For all that the weather was bad, the bus was mostly empty. Near the front a harried looking mother was feeding crackers to her two small children. A couple teens were hunched over their phones, an older woman in office garb stared out the window, and distorted club music played from the back of the bus. I could see the knees and feet of someone lying on a seat, presumably their phone being the source of the music.
The other two I'd changed I'd given both an adjective and a noun, or maybe the profession was important aspect? I didn't want to unwrap the book, as delicate as it was, and risk losing valuable information. I glanced again at my fellow riders, considering what I might do for them.
The older woman was separated from the others by a few seats, enough I might have a quiet word without drawing much attention.
At the next stop I moved to the seat across from hers. Sher wore sensible shoes, a wool skirt and jacket, and a white blouse. She'd have looked at home just about anywhere behind a desk. Her hands, clutched together in her lap, were bony, there was some sagging under her chin, and grey in her hair.
"I haven't any money." she said, still looking out the window.
I paused for a moment, then flushed realizing she thought I was about to hit her up for a handout.
"Would you like some? I've got spare." I smiled as she turned to look at me. I've been told I have a very boyish smile, something like Hugh Grant's.
She scowled. "What are you on about?"
She lifted a collapsed umbrella from the seat beside her, holding it like a club. I noted she wasn't wearing a wedding band, women her age normally would. Not that I had a problem with a husband or boyfriend getting the benefits of what I had planned for her, but I'd hoped for a closer inspection.
"Well I couldn't help seeing a buxom beauty like yourself riding alone and not take the opportunity to chat you up."
The changes were immediate: the grey fled from her hair leaving it a shining chestnut brown. Her face lost its pinched look, skin more youthful with a flush of vitality. She was wearing just a touch of lipstick and eyeshadow now. Her blouse filled out, jacket spreading to frame her new assets. Even her hands looked soft and elegant, her nails painted a deep blue to match her skirt, and her eyes.
She swallowed several times, then glanced down at the expanse of her bosom, blushing gently.
"I'm old enough to be your mum." She murmured, clutching the umbrella with both hands in her lap. This had the possibly intentional effect of drawing more emphasis to her chest.
"Perhaps I have Oedipal issues then, but I'm feeling peckish, and wondered if you might like to join me for a bite?"
She glanced at me briefly, then back down at her lap. Or what I imagined she could see of it beyond the expanse of her white blouse.
"I'm quite the charming fellow, you could do worse for the evening companion, I sure you." I waited for her response. I'd felt something as I described myself, but then I always have been a charmer when it comes to the ladies. I wondered if she remembered being a dowdy, small chested drab. Likely not, or she'd have reacted differently.
"There's a place up ahead I enjoy," she said finally, "Do you like pub food?" She smiled hesitantly.
"Sounds wonderful!" I exclaimed, beaming back at her.