PART THREE

The dirty, cracked vinyl on the bus seat rubbed uncomfortably against the back of my bare thighs. My short shorts offered little protection for my ass, but the irritation kept my mind off the next two hours.

I refused to dwell on what made me desperate enough to continue on my premeditated unlawful activity, because I'd spent the past three days talking myself into it.

The city bus finally made its last stop of the night, the squeaky brakes adding to my ...