The Bunny and the Wolf
Copyright© 2026 by Dragonpig
Chapter 10
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 10 - An older wolf meets a younger bunny during a bus trip. An unexpected encounter sparks the beginning of a new relationship.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Teenagers Consensual Romantic BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Mystery Science Fiction Furry Magic Incest Father Daughter Uncle Niece Anal Sex Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Pregnancy Clergy Teacher/Student Prostitution
30 minutes to 35 minutes
Rico sat hunched over his desk, the glow of his holo-computer’s floating screen casting sharp shadows across his face. The flat rectangular device projecting the display hummed quietly on his cluttered desk, surrounded by empty energy drink cans and takeout containers. He’d been sorting through hundreds of photos for hours, but now his attention was laser-focused on a folder labeled “VSMLHotel.”
The image floating before him could change everything. Vivian Stoneclaw, socialite and wife of industrialist Bartholomew Stoneclaw, leaving the Silver Paw Hotel with pastor Moses Lightfur’s arm wrapped around her waist. Rico zoomed in on their faces – the three-dimensional image was crystal clear, and there was no doubt about their identities. His hands trembled slightly as he considered the possibilities. This wasn’t just another potential celebrity scandal; this was his ticket out of this cramped apartment, out of being the family’s disappointment. I could sell this image to the tabloids and probably make a nice piece of credit. But Bartholomew he’s worth billions I’m pretty sure he would pay me much more to ensure this Holo Pic disappears.
“So, straight to Bartholomew,” he muttered, pulling up the contact information for Stoneclaw Industries on his holo-display. His finger hovered over the call icon for a moment before he pressed it. Each ring made his heart beat faster until finally a crisp, professional, feminine voice answered. “Stoneclaw Industries, how may I direct your call?”
Rico cleared his throat. “I need to speak with Mr. Stoneclaw. It’s regarding a personal matter of extreme importance.” He tried to keep his voice steady, and professional.
“I’m afraid Mr. Stoneclaw is extremely busy. Perhaps you could tell me the nature of your business?” The secretary’s tone carried the practiced patience of someone who filtered out dozens of unwanted calls daily.
“It’s about his wife,” Rico said carefully. “Something he needs to see personally. Something ... sensitive.”
He heard the slight change in her voice, the hint of dismissal. “I see. And your name is?” Rico provided his information, knowing from her tone that it would probably end up in the digital trash. “We’ll be in touch if Mr. Stoneclaw is interested,” she concluded, ending the call before he could protest.
The ferret slumped back in his chair, running his hands through his disheveled fur. Fine. Plan B. He pulled up Stoneclaw’s public email address on the holo-web, composing a message that was vague enough to avoid legal issues but clear enough to pique interest. After sending it, he stared at the confirmation screen, already doubting whether anyone would even read it.
“No,” he said firmly, pushing back from his desk. He wouldn’t leave this to chance. He knew Stoneclaw’s habits – the restaurants he frequented, the clubs where he held business meetings. The industrialist was a creature of routine, and Rico had made it his business to know those routines. He could stake out the Golden Cheetah restaurant where Stoneclaw often had dinner meetings. Get to him directly.
Rico started gathering his camera gear and checking that the photo was securely backed up on multiple devices. He felt the familiar surge of determination that had gotten him this far in his career. He wasn’t the family failure anymore – not like Felicia. This was his chance to prove it to everyone.
As he headed for his bedroom door, Rico paused to check his reflection in the smudged mirror. He straightened the straps of his leather harness. Trying to look more like a professional photographer and less like someone who’d been holed up in his room for hours. The sound of movement from the living room made his ears twitch – Felicia was out there, probably high again.
The living room swims in and out of focus as Felicia lies sprawled across the threadbare sofa, her body still tingling from the comedown. Through half-lidded eyes, she watches Rico’s silhouette materialize in the doorway. His presence sends an immediate wave of guilt through her clouded mind—guilt she quickly pushes aside.
“Wake up,” Rico’s voice cuts through her haze. “I’m heading out.”
“Where are you going?” The words scratch against her dry throat. She needs water, but more than that, she needs another hit. Everything aches.
“I’m Going to make this family some money.” His voice holds no warmth. “Someone has to pay the bills around here since you’re definitely not doing it.”
