A Cold Embrace

The Bus ride.

"Hey... Wake up..." she whispered as the sunlight streamed down onto my closed eyelids, its warmth gently waking me. Suddenly, a shadow cast over my face as soft, creamy lips pressed against mine. Her silky hands brushed through the hair on my chest before sliding up to grasp my stone-hard shoulders, then tracing the curve of my face. As I opened my eyes, they met hers—brown, deep, and gorgeous.
The air was filled with the scent of tea tree oil and shea butter, mixed with the lingering perfume from last night and a hint of her musk. "...Good morning..." she whispered sweetly before kissing me again. My hands traced over her smooth ebony skin, gliding down her back before finding her thick, round bottom. I squeezed, my fingers sinking into her plump flesh. Unable to resist, I gave her a playful smack, then grabbed it firmly. She giggled with delight, and we locked eyes again... Adelaide. My wife.
"Good morning..." I groaned, inhaling deeply as the rich smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the room. "It's just brewing..." she said, standing up. Her nightgown flowed behind her as she walked out of the bedroom. I sat up, yawning, still nude under the sheets, while the light from the window bathed the room in a soft glow. The counter was cluttered with martini glasses, empty beer bottles, and an ashtray filled with roaches.
That's right, last night was her birthday. No night out, no visitors—just me and her, keeping each other company and staying busy in all the right ways.

She returned, holding a large cup of coffee, her nightgown slipping to reveal her petite figure. Smiling, she handed me the cup and crawled back into bed beside me. I took a long sip, then set the cup on the bedside table as she pressed herself against me under the covers. She slipped off her nightgown, her small, naked form warm against mine. I gripped her cheeks again, locking eyes with her and smiling. She smiled back, giving me that familiar gaze that always melted me. We kissed deeply before she climbed on top of me.
"...I love you..." she whispered.
"...I love you too..." I whispered back between our kisses, pulling her closer by her thighs. Then entered her, feeling the warmth of her as we embraced each other once again.

A loud honk pierced through the cold, wet glass. My eyes opened as the snow-covered road blurred past outside.
It was only a dream. Or maybe just reliving a memory, a good one... again.
Recently, these moments feel so real, especially when I least expect them.
I glanced up from my seat to see the bus driver, his face scrunched in irritation, looking like a bulldog. The passengers around me sat quietly, minding their own business.
God, how long has it been? These bus rides take a toll on you, especially when you can't even enjoy a good cigarette in peace.

The driver's microphone screeched as he turned it on. "Ugh..." he groaned, clearing his throat. "We're making a pit stop in Ohio. If you're headed to Indianapolis, this is your last stop before the destination. Thirty minutes—no more, no less. I will leave you behind." He slammed the mic back into place, prompting the passengers to grumble in response. He'd been like this the entire ride, and I wondered, what crawled up this guy's ass?

I stood in the biting cold outside the bus, one hand buried in my jean jacket pocket, the other clutching a cigarette. I shifted from side to side, trying in vain to keep warm.
The bus driver waddled out of the food court, clutching a large fast-food bag in one hand and a super-sized drink in the other. He descended the steps slowly, his eyes locking onto me like a hawk spotting its prey.
"Hey!" he barked, waddling toward me aggressively, his keys jangling from his belt. "What did I say about smoking too close to the bus!?"
The streets of New York surged up from within me, a force long suppressed.
"Aye, who the fuck you think you're talking to like that?!" I snapped, jabbing my cigarette-holding finger toward him. He wasn't expecting that, judging by how his eyes widened in the creases of his fat face. I stepped toward him, taking a puff before flicking the cigarette into the snow.
"Since I got on this fuckin' bus, you've been giving people shit over and over, and no one says a damn thing. They're all just minding their own business, but you, a grown-ass man, are bitching and moaning about everything. Jesus fuckin' Christ, if this job makes you that miserable, where you gotta treat people like punching bags, why even do it?"