The Daily Commute

[WaCough]

Thomas a handsome yet bored executive rides the same commuter train daily. His usual routine is shattered when a beauty sits beside him and strikes up a conversation. She too suffers from the same ennui. After some polite badinage he asks her name. But she insists, “no names, no histories.” Their flirting increases daily. Soon they speak of fantasies and past adventures. Their teasing becomes physical, furtive touches even greeting and parting kisses. She gradually takes over his imagination, his dreams his musings. Finally they meet for a weekend of unbridled sexual fulfillment. He never sees her on the train after this encounter. I would like the thread to run for only 20 posts as the etiquette of ending a thread bothers me. If you are interested in co-writing the piece let me know. Thanks


Thomas plunked his laptop on the seat beside him. He looked out the window and adopted that glazed look common to daily commuters. He read the familiar names of the stations as the train entered each one and the seats around him gradually filled. As they pulled into Brownsville station he automatically picked up his computer and placed it on his lap. He knew he would soon be sharing his seat as the Brownsville crowd filtered onto the carriage. It was always at Brownsville that all seats were taken. From then on, from Carlton station and into the city the remaining passengers would stand and lurch their way to their destinations. Thomas recognized many of the passengers but communication was never attempted nor encouraged. He even ,on occasion, noticed personal things like changes in hairstyles or a new coat on the interesting commuters.

Thomas would admire a sculptured bum, a curving calf, and a bewitching face on many of the females who entered the carriage. But, eye contact was forbidden, years of commuter convention set rigid standards of behavior. You had to shift your eyes from say an ad, to the window, or to the floor and in the path of your shift you would glimpse the bum or the leg that had caught your fancy. Only simpletons or boors openly stared and made others feel uncomfortable.

He found that the snatched glimpse often fed rather than diminished his imagination. There were certain passengers that he looked forward to surreptitiously ogling. : passengers for whom he had invented names and a fantasy life. Little slices of desire were matched to a shifting skirt, a pouting mouth. He sometimes caught one of these girls looking at him: bouncing a gaze off the window, or feigning a look elsewhere. His self-esteem was surprisingly elevated on these occasions.

When he was awake and chipper, he enjoyed playing with the puerile images. But when like today, he had slept poorly, working even after he had closed off his laptop, he just wanted to get to the office. Out of habit he eyed the legs, thighs, breasts of the attractive females but his mind was elsewhere. He had harried clients all demanding his undivided attention and today he was steeling himself for their barrage.

 

[Natasha_bernier]

"I can't believe you're running late on your first day!" Liz muttered to herself as she quickly passed the brushed metal rotary gates. The large metallic contraption spun a third of the way around before she realized the slim strap of her handbag had gotten stuck in the gears, and were it not for her quick caffein-induced reflexes, the contents of her "survival kit", as she liked to call it, would have adorned the planked floor. The young brunette picked up the pace, glancing quickly at the old cardboard clock on the outside of the station. Realizing she would probably miss the T, she let out a small four-lettered swear escape from her plum-colored lips that one could have easily mistaken for "duck" before collecting herself and taking a left.

As she stepped onto the main platform, she was almost startled by the sharp sound of her own heels on the smooth metallic floor that interconnected Hills' View station to the exterior bay. She wasn't used to wearing them, and if this hadn't been her first day on the job, she would most certainly would have been wearing her trademark plats. "Turn left, then right at the sign" the young brunette repeated to herself, the exact words the young man who lived in the ticket-box had said to her. She had an horrid memory, and she found the only way she could remember the minutiae of her everyday life, especially on the first day, was to repeat it to herself out loud, as annoying as it might be for the people around her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied the number 18 getting ready to leave and took off with little regard for her less-than-appropriate footwear. "Waitwaitwaitwait!" she screeched, quickly crossing the small distance, dodging the occasional moving bystander that got in her way. She could hear the closing pneumatic doors of the train, which was ready to take off any second; years of experience in being late for urgent meetings had taught her to instinctively fight the last-second jitters that inevitably accompanied the last few meters' sprint. She excused herself from the last few people that hovered aimlessly around the embarcation frame, cursing their zombie-like attraction to the boarding ramp, and slid seemlessly inside the number 18 commute. She had done it. And with a whole second to spare!

She breathed in deeply, always amazed on how good an exercise train-catching was, and briefly wondered if it was worth suscribing to a local gym for the duration of her contract in the city. She wasn't planning on staying long, but she liked to keep fit. As soon as the line started moving, she moved to the front of the train, keeping her arms folded in onto herself to avoid brushing against other passengers, in-line behind an elderly woman who had to move slowly to avoid losing her balance in the moving vehicle. "Rookie" she thought to herself playfully, then immediately felt bad for thinking such an awful thing. Herself, she was used to public transport; her years in college and the countless hours spent on the rails riding to and from Boston had given her a certain affinity for the "meat baskets" as her roommate had referred to it back then. She rustled with her curly brown hair, blowing a few loose strands out of her eyes and braced herself instinctively on a ceiling handle. As the train took a sharp left, Liz moved to a slightly less-densely packed portion of the train and heard a familiar beeping noise coming from behind her. She immediately reached for the silver-colored PDA that hung from the back of her handbag and expertly shut the annoyingly loud beep off, conceiling the device as best she could to hide this ultimate commuter-newbie's faux-pas.

