Odalys spat on the sidewalk as soon as she got off the bus. Luli, already unfurling her umbrella against the mid-morning sun, did a little dance to avoid it. "Ay, chica, you spit like a damn truck driver!"
Odalys glared back at her fellow rider. Like herself, Luli rode the 571 bus from near Eighth Street to come down here to the oversized dwellings of Bayside Estates to earn $9.25 an hour to labor for the well-to-do inhabitants. Doing the laundry, walking the dogs and cleaning the toilets. Two among the thousands of similar voyages of economic necessity that occurred throughout the county, as the residents abandoned their high-end enclaves for their careers and spa appointments and private schools; replaced by their daytime substitutes.
It wasn't like the two were friends. Odalys would have been content to continue her daily passage on the vaguely air-conditioned bus in solitude, but Luli had gravitated to her like a petite moon, each day taking a seat a little bit closer. It had taken her months to get to the point of actually speaking.
Odalys had noticed her slow approach, and on the few brief moments that involved eye contact, she felt a hint of something flirtaceous, something sexual.
Eventually, names were passed, words spoken. But so far, the only thing Luli had passed between her very sensuous lips was the usual banal chit-chat about weather and cheap employers.
"Every day, I spit in the same damn spot. If it bother you so, why you never say anythin'?"
Luli remained silent as they crossed he street behind the blast of dieselly bus fumes and walked east. Odalys had to shield her eyes from the glare of the South Florida sun. She had grown up in the foothills overlooking Caracas, the mountain air never so thick and hot as it was here. Today, she felt like an ant walking under a magnifying glass.
"We can share my umbrella."
"You sure 'bout that? I might sweat on you."
"No problemo." The two began walking side by side, bare arm brushing against bare arm. Odalys' head began to fill with the sweet citrus scent of Luli's Herrera.
"Tu sabes," said Luli, her voice a low whisper, "mi papi? He was a truck driver."
I was dropping my kid off this morning and was behind a county bus. It stopped and two women got off, the taller of the two spit a big gob on the street, and the other followed along behind her with her umbrella. This is probably just further proof that men will fantasize hot lesbo sex scenes to fit any occasion, but there it is. Not part of anything else I'm working on, just a little scene. With apologies to all gay women, everywhere.