The words sting, but not as much as the growing emptiness in her system. Felicia forces herself to sit up, fighting the dizziness. “Stop being so mean to me,” she wines! Her fingers unconsciously begin pulling at the fur on her arms, going through the familiar motions of withdrawal. “Hey ... do you have any money?”
“No, sis.” Rico’s voice hardens. “I’m not funding your habit anymore. Get a job.” His lips curl into a cruel smirk. “Maybe go back to your old line of work. Jock and his girlfriend Delia next door—I’m pretty sure they would give you a couple of credits to suck dick and eat some pussy. There always looking for content to put on their holo-fans.”
The suggestion makes her cheeks burn with shame. Her brother will never let her forget the time he arrived at their apartment. Finding her on her knees, performing oral sex on the next-door couple to get enough money for her next fix. “Come on, brother,” she pleads, playing the last card she has. “I’m your twin sister. How can you talk to me like that?”
“Because someone needs to
“I’ll be back,” the freelance photographer announces, making his way out of the apartment.
Felicia’s eyes dart around the room, desperate for a hit. On the coffee table, the empty baggie catches her eye. That cursed sparkly residue clinging to its corners. Her trembling fingers scrape along the inside, bringing the minute particles to her tongue. It’s not enough. Nowhere near enough.
Her brother’s room calls to her like it always does. She knows she shouldn’t go in there. Rico’s caught her before, he had yelled at her and threatened to kick her out. But the need pulses stronger than any loyalty or shame.
Felicia rose from the sagging sofa, brushing her tangled hair out of her face as she headed toward Rico’s room. Pushing the door open, she stepped inside and let her eyes adjust to the dim light filtering through half-closed blinds. The room was its usual mess—camera equipment scattered across the desk, rows of empty drink cans, and clothes tossed haphazardly on the bed and floor.
Her gaze flicked to the usual hiding spots. He had to have something stashed around here. She moved to the dresser, yanking open drawers and rummaging through them. Socks, a tangle of HSB cables, a half-empty box of condoms—nothing useful. She shoved the drawer shut, her frustration building.
Kneeling, she reached under the mattress. Her fingers brushed against something slick and smooth. She pulled it out and blinked, momentarily caught off guard. A magazine. “Ass Assassins!” The cover featured a shapely female weasel posed on her knees and elbows, her tail raised high and her large round butt being fucked. as a muscular bear loomed behind her, his hands gripping her waist. The explicit positioning left nothing to the imagination.
Felicia grimaced and tossed the magazine aside like it had burned her. “Seriously, Rico? Freaking disgusting.” If he was into that kind of thing, he could have asked her. For some money, She would have given him the real thing. Shaking her head, she stood and dusted her hands off on her furry hips. She wasn’t here to sort through his filthy secrets.
Her attention shifted to his computer across the room. If the cash wasn’t hidden in the usual spots, maybe she could find something there.
Rico’s gotten smarter, hiding anything valuable. But his computer... the screen still on. Her old intelligence, the parts of her mind not yet consumed by addiction, sparks to life at the sight of the image displayed: Vivian Stoneclaw and Moses Lightfur in a compromising position.
Even through withdrawal’s fog, she recognizes the value of what she’s seeing. Tabloids would pay for this – pay enough for several hits. Her hands shake as she retrieves a holo-cube from Rico’s desk drawer, pressing it against the computer’s transfer port.
Guilt flickers as data streams between devices, but her mind’s already calculating where to sell it, how much she might get, and which dealer she’ll visit first. Rico can still sell his copy, she rationalizes. He’ll never know. I just need enough for one fix. Maybe two.
The holo-cube flashes and beeps. Indicating that the data has been transferred. Now holding the answer to her relief. The part of her that remembers being the family’s golden child tries to protest, but that voice grows weaker every day, drowned out by the sparkly powder’s promises.
Jane
The room was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. I sat on the sofa, hands clasped tightly in my lap, staring at the door. Ruth had told me she wanted to meet and said she had something important to discuss. Naturally, I assumed it was about Moses Lightfur, about taking him down once and for all. My mind buzzed with anticipation.
This time, it had to work. Moses couldn’t keep hiding behind his sermons and that carefully polished image. Ruth and I had already seen through the façade. She was the one person who could bring him down, and I’d do whatever it took to help her do it. My tail twitched against the cushion as I glanced at the clock, counting the seconds. I just couldn’t stop myself from worrying, from needing this meeting to go right.
