A dangerous liaison

Mishruka. (Russian)
Literal trans. Local Kyrgyz bus usually converted Mercedes sprinter with the addition of a few handrails.
Cons:- No apparent timetable, no apparent max capacity, no chance of comfortable trip, always guaranteed a massive cracked windscreen. Driver will be smoking, on the phone, counting chance and attempting to drive quickly all at the same time.
Pros:- 13p across town.

"I sat perched one butt check on the dash board the other on the door handle, arm dangling out the window FACING the people of the 166 bus! Well if it hadn't been for a Kyrgyz lady literally sitting on top of me!

Now don't get me wrong I am not adverse to having a foreign lovely in such close proximity to my person to the extent I could feel every breath she made and every move she made, I had no choice but to watch her slender frame rise and fall with each intake a warm humid air as it obscured my already limited view. She smelt of the East, a warm muskiness. It clung to her every pore, assaulting my already battered senses. Her flowing dress billowed around us as air rushed from the open window wrapping us in a cacophony of navy and red.

The catch to this slight alarming perverted situation. She had nothing to hold onto in our jammed to the max 29 person minibus. Therefore my leg became the object of her super pointy fingered need for stability.

Being very British and being raised on the society of personal space, where a gent should only touch a lady to grace her hand with the barest whisper of ones lips and desperately tried to edge back blocked by the bouncer of a windshield. I shift left and the door handle instantly reminds me if I ever want to have a family in the future this wound not be the wisest course of action! Like having a gun to your back.

Trapped...

Having no command of Kyrgyz and Russian limited to "good morning", "cheers" and "thank you" my situation was bleak. I twist my arm from out the window, touch the lady on the elbow (the only semi appropriate place I could reach) and offer her my hand "Thankyou?"

A look of understanding crosses between our eyes and she takes my hand, steadying herself in her heels. Like finding a lifeboat in turbulent sees. My abused thigh sags in relief.

Needless to say 15 minutes later when we were unceremoniously dumped from the bus a weak smile and hurried departure was my only reward the newly acquired 5 bruising nail marks I was now sporting :)