Bette clutched her purse as the bus beneath her vibrated.  Scanning her card through the reader, she stepped away from the driver and down the aisle.  She became a sloth as she made her way to the very back of the bus where one lone seat remained empty among the piercings, spiked hair and metal studded leather jackets.

The kids at the back hooped and hollered, each believing their random words and quips were humour to the level of Carlin or Foxworthy.

One of the boys, directly across from where Bette took her seat, smiled.  “Look what we have here.”

Bette tried not to stare.

He stood and held the chrome bars for balance as he stepped across the aisle with spiked hair nearly hitting the roof and his blue eyes glowing with his nearing prey. “Do I embarrass you, lady?” he asked and shoved his face well within Bette’s personal space.

Bette’s blue eyes briefly met his before returning to her own lap.  ”No,” she whispered her answer.

“Oh, really?”  His breath offered a beerful aroma that was nearly over powering.

The other kids, now all silent watched with amused stares.

”You think your life is normal, right?  Our shite offends you, right?”

She did not answer.  Bette reached back and checked the bun of brunette hair held at the back of her head.

“Com’on, lady.  Imagine the fucking I could give you.”  He grinned at her and was missing a few teeth…though the stud in his nose was almost as big as one of those missing teeth.

“You tell her, Grover!” one young woman said before her pierced tongue swept across her hooker red lips.

She now knew his name was Grover.

“I would fuck you blind, right here on this bus floor.  What’ya think of that?”

“Not much, Grover” Bette answered softer than a whisper.

He blinked.  The use of his name had caught him off guard.  Still bold, however, he continued, “What’s that, doll?  What the fuck did you just say?”

Bette pulled her red trench coat tighter around her and it fell open to show the black leather boots around her ankles and calves.

“Love the boots, doll.  Can I look?”

Tugging on her coat had shown more than she planned.  ”Fuck off,” she whispered with what she thought was only a little force.

The whispered words, however, had hissed across the entire bus leaving only the driver unaware of what exactly was going on.

The anger in Bette hit her eyes, her nostrils flared, and her inner bull showed its horns for just a moment.

Grover stopped, not the response he had been expecting and the words hit him like a fly swatter killing a mosquito.  He backed away and sat back in his seat.  ”Ummm…sorry, ma’am.”  He went silent.

A few chuckles from the front of the bus as everyone returned to pretending no one else existed.  The group in the back, however, were eerily silent and all eyes remained fastened on Bette.

She reached inside her coat and pulled out a business card.  Reaching across the aisle to Grover with the spiked hair, she had no idea of his hair colour, she tapped his knee to get his attention which was now fixated on his own lap.

His eyes, full of fear, glanced up.

She quietly said, “If you ever want me to teach you how to treat a lady properly, you call me.”  She handed him the card.

His mouth moved, at first, with no sound.  Finally he found words, “You’re joking, right?”  He glanced down at the card and one last word escaped his lips, “Mistress?”

Bette stood and pulled the cord to announce her stop.  She stepped to the back door of the bus and pushed the door bar open as soon as it stopped.

She entered the apartment and found Jim already stripped down to his boxers.  ”On your knees, mister.”

He did as instructed.  ”Mistress, might I ask what I have done?”

“First, lose the boxers.”  Bette laughed as she pulled her coat off.  Beneath it, she wore a black leather corset, shorts, and boots that came up to mid-thigh.  ”You have done nothing.  But you will pay for the disrespect that one of your gender has treated me with.”  She pulled a table tennis paddle from her tiny purse.

Jim smiled, pulled his boxers down to his knees and leaned forward on the bed, exposing his ass for her paddle.  ”Thank you, mistress.”

“Perhaps doing nothing is enough to be punished for.”

“Thank you, mistress.”

“Normal life, my ass,” she whispered before the first blow.

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