The knock came sharp and precise. My ears twitched, and I rose quickly, smoothing down my fur as I moved to open the door. There she was—Ruth Lightfur, her reddish fur catching the light in a way that made her look wonderful and sexy. She stepped inside, her amber eyes meeting mine with that usual confidence, her lips curling into a faint, knowing smile.
“Jane,” she greeted me warmly, her voice smooth and deliberate. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”
I shook my head quickly. “Not at all. Come in. Have a seat,” I said, gesturing to the sofa where I’d been sitting. She moved past me with that effortless grace, her presence filling the small living room. As she sat down, crossing her legs, she turned to look at me, her expression unreadable.
I returned to my seat beside her, my anticipation mounting. “So,” I began, trying to keep my tone light, “what’s the plan? Do we finally have something solid on him?”
To my surprise, Ruth hesitated, her ears flicking slightly as she glanced down at her hands. “Jane,” she said softly, her voice carrying a weight that made my stomach drop, “I think ... we need to hold off on going after Moses. For now.”
Her words hit me like a punch. “What?” I said, blinking at her. “Hold off? Why?”
Ruth exhaled slowly, her fingers toying with the strap of her harness. “He came to see me last night. We talked.”
“Talked?” I repeated, suspicion creeping into my tone.
Her gaze finally met mine, steady but filled with something I couldn’t quite read. “He apologized,” she said, her voice quiet, almost hesitant. “For everything—for humiliating me in church, for the way he’s treated me. He said he wants to make amends.”
I stared at her, my mind racing. “And you believe him?”
She hesitated again before replying. “I want to,” she admitted, her voice soft. “I want to believe he can change.” She looked down, her hands fidgeting now. “We ... ended up in bed together.”
The confession landed heavily between us, the words pulling the air from the room. My breath caught, and I struggled to form a response. “You slept with him?” I finally managed, my voice sharper than I intended.
Ruth flinched slightly but held her ground. “It’s not like that,” she said, her tone almost pleading. “It’s complicated, Jane. I just ... I think he’s trying.”
Anger and jealousy bubbled in my chest, not just at her but at myself. On the way, my heart started to quicken when she looked at me, the way her voice was smoothing over my doubts even now.
I crossed my arms, leaning back as I tried to process what she was saying. “He’s using you, Ruth,” I said flatly. “Again. You know that, right?”
She leaned toward me, her amber eyes soft but intense. “Jane,” she murmured, her voice almost a whisper. “I need you to trust me on this.” Her hand brushed against mine, lingering just long enough to send a shiver up my arm.
I pulled my hand away, but the warmth of her touch stayed with me. “I don’t know if I can,” I said quietly, my resolve wavering under the weight of her gaze.
Ruth leaned closer, her fingers trailing lightly down my arm. “Let me show you, that you can still trust me,” she said softly. Her tone is like velvet. Before I could respond, she pressed her lips to mine.
The kiss was warm, deliberate, and impossible to resist. For a moment, I forgot everything—Moses, our plans, even my jealousy. All that mattered was the way she made me feel, the fire her touch ignited in me. When she pulled away, her lips curved into a small, seductive smile.
Ruth’s fingers lingered on my breast as she spoke again, her voice gentle but firm. “We’re in this together, Jane. I need you to trust me.”
I stared at her, my heart pounding as my emotions swirled in a chaotic mess. Anger, desire, doubt—they all fought for dominance, leaving me unable to speak.
She stood, smoothing her fur as if nothing had happened. “Think about it,” she said lightly, as though she hadn’t just unraveled me with a single kiss and touch. “I’ll call you later. Let’s wait and see if Moses actually confesses to the congregation about me and his relationship. Just trust me—we’re still in this together, Jane.”
The door closed softly behind her, and I was left alone, the room suddenly feeling too quiet, too empty. I sank back onto the sofa, still feeling the warm touch of her hand on my breast.
Moses
The air was crisp as I stepped out of my car, my boots crunching against the grass. The cemetery always felt colder than the rest of the world, even when the sun peeked through the clouds. It was noon, and the dim, gray light felt fitting. I’d come a second time this year, earlier than usual.