Out of the corner of her peripheral vision, she saw an empty seat next to a man that fit her tier-one requirements: he didn't smell like vodka, had a nice suit on and didn't carry a backpack larger than himself. She was very picky about who she sat next to on the train. Too bad she didn't have the same discernment with men, her mother would have said... She quickly slid into the aisle-seat, careful to avoid eye-contact with the man next to her, reading off the display of her personal assistant as she did: "Wake up. Ur starting a new job 2day." She smiled out a wry smile, repressing a sudden urge to throw the darn thing out the cracked window of the train...

 

[WaCough]

As he sat drifting in his seat, Thomas was organizing his first hour at work. He would call Stan to his office for a quick meeting: the Waldon account had to be up to date by noon. The train filled predictably, and he slid closer to the window, inevitably someone would plunk themselves beside him, invading his space. He knew the drill. He would be expected to wrap himself in a cocoon of privacy and introspection, as would his seat partner. If it were a pretty woman he would covertly check out her legs, perhaps catch a whiff of perfume, rub elbows. More likely than not it would be a burly construction worker with the sniffles or an enormous woman wrestling a collapsible shopping cart into the opening between herself and the seat. He tried to wedge himself into the corner against such an assault.

To his amazement and delight however a striking, bouncy brunette espied the open seat and deftly slipped herself into the vacant spot. Thomas caught a passing glimpse of her ass as she bent and lowered herself into place. This was done under the pretense of clearing his suit jacket flap off the cushion and ensuring that there was room for her to sit. It was a tight cute bum and he filed the image of it in his memory. He caught a fleeting look at her face as she had moved towards him and was thrilled by her appearance. He registered her sex appeal all the while disguising his attempts to assess her, to catch a peek at her breasts, her waist. Still there is a carriage natural to a beautiful woman and she had it. There was an assurance, a confidence of movement, an ‘of course I can’ attitude, which sexy women emitted.

She crossed her legs, settled her purse on her lap, flipped her hair and relaxed into the seat. It was easy for him to cast his eyes down and admire her knee and leg. Her perfume was subtle and disturbing. He imagined running his hand up the outside of her leg, feeling her cool tight thigh, staring into her inviting eyes. Under his laptop he felt his cock stirring and admonished himself to settle down. There was no way he could be sporting an erection when he had to stand and exit the train. Still he allowed himself to enjoy a dreamy semi arousal.

It was then that her handbag slipped off her lap and onto the floor. He reached a hand down immediately and bent quickly to retrieve it. She made the self-same movement and the pair of them clunked heads together while stretching for the purse. There was a flash of light behind his eyelids and a quick shake of his head. He had one end of the purse strap in his left hand she held the other in her right. They stared blankly at each other; both stunned by the incident. Then they broke into laughter. His laptop had tumbled to the floor in the fray.

“Your purse, madam.” Thomas intoned in mock seriousness.

“Why thank you kind sir.” She played along with the scene.

“Now you just sit back and I’ll retrieve my laptop. We don’t need to knock each other into oblivion again.” He gently placed a hand on top of hers in feigned restraint as he reached down and fetched his laptop. When he sat up again he made a quarter turn in his seat and faced her.

“I actually saw a lightning flash for God’s sake. We really clunked into each other. You OK?” He reached up to feel his forehead for a lump. She too had swiveled in place and their knees were now touching.

“Me too.” She tentatively patted her own head. Thomas was now in position to study her totally. She was a stunner, he decided. She had a trim athletic figure and an open lovely face. Her eyes were large, amber dancing saucers of joy. She made a number of quips and laid her hand like a butterfly on top of his. “It’s my first day on a new job and I nearly knock myself senseless on the train. Typical.” She laughed easily and her ease and chattiness smote him. In little girl fashion she folded one leg under the other and made a complete half turn to face Thomas. “ I nearly caught the damned thing in the turnstile,” she joked “It’ll be the ruin of me, I swear.”

He turned as best he could in the seat and his thigh pressed into her knee. She didn’t recoil in the least and they continued laughing and quipping for the remaining twenty minutes before Thomas’ stop. She was the next stop he informed her and gave her directions to her building, which could be reached, through the underground mall. They laughed about never seeing the light of day. As he was leaving, he stood in the aisle, placed a hand on her shoulder and let it rest there.

