bus boy pt. 1

i met him on the bus (duh, right?)

there i was, squished between two large brown and round masses, sweating like a hairy crack in a pair of tighty whities. i was miserable. the bodies of the hefty folk bookending me were clinging to me closer than my own damn clothes, as if i was some extra appendage on them, perhaps a third nipple on the sista to my left and an extra ingrown hair in the pubic space on the brotha to my right. it was an august day in atlanta, the air so thick with humidity i was sure each molecule of oxygen was pregnant with at least a pound of water. with every inhalation i was somehow sniffing the contents of everyone's intestines, from the collard greens and black-eyed peas the shriveled lady across from me had eaten the previous day, to the double-cheeseburger value meal upsized to include a large fry and a dr. pep.per i'm sure someone in the immediate vicinity had eaten within the last hour. the smell was so rancid i could actually feel my nose trying to curl into itself like a snail seeking protection in its shell.

i wanted to get up and try my luck with standing, but i wasn't sure i could extricate myself from the human bun i was currently trapped in. recognizing the fruitlessness of my desires, i pushed myself as far into my seat as i could and leaned my head back against the glass, closing my eyes and counting the minutes until i reached my stop. i'd been sitting there for what felt like hours when my nose was flooded with the smell of sweaty balls layered with the not-so-effective deoderizer of baby powder. i opened my eyes and my vision was crowded by a crotch blanketed in a pair of jeans. it was then i realized just how intimate the bus forces folk to be. there are precious few places in public a sista will find herself that close to a brotha's crotch. on the train and on the bus...the only two times i can think of when i can find my face pressed into a brotha's crotch and folk ain't disgusted by it.

i glanced up to see whose crotch i was staring at and was taken aback by how attractive he was. evidently his daddy was wil.ly won.ka, cuz this cat was a walking confection. golden brown skin smooth like he'd been recently dipped in a vat of caramel, with eyes of chocolate drops reminiscent of her.shey kisses. i wondered absently if the taste of him would leave me feeling cheated, like a bite into an eas.ter treat absent of filling. i mean, he looked solid enough, meaty where it mattered, but as i looked down at his crotch again, i was struck by the lack of a protruding bulge there. on the one hand, i would hope he wasn't walking around with a hard on, but i figure a brotha should be showing something down there, even if his penis is slumbering, you know?

i don't really have an aversion to sweaty balls, so the smell wasn't putting me off. however, i chuckled inwardly at the baby powder thing. to me, it's kinda like farting and spraying some rose smelling air freshener in its wake. one smell don't necessarily negate the other. in the case of the baby powder, it just accentuated the smell of sweat. a smirk unfurled from my lips.

"so what's the joke?"

the voice was coming from above my head. i looked up and realized the guy attached to the powdered balls had spoken. do i tell him his attempt at masking the scent of his perspiring balls had been unsuccessful? do i tell him the smell of his crotch reminded me of a sweet and sour asian dish? do i tell him i'd tasted baby powder before and it left a bad aftertaste?

"i was remembering something a friend of mine told me..." i trailed off as a knowing grin trickled onto his face. it was obvious he saw right through my lie, but i wasn't sure if he saw right through to my truth. shit, i wasn't about to tell him what i was really thinking.

"so you're not gonna tell me what put that smile on your face then, huh?" he lifted an eyebrow like he was entitled and shit. okay, so i was seeing a bit of arrogance on him, which if worn on the right brotha is sexy, kinda like a pair of speedos...but very few brothas can pull that look off.

"well, i figure i have a right to keep my thought to myself," i answered, my response flavored ever so slightly with a pinch of sarcasm. his eyes narrowed on me, but i detected a twinkle in them, as though they were laughing and his eye lids were closing to trap the mirth there.

he leaned down so that our conversation could get some privacy, cuz you know the folk around us had their ears pressed up to every word of it.

"i've got a five dollar bill in my pocket," he whispered, "you think i have enough to pay for your thought?"

i contemplated that a moment. where was this conversation headed anyway? he was definitely attractive enough, but that whole baby powder on the balls thing had me kinda leery to fuck with this dude. if we started dating and i ended up with his dick in my mouth, would i be scraping that shit off of my tongue? would i have a gritty film on my teeth for weeks afterwards? serious questions to contemplate, cuz if i continued talking to this cat, numbers would no doubt be exchanged.

in the end, that shallow part of me that was thanking will.y won.ka for this delicious chocolate treat standing before me won out.

"you know, i don't think five dollars is enough to cover the price of a happy meal," i answered mischievously, "let alone pay for my damn near priceless thought."

he dug into his pocket and pulled out what looked to be a five dollar bill and some other odds and ends.

"aiight, i've got a five dollar bill, some girl's phone number on paper you can use for scrap, and a piece of peppermint candy," he announced, "is that enough?"

"hol up...," i responded with faux indignation, "you trying to pass off some chick's phone number to me? what are you, her pimp?"

he laughed, as did the two people still pinching me tightly between them like asscheeks gripping a quarter.

"if i write my number on the other side will that make it a better offering?"

aiight, let's run down the pros and cons, shall we?

pros: he's confident with a sense of humor almost as dry as mine. he looks decent in a pair of jeans and he's eye candy and i've got a weakness for sweets.

cons: that arrogance might just be reined in for the moment, which means i'll be smacked in the mouth with the full load of it once he gets comfortable, which then means the banter i find witty now can turn into a straight up "no that nigga didn't say that shit" moment later. that, and the powdered balls...

oh, and his penis had yet to make an appearance in his crotch...
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DAMN YOU WILL.Y WON.KA!

"give me your number and we'll see what we can work out..."

stay tuned for the next episode of 'nikki don't have shit else to write about...'