I have just arrived from our daughter’s bed. In my hand, I carried the usual bouquet of red and black flowers—the ones you always liked, Naomi. They felt heavy. My chest tightened as I approached your grave. “Naomi Lightfur” was etched on the stone, the words “Beloved Wife and Mother” beneath it. A title I had sullied in more ways than one.
I set the flowers down gently, my hands trembling. There it was, my wife’s hologram, as beautiful and serene as the day I’d met you. Your image was lifelike, down to the soft curls of your fur and the warmth in your eyes. You didn’t speak, of course; this wasn’t you, just a memory given shape. But your gaze felt like it could see straight through me, just as you always had, Naomi.
“I don’t know where to start,” I said, my voice cracking. “But you probably already knew that.”
The hologram remained silent, your head tilted slightly, as though inviting me to continue. I ran a hand through my graying fur and let out a shaky breath.
“It’s Ruth,” I began, our daughter’s name tasting bitter and sweet on my tongue. “She wants me to ... to make things public. To stand in front of the congregation and tell them the truth. About us. About her.” My jaw tightened as I glanced away, unable to meet your gaze even if it was just an image. “I don’t know if I can do that, Naomi. They’d cast me out in a heartbeat. And maybe they should.”
I knelt down, resting on my knees before your grave. The dampness of the ground seeped through my trousers, but I didn’t care. “The church has been my life for decades. You know that. But now ... now I’ve gone and made a mess of everything. Ruth’s not just any woman. She’s our daughter. And I can’t pretend it was some fleeting sin. It wasn’t. It isn’t. It never had been.”
My throat tightened, but I pushed forward. “And then there’s Vivian. Stoneclaw. I...” My hands balled into fists, trembling. “She’s different. Nothing like you. But I’ve let her in, too. God help me, I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”
Your hologram stood solemnly, nonjudgmental, but its serene expression didn’t solve my dilemma. It felt like judgment in its gentlest form, and it crushed me.
I closed my eyes, and the memories surged forward unbidden. Ruth’s words echoed in my mind.
It had become a normal routine between us, late at night. She had come to me, seeking solace—or maybe something else entirely. The room had been cloaked in shadow, the only light coming from the flickering fire. Her eyes held a mixture of want and vulnerability that I couldn’t ignore.
“Daddy, what are you doing?” she asked as she walked around my desk and sat on my knee, cuddling close.
“I’m just finishing up some paperwork about the church, nothing special. What’s up? What can I do for you?”
This was our little game, the one we always played. It was her way of asking for intimacy, as she was still too shy to ask outright. But I knew the signals. She looked up into my face and pressed herself closer, her body language speaking louder than words. As she began asking me questions about my day and telling me about hers, I started the familiar routine we had grown used to through the years.
My hand traveled along her thigh to the space between her spread legs. I began to touch her gently, the way I knew she always enjoyed. She was already moist and eager. That was one thing about our little Ruth—she had always had a healthy sex drive.
As our conversation continued, my fingers worked to bring her closer to fulfillment. The room grew silent except for the sound of her heavy breathing and the soft, wet sounds of my fingers exploring her. It didn’t take long—it never did with Ruth. With a cute little whimper of pleasure that I still, to this day, enjoy hearing, she found her release.
I smiled gently down at her as she rested her head against my chest, a beatific smile on her young face. I expected her usual response: sitting in my lap for a while before going to our bed. But this time, she didn’t.
“Daddy, I have a question,” she said hesitantly. “Do you not like me?”
Her words confused me. “What do you mean? Of course, I like you. I love you, Ruth.”
“Then why don’t you ever do it the way other people do? You never want to, you know, go in me. Am I ugly?” she asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.
Wanting to understand where this was coming from, I asked gently, “Why are you saying this, Ruth?”
“Well, when I talk to my girlfriends at school, we talk about boys. They said when a boy really likes a girl, he puts, you know, his thing inside her. But you never do that to me. I’m not saying I don’t like what we do—I like it a lot. But I love you, and if you want to do it that way, I mean, I don’t mind. I just want to show you how much I love you.”
Her innocent request was a defining moment between us. I had made a promise to you, Naomi. Not to get our daughter pregnant, yet the confusion on her face tugged at me. I had to do something. Making the best choice I could, I stood up and guided her to our bed, to introduce her to another form of intimacy.