“Good luck on your first day. I’ll be thinking about you.” He smiled down at her.

She reached up and covered his hand with hers. She thanked him warmly. “Save me a seat tomorrow.” She called to him as he headed for the door.

He had no idea how prophetic his own words were. “I’ll be thinking of you.” He mulled over his ride for the rest of the day. He pictured her smile, heard and replayed their exchanges, fantasized about her that night. He was eager for the next day’s commute….

 

[Natasha_bernier]

Day 2

"Hold the door!" Liz bellowed as she sprinted toward the train, her left arm holding the contents of her handbag from scrambling on the floor; she'd have to remember to lodge a complain about the darn turnstile. For the second day in a row, she'd gotten her handag caught in the mechanical contraption. This time, however, she hadn't been quick enough and it had pretty much gutten her brand new carryall.

With expert precision, she avoided a blind man, lead by a beautiful male Golden, and dashed for the ramp. She could afford to be more reckless today; she'd been able to toss the horribly uncomfortable heels back in the depths of her closet where they belonged. Dressed in a more casual attire, she felt empowered to brave the crowd and, once more today, she made the train by the skin of her teeth.

It seemed as though there were a lot more people that embarked at the Hill's View station today. Which was a mixed blessing for it had probably bought her the few extra seconds she needed to get on. But it also meant there would be fewer empty seats... As she mentally prepared herself to stand on the long ride into the city, she smiled broadly as she spied her gracious knight in tailored-armor. He was sitting in the same seat as the day before, but hadn't shifted from the aisle-seat to the window-seat. As promised, he had kept her seat.

"Good morning" he welcomed her with a warm smile, scuttling aside to allow her entrance into the cream-colored booth. As she hurried into place, their thighs rubbed against the other's slightly and Liz suddenly felt warmer as she let her body touch-down against the hard plastic of the train bench. "Trouble with the turnstiles again?" he asked casually with a hint of malice, his deep eyes pointing toward the mess of a purse she still held tightly against herself.

Liz laughed, her pale cheeks reddening ever-so-slightly. "Yeah, these things are a regular menace!"

They talked and laughed for a while. Like before, it felt utterly right. No pressure, no expectations;such was the magic of a commute-relationship. She liked it that way. It had been a long time since Liz had related on such a level with another male; it felt great. Her mother would probably joke that this would be the longest relationship she'd had since little Tommy Carson in the ninth grade...

Eventually, the garbled voice of the conductor came on, announcing the stop before hers, her companion's. Granted, only the most seasoned veteran of the commute could understand a single word of the static-deformed words on the intercom, but he seemed to understand fine, excusing himself as he got out of the corner-seat, brushing against her as he did. He smelled faintly of chestnuts and of... something else, something salty, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was the kind of unique fragrance that you instantly associated with someone in particular, assuredly not anything off-the-shelf.

"I don't even know your name." he said suddenly, pulling her out of her reveries.

She hesitated for a moment as her lips parted to form the first syllable of her name. She wasn't certain that she wanted to tell him... Then he'd tell her his, and they'd start talking about their jobs. Her job... Part of the reason she had such a hard time relating to other people laid in her job. Highly-paid, temporary, technical... The demand for analytic database programmers was high, but the need for permanence was not... Some men were turned off by the pay; others by the ephemerous nature of it... Others just didn't like women who were smart on that level. In any case, she had learned through the years that talking about her job wasn't the greatest turn-on for guys.

"You're going to miss your stop." she said after a few moments, with all the subtlety of a ton of bricks. He turned, smiled shyly and headed off, obviously confused by the sudden turnaround of the situation.

"I'll see you tomorrow..." she said, cut off as the doors noisly clamped together. The train stayed put for about a minute to unload the large crowd; eventually, Liz's companion got off and headed toward the stairwell to the outside, perpendicular to the front of the commute. He walked slowly, stuck in a bottleneck of hurrying passengers.

Liz bit her lower lip as she stared out the window at him. She damned her social ineptitude and regretted the cold parting words. Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she knocked against the window with her bare knuckles; it was made of a plastic compound which apparently made little noise on the outide, but plenty on the inside. After a few seconds of increasingly hard knocking, a few of the outside crowd, including her nameless companion, turned to see what the racket was about. Liz froze, then reached for her PDA. It took a few seconds, but as the train started moving and the crowd thinned, she stuck her PDA against the window.

For the first few seconds, Thomas stood still, wondering what she was up to. Then, a few words started scrolling on the digital assistant's screen, slowly at first but picking up momentum. He squinted, trying to understand what seemed like gibberish from his perspective. A fraction of a second later, he realized she was holding the PDA upside-down and he smiled at that. It took a few moments for his brain to decipher the upside-down message, but he eventually figured it out, just as the train entered the tunnel: "I'll be thinking of you too."