Cracked rear view

On the day: 
29/08/2012 

On the way: 
The woman's short bobbed dreadlocks hang heavy over a furrowed brow. It's been a long day. All she wants is a seat on the bus where she can put her shopping bag on her lap and take a load off her gold-sandalled feet. 
Well it's her lucky night. There's a man up on his feet, eager to offer her his seat. 
It's the bare-bellied fellow in the red Los Angeles cap, swigging from his plastic water bottle in the window seat behind the door. 
He's making good on his offer, shuffling sideways towards the aisle, but she can't summon up much in the way of enthusiasm. No show of gratitude for his polite behaviour. Can it be his naked ebony torso? Certainly there is no sign of a shirt, none at all, not over a shoulder, not in a pocket, but she must have seen considerably worse during high summer on the buses. 
"I'm not crazy I'm just hot," he protests as he steps out into the aisle. "I can't take it." 
His jeans hang below the twin curves of his buttocks revealing a pair of grey underpants. At least, that's the rear view. She's got another perspective. Briefly. Before she slips into the safety of her seat - where she will later be sitting when she misses her stop.
About that lucky night... 

On the pod: 
Human Nature - Madonna 

On the front page: 
'The cream of warriors from a very select tribe' (The Times)