Taking her hand in mine. “Come with me,” I said, my voice calm but steady. She followed without hesitation as I led her to the bed, her steps slow and deliberate, like a child testing the depth of a puddle.
Sitting her down on the edge of our bed, I knelt before her, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “This is about us, Ruth,” I said, looking into her eyes. “It doesn’t have to be perfect the first time. I’ll take care of you.”
I walked over to the side drawer where I kept the bottle of lubricant that I use when I masturbate her. The light shone across her face, revealing both her nerves and her eagerness. As I sat beside her, I ran my hands gently along her arms, letting her grow accustomed to my touch.
“You’re nervous,” I observed with a soft smile.
She nodded. “A little ... I just don’t know what to expect.”
I leaned closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “That’s okay. Let me guide you.”
Slowly, I helped her lie back, her body, trusting beneath my hands. Her breath hitched as I trailed my fingers down her sides and back, taking my time. She jumped with surprise when I began to knead her buttocks, her uncertainty showing in the way her fingers gripped the blanket beneath her.
“Ruth relax, raise your tail. I’m not going to hurt you.” With my fingers already coded in the lubricant. I spread apart her petite butt cheeks and began to anoint her cute little anus.
“Daddy, I thought you were going to put it in the other way, you’re touching me back there, isn’t that like dirty?”
“Baby, nothing we do is dirty. I’m going to show you that this part of your body can feel good too so, do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “It feels ... strange,” she admitted her voice a mix of embarrassment and curiosity.
“That’s normal,” I assured her. “It’s new for you. But I promise, it’ll feel good.”
As I continued, I paid attention closely to her body’s reactions. Ensuring she wasn’t in discomfort. Her nervousness began to fade, replaced by tentative curiosity. When she finally relaxed, her breaths growing slower and deeper, I allowed myself to ease a finger one by one into her trusting backside. Until I had three comfortably in her.
“Okay, baby, I’m going to put my penis in you now,” I assuredly said to her.
“I’ll do it slowly, but let me know if it gets uncomfortable, and I’ll stop.”
“Okay, Daddy!”
With gentle pressure upon her slicken anus. I pressed into her. As if we were made for each other with a minimum amount of effort she relaxed and I slid halfway in her without any protest from her. Ruth actually gave a little groan of pleasure and pushed back eagerly into me. As if she was saying in her own way. Daddy, I trust you.
“Better?” I asked, my voice low.
She hesitated, then nodded. “It’s ... nice. Different, but nice.”
Her awkwardness melted further as I guided our bodies onto our sides with care. Her soft gasps and hesitant movements became more confident, and the corners of her mouth lifted in a small, surprised smile. “I didn’t think it would feel like this Daddy,” she murmured.
“I’m glad you like it. You’re so beautiful when you trust me, Ruth,” I said, stroking her clitoris to the rhythm of my thrusts into her. Her ears flushed with arousal. To my pleasant surprise, I felt her rectum clinch and then she orgasmed. When it was over, she wrapped her tail around my upper thigh.
She pressed back into my chest, her breathing still uneven. I held her close, stroking her mons as she lay in my arms.
“I feel ... good,” she admitted quietly, almost as if confessing a secret.
“I’m glad,” I replied, pressing a kiss to her hair. “This is about us, Ruth. It’s always about what makes you happy.”
She tilted her head up to meet my eyes. “Daddy, I love you!”
I shook my head violently, forcing myself back to the present. My hands gripped the earth beside the grave, the cold seeping into my bones. “I’m a coward,” I muttered. “I’ve betrayed you. And I’ve betrayed myself.”
The silence stretched on, broken only by the faint rustling of the wind through the trees. Finally, I rose, my knees aching from the damp ground. I stared at your grave, at the hologram that had become my silent confessor. “I’ll figure it out,” I said, though the words felt hollow. “I have to.”
As I walked away, the hologram switched off, leaving only the stillness of the cemetery. I made my way down the grassy path and walked back to my car, each step heavier than the last. When I slid into the driver’s seat, I let out a long breath and started the engine.
The HoloVision display flickered to life on the dashboard, and the familiar jingle of The 1200 Club filled the car. A deep voice began reciting the day’s religious headlines, but I barely listened. My thoughts were elsewhere—on Ruth, on Vivian, on my choice.
