The glass panelling of the bus shelter accommodates her voluptuous figure, as she listens attentively to the sonorous tapping of the midday downpour colliding with the metal roof. Her mini skirt reaches half way down her thigh, while her black, knee-length boots, fall just below her knee. She has certainly learned a thing or two about how to appeal to the opposite sex, and the (bad) habits of men. The disparity between fiction and reality seems to hold no clue for our heroine! Her twenty-something dress sense paints a paradoxical scene: it’s late autumn; the best days have long gone; and being well into the second half of her life, it’s difficult not to argue that our bus stop cougar’s probably have too. However this doesn’t deter her, and like a hungry moggy, ready to surprise a mouse, she carefully and subtly eyes-up her youthful victim. Her gaze shifts asunder, being careful to avoid his avid glance, as she reflects inwardly of his juvenile allure. Old enough to be his mother, and ashamed of her wanton lust, her face betrays her; it flushes to the colour of the overcooked lobster boiling away in the pot.
Finally, the bus arrives with a short, sharp jolt, as the polluting smell of exhaust fumes permeates the cold, damp, afternoon air. She makes her escape, all the while reflecting that tomorrow is another day and perhaps then will pluck up the courage. After all, if it’s good enough for Demi, why the hell not. But a single memory bursts into her head. Yes, it’s fun while it lasts, but look what happened with Kutcher!