The low October sun beats down and illuminates the pages of the forgettable magazine that I am half heartedly reading. Honestly, every week I tell myself not to buy it and every week it reaches out and pulls me into its transparent charms. I guess like most girls of 21, I love a bit of celebrity trivia.
The train I am sat on is making good time and barring a signal failure, or the wrong type of leaves on the track I should get home on time. I’ve only been away for a week but it feels longer. The course had been a complete nightmare, and it was a mighty relief to finish it with a creditable 72 percent score, meaning I just beat the acceptable pass threshold of 70 percent.
We stop at a small, unmanned country station and pick up a couple of people. A stuffy looking middle-aged man in a smart suit, and more interestingly, a younger man, closer to my age I would guess. He is far from smartly turned out, sporting ripped faded jeans and a pale blue t-shirt. Despite his attire, he looks mouth-wateringly gorgeous.
My heart sinks as I see him making his way down the carriage and settling into a seat quite a distance from me. Oh well, a bit of eye candy would have brightened the journey, but it looks like the magazine has got the job of keeping me entertained once again.
I settle into mindless details of which celebrity has come out of the closet, or which girl band member has a sizeable patch of cellulite. It really is mind numbing. After a few moments my attention is broken by a fracas on board. It’s the yummy scruffy guy, gesturing and arguing with somebody. He is pointing and getting quite animated over something. Next thing he has stormed away from his seat, looking very angry and heading back towards my end of the carriage.
I stare back into my magazine, but hear his footsteps getting louder and closer before I see in my periphery vision that he has crashed down directly opposite me. I feel myself blush, but decide that I am not going to look at him, well not yet at least. After a few moments of him mumbling to himself, probably about the argument he just had, he goes silent, and I can feel that he is looking at me. I still keep my guard up, not giving off any signal of interest at all.
Inside I so want to look, to see what he is like close up. It’s such a struggle and I don’t know how long I can keep this up. I can feel his eyes devouring me, one thing is for sure, he isn’t the shy type.
“Excuse me, can you tell me what time it is please.”
His voice is surprisingly soft, and gentle, but definitely full of confidence. Shame it’s delivering such a lame line.
“It’s just before six o’clock.”
He nods in acknowledgment and then smiles. As he moves his arm I can see that he is wearing a watch anyway. Oh yes, this guy is definitely coming on to me. What a cheek!
From the fleeting glance I see he has a quite beautiful face, fresh looking olive skin, pouting lips and huge brown eyes. He is delicious, but he knows it too. I’m not going to give in that easily.
I carry on reading, my magazine nearly done now and my journey only a few stops from completion. My mystery man is still looking at me, eyes taking in my bare legs and then up over my blouse, three buttons undone, showing quite a lot of cleavage. He seems to like what he sees.
The train lurches into the last large station before mine and the carriage empties except for the two of us, the chime of chatter now gone, just a wall of heavy silence between us. You could cut the atmosphere with a knife.
The journey begins again, immediately the silence is shattered by a portly ticket inspector. I fish my ticket out of my bag, bending slightly and showing off my heaving cleavage, now with two pairs of eyes all over them. The inspector doesn’t seem to want to move his eyes, mouthing a thank you as he passes me back the ticket, eyes glued to my breasts.
He snaps out of his trance and turns to face the man opposite me, asking for his ticket.
“I seem to have lost my ticket. I did buy one, honestly.”
“Yes, and I once sang with Elvis. You’ll have to buy another one or it’s time to get off.”
The pair argue for a moment. There is no charming the inspector. My travelling companion has to pay. His hand delves into his jeans pocket, making the loose change rattle, but the denim is so tight that he can’t get the hand back out. He curses and stands up to release the change.
Now it is my turn to admire him. The tight jeans reveal a very muscular pair of thighs, which is a major turn on for me anyway. But combined with the very impressive looking cock bulge he is sporting just makes me drool. He is good looking, fit and has (unless he is padding out) has a very big dick.
He catches me looking at him and smirks. He knows I’m interested now, so much for my cool as a cucumber exterior. I don’t care anymore, feeling my panties dampen at the very thought of sucking and fucking that cock.