I glance at the clock, bite my lip and swear, pushing my fingers to type faster. Work has taken forever today. God please let me done by 5! Let me catch my train! Please!
With the computer off, desk clear, things collected, I rush out the door, eyes on my watch, sprinting the last block to the train station.
Once there I meet the crowd of evening commuters, but I doubt they have the same reason for impatience as I do.
Three minutes to spare, I squeeze into the already crowded car, but my anxiety does not fade, it only increases.
My pulse matches the speed of the train as an automated voice announces the stops.
My foot starts to tap. My body starts to hum more and more, the tension inside my chest builds and builds.
It is now that I start to count down the stops. My eyes dart to the doors. The doors open.
My heart stops, falls, and there you are.
Trying to swallow I almost fail. This has been going on for a while now...seeing you on the train, the catch is, I see you but you never see me.
You're in your usual clothes, so professional and crisp. Your demeanor is always hidden but I imagine its near blank.
I let my eyes slide down your neck to your shoulders; it's now that you slightly roll them, making the rest of your body follow.
You look tense, I wish I could rub that out of your shoulders for you, or do you have a girlfriend who does that when you come home?
Do you make sweet love to her? Do you fuck her brains out?
With a jolt the train sways our bodies and I watch it swing yours like a pendulum left to right.
Your hand moves from the metal poll to the strap just next to your head.
I catch a glimpse of it and picture it wrapped around my hip as you pound into me. My teeth bite down harder to stifle a moan.
The train stops, a short delay. Panic sets in. My eyes dart around the crowded train. Is it written all over me? Can they see my flushed cheeks? Can anyone else smell how wet I am?
The silence thickens as I look at you again, my eyes still infatuated with your hands.
I will you to turn around...but you never do. How I wish you'd give my eyes something more to see, just a bit more to fill my fantasies...
As we wait a flicker of movement catches my eye.
Slowly, oh so slowly, your fingers in the looping strap curl then relax. Clenching and releasing the loop again and again, not impatient and fast, but slow and deliberate, like one of the many ways I wish you'd fuck me.
Each time you do this you unknowingly wind a spring inside me. I watch. I breathe. It gets tighter and tighter, until my heart starts pounding in my ears. Suddenly your hand fists it and I can't take it.
