe the woman — whom he is, of course, standing right next to. From what he can tell, her is, not only long (obviously), it appears to be black; literally, her hair is long, silky, and black. But that isn’t the only thing that the dark-haired man is noticing.
Besides her glasses, the woman also appears to be wearing a black jacket, blue jeans, and a black tank-top; the dark-haired man can tell it is one because it’s revealing quite a lot of the woman’s cleavage.
But on top of that, she then starts looking right at him, making him react in a bashful manner; despite this, it’s actually ambiguous on whether she noticed or not.
“I assume you’ve never been on an elevator before?”
“Um,” the dark-haired man responds hesitantly, “yeah, I ... rarely ... ever ... take them.”
“Well, in that case, I could probably say the same thing for — escalators.”
“Yeah,” he adds in agreement, though sounding quite modest about it.
Within 2-3 seconds later, the elevator door — finally opens. To which, the dark-haired man begins cocking his head, look and both the woman and the hallway in front of them. “After you?” he quickly offers, waving his right arm mildly.
The woman, on the other hand, shakes her head, with a slight visible grin. “No.”
The dark-haired man gawks. “No?”
She opens her mouth, firmly responding, “You first.”
With a mild shrug, he gives her a nod. “If you insist.” Right then and there, steps right out of the elevator and onto the carpet-floor, a lot faster than when he got into said elevator.
Funny enough, as the woman attempts to exit out herself, the elevator door nearly closes on her; not literally though. But thankfully enough, the dark-haired man is there to hold it open for her — again. She now steps out. “Thanks.”
He shrugs at her again. “No problem.”
Then, about 4-5 seconds later, the woman continues to walk, seemingly storming off.
This leads the dark-haired man to gawk once again. “Wait —”
But then, she turns around to look at him yet again. “This way.”
With a bit of relief, he then thinks to himself, “Oh.” Right on top of that, he takes her word and follows her — continually.