When it came to my sexual preferences I never considered myself to be anything but straight. Sure, I looked at women, I admired their beauty, studied their hairstyle, clothes, shoes, make-up, but there was never the slightest spark of sexual or romantic interest. In the summer of 2015 something happened with no prior warning or build-up of self-doubt that freaked me out. I was suddenly thrown into a sexual confusion where I felt that I didn’t know myself anymore. Surely these are the type of doubts you might expect to experience in your teens, not at my age.

It was a Friday and I was traveling home by train from Waterloo Station in London to Guildford in Surrey. I wanted to avoid Friday’s rush hour (when you can’t get a seat), so I left work early and found a seat by the window in one of those sets of seats where they face each other with no table in between. Shortly afterward a couple of young women took the seats opposite to me and placed a load of shopping bags on the rack above; soon the train gently pulled away from the station.

I took a glance over at the two women and noticed that the one sitting on the left directly opposite me had long wavy light brown hair, subtle lip and eye make-up, was wearing a light grey hoodie which had a sleeveless denim jacket over the top, and she wore a pretty flared white leaf patterned black short skirt with bare legs. Her companion, who had darker brown and straight shoulder-length hair, was also wearing minimal make-up and wore a black vest top and olive green military jogger bottoms. Both were small breasted, fit and slim and had chosen trainers for footwear.

I guessed they were in their mid-twenties, both very pretty, had lovely skin and delightful smiles as they chatted away. I tried not to listen to what they were saying, but I did anyway. It was just general everyday conversation about fashion, shopping, Oxford Street, some bar they’d been to for lunch and the weather, of course. British people are obsessed with the weather.

As the train moved out of the station, and to avoid listening to their conversation, I took my book Ignite Me by Tahereh Mafi out of my bag and started reading. A while later my attention was disturbed by the two women getting very animated, laughing and giggling at photos they were sharing on their smartphones and what sounded like posts on social media. With my attention to reading disrupted, I looked over the top of the book’s pages to be greeted by the view of the girl on the left giggling with her legs slightly parted, one raised slightly and a view between her legs showing the white V of her lacy knickers. Realizing what I was seeing I quickly averted my eyes and went back to my book. It all happened in a flash - if you’ll pardon the pun. I wasn’t staring and she hadn’t noticed.

This happened a few times during the journey and I found myself compulsively doing the same thing, again and again, as if I would miss something if I didn’t. Without realizing it, I was being visually stimulated by seductive views of her smooth inner thighs and that white lacy triangle. I wasn’t thinking or questioning why I was doing this. In the past, I would probably look around to see if she realized that was what she was doing or looked for the lucky young man she was teasing. I felt my face flush and a warmness developing between my legs. This had never occurred before in these types of circumstances and I was feeling flustered and embarrassed by it, so I hid my reddened face back behind my book and tried to avoid looking again.

Eventually, after a few stops, we reached Woking and they both stood up to get ready to leave the train. I still couldn’t miss noticing how her skirt swished around her thighs as she stood up; they both shuffled forwards and turned to reach up for their shopping bags from the rack above and I was given a very quick glimpse of her lacy white thong separating the cheeks of her fit peachy bum. Damn, my determination to not look again was broken without thinking and within a split second.

They left and joined the back of the queue of passengers in the aisle waiting for the train to stop so they could depart. Flush-faced again and breathing heavily, I think I was also relieved this had come to an end.  I wanted my brain to shut down for a few minutes and pretend this had never happened - if it had happened. Why would I do this? Where did the impulse to do this come from?

I breathed a deep sigh of relief and decided to sink back into my seat and hide again behind my book when suddenly a finger hooked over the top of my book pulling it gently away from my face. I looked up to be greeted by the eyes and smile of the young woman who’d been sitting opposite me.

“Hi,” she said. “My name is Jennifer.  I just thought you should know that being curious is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

I stared in silence.

“I’ve been there myself and it can happen at any age. If you’re having difficulty understanding and want to explore these new-found desires, I would be very excited to help. Give me a call when you’re ready.”

Jennifer handed me a small piece of paper with her mobile phone number written on it, then left with her skirt swaying against her thighs as she walked.

What she didn’t know was that prior to me getting on that train I had never been stimulated like that before, in my life, by looking at another woman.

To be continued…