Elliot Palmer tapped his foot to the rhythm of the music in his earphones as he absent-mindedly skimmed through the day’s offering of The Metro.  Every so often he would peek above the already dog-eared journal and steal a glance at her.  As per the previous two days, she was reading the same book and making good progress, judging by the number of pages she appeared to have read.  Their eyes met briefly on that first day and he sensed an immediate connection; this was reaffirmed on the second day when she smiled at him, albeit discreetly, but noticeable to him.  Of course, it might have been his imagination running away with him and it was true to say that Elliot had a particularly vivid imagination.

 

The train began to slow as it made its final approach into London. Commuters stood and started to gather up their belongings and make their way to the nearest exit.  Elliot found himself standing close behind her in the crowded carriage.  His pulse raced as he inhaled her scent for the first time.  Her long, dark brown hair cascaded down her back, inches from his nose.  The train creaked as it jostled over points and switched tracks, forcing Elliot to grab the nearest hand rail to steady himself.  The train braked suddenly to a virtual standstill and he felt her back into him whilst trying to remain upright.  However, she was slow to retract her rear from his groin; in fact he sensed she let it linger as she brushed herself against him.

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Elliot stood his ground as he looked down and took in the beauty of her pertly formed arse in the tight cotton skirt.  The music continued to pound in his ears as he savoured the moment.  The train picked up speed, causing her to brush his groin once more, this time more deliberately, yet oblivious to those around him.  Elliot felt an awkward sense of arousal in his boxers and began wondering how best to take his mind off things.  As the train finally entered the station, her hand reached behind her and gently cupped him between his legs. She closed her hand around him, just as the doors of the commuter train hissed open.  In a flash she released him, stepped off the train and was lost in the crowd.

 

The alarm clock radio on Elliot’s bedside table burst into song as he awoke from his semi-slumber state.  He lay there, thoughts of this mystery woman still very much in his head.  Since moving out of the city less than a month ago, his daily commute into work had provided yet another playground for his furtive mind to run riot. Elliot loved to people watch, it was his favourite pastime.  In the last two days he had watched her out of the corner of his eye as she read her book.  Each time she stopped to look up, he tried to imagine what thoughts passed through her mind.  And on the two occasions their eyes had met and she had smiled, he was fascinated to know if the connection he sensed was the same for her too.  Elliot loved to play these games wherever he was, whatever he was doing; be it on a train, around a conference table, even in the dentist’s waiting room!

 

“Are you getting up, honey?”

 

Elliot was brought back to the sound of the music in his bedroom as he turned and wrapped his arms and legs around the woman lying next to him.  He kissed her affectionately on her cheek.  “I am, sweetie,” he replied. “Just pondering how I’m going to approach this week’s Group Huddle this morning.”

 

“Well turn the bloody radio off and go ponder in the shower please!  Some of us still have another hour’s sleep if we’re lucky.”

 

“Yes, my love,” he muttered, laughing to himself as he hit the radio’s snooze button and leapt out of bed.

 

Jumping into the shower, his mind raced back to the young woman on the train.  He replayed the scenario once more in his head and nodded in approval as the hot, refreshing water beat down on his yearning body. He worked himself up into a soapy lather as he contemplated where this particular fantasy might lead next. He felt there was much mileage in this encounter, whether he set eyes on her again or not, which was quite often the case.  Some of his wildest fantasies often arose from the most fleeting of eye contact and knowing look, but it was usually enough to set the seeds of lust in motion.  Over a period of two to three weeks he would work and rework the scenario over and over in his head; honing down the details, ironing out the logistics, contriving a teasing cat and mouse exchange of words, until it was to his pleasurable liking.  Elliot thrived on the thrill of the chase with encounters such as these; he would play with himself whilst living out his fantasy of the moment and more often than not he would climax long before any sexual activity took place, such was his slow burning, torturous attention to detail.

 

Elliot emerged from the bathroom and began to dress in the semi-darkened bedroom.  He watched as his wife slept and smiled at her peaceful expression.  He never once discussed his sexual fantasies with her.  He recalled the one occasion he had broached the subject, when he asked her what she thought about while he was making love to her.  She had replied that her thoughts were quite empty, simply one of warmth and calm. When she then asked him his thoughts, not wishing to summon the three horses of the apocalypse, he light-heartedly told her that he often thought about scoring the winning goal at Wembley; the ball striking the back of the net just as the final whistle sounded!  The very fact she accepted this answer dismayed him.  Elliot considered himself a good lover, certainly his wife never complained and he owed this gift very much to his wild and wicked imagination.  He certainly felt no guilt for his thoughts.  Far from it; it was these very thoughts that made him the lover he was.