Chapter 1: The Last Bus

The rain came down in relentless sheets, drumming hard against the bus roof like impatient fingers. Each drop that hit the windows fractured the streetlights into shimmering streaks of red, gold, and green—leftover holiday colors bleeding across the glass. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of wet wool, vinyl seats warmed by the heater, and the faint metallic tang of city rain.

Debra stepped aboard with a shiver, water cascading from her dark curls and dripping down the back of her neck. The post-holiday work party had been a slow torture: forced laughter over watered-down eggnog, colleagues’ eyes lingering too long on her body, men who thought a “you look great in that dress” gave them license to stare at her chest. She’d left as soon as politeness allowed, craving silence and the comfort of her own space.

She was a big woman, and she owned every inch of it. Wide hips that brushed the seats as she moved down the aisle. Heavy breasts that shifted with each step, straining the deep green wrap dress now plastered to her skin. A soft, generous belly that pressed warmly against the soaked fabric, and thick thighs that rubbed together with a familiar, secret friction beneath the hem. The rain had turned the dress nearly sheer in places; she could feel the cool air kissing the damp skin between her breasts, along the curve of her waist, the backs of her knees. She felt exposed, powerful, alive.

She chose a seat near the very back, dropped her sodden bag onto the floor with a wet thud, and let her thighs spread just enough to ease the ache from hours in heels. The heater blew warm air across her wet ankles, raising goosebumps that prickled all the way up her calves. She exhaled, watching her breath fog briefly in the chill before the warmth swallowed it.