The Journey

“Please mind the gap.”  As I step aboard the train, I look around, relieved.  It’s a stifling, hot day and the London Underground is warmer still.  Thankfully the compartment is relatively empty.  Sighing, I sink gratefully into the nearest seat.  As the train speeds off into the darkness, I’m lulled into a kind of half doze by the gentle movement of the carriage.  I don’t fight it; my muscles relax and my eyes close. 

“We are now approaching Marble Arch.  Marble Arch is your next station.”  Coming to, I groggily wipe the sleep out of my eyes.  My mouth feels dusty and dry, so I reach into my bag for a bottle of water.  Taking a swig, I instantly feel better.  After replacing the bottle in my bag, I sit up and glance around the carriage. 

Across the way is a college student with her head in a copy of War and Peace.  A young mother tries to placate her crying baby.  There’s an old man who is busy with The Times crossword.  In short, everything seems normal enough. 

At this point a young man stalks into the carriage.  Laurence Fox with a touch of Daniel Craig thrown in for good measure, I think to myself.  He’s tall and slender, with sandy blonde hair that’s stood up in messy, rather untidy spikes.  The face is tough and uncompromising; pale blue eyes provide an arresting contrast with his tanned, slightly weather beaten complexion.  Not the type of eyes that you forget in a hurry.  The nose is perhaps a little on the large side, but I decide that it adds character to his face. The lips by comparison, form a graceful counterpoint to his somewhat rough hewn features.  They’re soft and somewhat feminine in shape. I imagine lightly nipping his bottom lip, our tongues tangling…   

I shake my head, bringing myself back to the present.  The stranger spots a space, pretty much opposite me.  With a sigh, he folds his lean and lanky frame onto the seat, staring moodily out into the inky blackness of the tunnel outside. 

Pulling off his black blazer, my stranger reveals a thin, white cotton shirt that leaves very little to the imagination.  My eyes traverse upwards, noting the way that perspiration makes the cotton cling to his lean, rangy, frame.  He shifts position slightly and I imagine the muscles shifting, contracting, beneath the pale, creamy skin.  I imagine unbuttoning the shirt, planting tiny, feather light kisses all the way up his abdomen.  My tongue swirling around the base of those rosy nipples, bringing them to hard, sharp, little points…Him groaning, head thrown back, totally in my power…oh yes… 

I take in those, long, beautiful denim clad legs, resting for a moment on the fairly sizeable bulge that his cock makes.  The thought of impaling myself on his meaty girth makes my clit throb and the moisture pool between my legs.  Suddenly I’m conscious of the fact that it’s got even warmer in here.  My pupils dilate and my skin feels flushed, almost as if it’s too tightly stretched across my bones.  Under my somewhat worn and faded cotton tank top, my nipples tighten and stand to attention.  Sweat trickles slowly down between my breasts… 

How long I’ve been staring at him, fascinated, I’ve no idea.  He’s not the most gorgeous bloke I’ve ever seen, yet I find myself enjoying the scenery nonetheless. 

There’s something almost fierce and hungry about him.  He exudes a twitchy kind of restlessness; clearly he’s itching to get to his final destination.  Then, as if aware of my scrutiny, he turns around, those cold blue orbs now trained on me.  I gasp.  Suddenly I feel as if I’ve been plunged into freezing cold water, dimly aware of my skin turning to goosebumps.  His gaze is unremitting and remorseless.  It’s as if he’s daring me to break eye contact.  Yet I couldn’t if my life depended upon it. He makes me feel as if I’m stripped bare for all to see, as if he’s looking straight into the innermost depths of my soul. 

Talk about a mind fuck. 

“This train is approaching Oxford Circus.  Oxford Circus is your next station.”  My stranger gets up, never once breaking eye contact with me.  Then he smiles and the landscape shifts once again.  Those wintry blue eyes become warm and inviting.  Little fine lines appear at the corners of his eyes.  His lips curve upwards.  The grin is both intimate and sexual, as he looks me up and down, clearly liking what he sees. 

I find myself grinning in return.  Then, when I think (or should that be hope?) he’s going to start a conversation, my stranger leans in, whispers, “see ya.”  The only thought I find myself capable of formulating is how warm his breath feels on my skin.  He straightens up, tosses off a jaunty salute and then jumps off the train, disappearing into the crowds. 

I’m left, senses working overtime, body tingling. 

Like I said, talk about a mind fuck.

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