Mating Rituals of the Lesser Spotted Geek

People who travel on buses are creatures of habit and one is no exception; in the front cuts down on the motion sickness while the back, because of the elevated layout, gives you a better view of your fellow passengers. Some mornings you have to make a choice others... some bastard has made it for you.  Either way travelling on a bus gives you an interesting view of the world and the people in it. It also makes you notice the aberrant behaviours of others.

First she got on and what caught ones attention was not that she was wrangling three backpacks, an ambitious undertaking on public transport, but her hair. It was long, curly and the most wonderful shade of blonde. It was also just dirty enough that the natural oils, something curls don’t usually have a wealth of in this climate, had started to turn it into a slightly ropey textured so that it looked like spun gold chords. In the light of the window she sat in front of, you could see the wonderful colours that some freakish combination of genes had conspired to produce, and that hairdressers struggle to emulate. She was rather pretty, very pale, spectacled and dripping technology that confirmed the geek status that the pallor had hinted at.

He got on a couple of stops later, a regular who travels on the back of the bus because it offers more room for the skate board, the laptop and assorted geeky accoutrement. Boarding the bus he marched past her, shot a look in her direction, started to move to his regular seat and stopped dead with one foot raised. He put it down hurriedly and backtracked to take the seat opposite her, planting the skateboard in the gap next to him and surreptitiously shooting her a glance. She studiously ignored him and glanced out the window.

Not put off by this lack of response he crossed his legs flashing his skate shoes, ankles and crotch in the same movement. No response came his way. Undaunted he shot the cuffs of his immaculately ironed business shirt a little higher to expose a brightly coloured tat. She looked further to the right of him. Unrelenting in the face of this much failure he struck several different poses, all of them aimed at showing himself in the best possible light.

Now from the back of the bus one noticed a couple of things about him that had passed one by. He is fastidiously groomed from the top of his shaved head, to the sharp crease in his trousers and how he manages this on a skate board gives one pause. But then one can get creases in clothes walking out a door so... As a bloke he is shorter than average and while many short men are disproportionate... legs too short, torso too long... he is perfectly proportioned. This brought one to the hands that were now propping up his dejected head.

They were the most dainty, small boned, white hands one has ever seen on a man. And while this may have been an indicator as to the reason for her lack of interest in his mating displays, the thought did cross one’s mind that if you were ever going to try that whole double penetration  thing... those were the hands you wanted. What a pity they are probably never going to get put to that use.