Ruth paced back and forth across the cramped hotel room, her energy filling the space as she spoke. Her tail swished behind her, betraying her excitement. Lily sat on the loveseat beside Max, arms folded and legs tucked beneath her, watching Ruth with a mixture of curiosity and unease. “He came over last night,” Ruth said, her voice brimming with hope. “My father apologized. He admitted he was jealous of Claude—of everything. Can you believe it?” She paused mid-step, glancing at them as if seeking validation. “I think he really wants to change this time.”
Lily’s brows knitted together as Ruth continued, her words spilling out in a rush. “I asked him to go to the congregation and tell them about us—about me and him. He didn’t say no! I think he might actually do it. I mean, can you imagine? Moses Lightfur, standing in front of the whole church, admitting what he did and taking responsibility and being honest about who he truly is?” Ruth’s voice wavered between excitement and hope.
Lily glanced at Max, hoping he might say something first, but he stayed quiet, his expression calm and unreadable. Typical Max. In the short time she had known him, she had noticed that he always let people figure things out for themselves, even when he clearly had his doubts. Lily, on the other hand, struggled to hold her tongue. Moses reminded her too much of her own father—a man who could weave lies so smoothly they felt like truth. Ruth couldn’t see it, or maybe she just didn’t want to, but to Lily, Moses was a manipulator through and through.
“I hope you’re right,” Lily said, her tone sharper than she intended. “But you really think he’ll do it? Tell the whole congregation? This is Moses Lightfur we’re talking about.” Ruth’s ears flicked back.
“I hope he will,” Ruth said firmly, though Lily noticed the slight hesitation in her voice.
“If you’re sure about this, then you’re making the right choice as you see it Ruth,” Max said finally, his deep voice steady. Lily glanced at him, frustrated by his measured response, but knowing it came from a place of wisdom. He wouldn’t push Ruth—not when it wouldn’t change her mind. Lily sighed, leaning forward slightly. “Just be careful, Ruth. I want this to work out for you, I really do. But ... don’t let him pull you back in if he’s not serious.” Ruth gave a small, grateful smile, but Lily couldn’t shake the knot of worry in her stomach. It was hard for a manipulator to give up manipulating. Moses Lightfur was a manipulator, and Lily had seen this kind of story before.
After Ruth left, Max stood up slowly. “I think our work here is done, Lily,” he said, looking at her with warm eyes. “Ruth seems to have found her path.” Lily nodded. Though they both felt a nagging concern about Ruth’s situation, they knew it wasn’t their place to interfere further.
“So, bunny girl, do you want to go see if we can get back on the bus? Maybe we’ve done what we’re supposed to do in this universe?”
“Why not? We have nothing else to do. Let’s go for it, Max.”
The decision to leave felt right, even if something in the air seemed to whisper otherwise.
Lily tapped her tablet, her pink fingernails clicking against the screen as she called for a taxi. The app showed the confirmation quickly. “It’ll be here in five minutes,” she told Max, her tone confident. She leaned back in her seat, watching the blinking icon of the taxi on the screen. The little car symbol started moving toward their location, but after five minutes passed, it still hadn’t arrived. “What’s going on?” she muttered, the edges of irritation creeping into her voice.
Max glanced up from his book. “Still waiting?” he asked. Lily nodded, gesturing to the tablet. “It’s weird,” she said. “I can see the taxi. It gets close, but then it veers off like it’s avoiding us.” Max frowned and came over to look at the screen. “That is strange,” he agreed, watching the car’s icon move in circles around their location but never getting any closer. They waited another twenty minutes, but the taxi didn’t arrive. Finally, Lily let out a frustrated huff. “Forget this. Let’s just take the bus.”
The walk to the bus stop was uneventful, but Lily’s irritation hadn’t faded. She pulled up the bus schedule on her tablet. “It says three minutes,” she announced. Max nodded, looking down the street. “Good,” he replied. But three minutes turned into ten, and then twenty, with no sign of the bus. Lily stared at the app, willing the bus icon to appear. When the vehicle finally rumbled into view, she felt a pang of relief that was quickly replaced by exasperation.
As they stepped onto the bus, Lily tapped on her payment app, but the screen froze on an endless loading circle. “Ugh, come on,” she muttered, tapping it again and again, but nothing happened. Max stepped forward, offering cash instead. The bus driver took the bills, holding them up to the light as if inspecting counterfeit money.