Every day the same. Get ready for work, drive to the train, get on the train, ride into Manhattan, get off the train, walk to work. Rinse repeat.
And then one day, a man named Clark walked into my train car and sat down beside me, and everything changed for the better. It's hard to remember which one of us addressed the other first but it wasn't long until we had established a regular, friendly routine. We spoke about work, about our spouses, about travel, about politics. We spoke about everything and anything. Clark traveled a lot for work over seeing the regional restaurant empire of a well known chef and so there were long stretches – sometimes weeks at a time- where we didn't see each other. I found I'd grown accustomed to his company and missed him in his absence. Good friends are hard to find and good commuting friends are even harder. You spend 2 hours a day every day with the same group of people on the train but typically don't hit it off with most other passengers.
It was during one of these long stretches apart that summer turned over to autumn and the days grew colder. It's my favorite time of the year. I love the scent of wood burning in the fireplace and I love the feeling of the leaves crinkling under my feet. I especially love to wear my stockings and garter belt with high heels to work, which are perfect for the cool autumn mornings. When I wear them I feel sexy and powerful. From all outward appearances I'm wearing ordinary pantyhose like any other woman; only I know the secret hidden under my skirt. I find I hold my head up a little higher when I walk down the street and I am more confident in meetings at the office.
I was sitting in my usual spot on the LIRR one recent Monday morning in Autumn when Clark strolled my way.
"Long time no see stranger", he called to me from down the aisle.
I gave him my best smile as he moved closer to me. He sat down next to me and smiled in return. He looked great and I was glad to see him. We began to chit-chat and catch up on the latest events in our lives since we'd last spoken. Throughout our conversation though I noticed he seemed a bit distracted. I was more than a little offended because we're supposed to be friends and friends give each other due attention when conversing. It wasn't until about 20 minutes into our conversation that it dawned on me he was sneaking glances at my upper thigh. I followed his gaze and noticed that my skirt had ridden up my leg, exposing the top of my stocking and the clasp of my garter belt. Up until that moment I never considered the possibility that Clark could be sexually attracted to me. He seemed like such the straight shooter when it came to his marriage and while I often found myself fantasizing about him in those little moments alone in the bath, I never assumed he saw me as anything other than his commute companion. Over the next few minutes I watched his gaze return again and again to my thigh. It was such a turn on. He was clearly hooked on the view and I felt even more powerful than I did from wearing the sexy clothes. He wanted me. He wanted me. My smile widened as I turned this delicious reality over and over again in my mind.
A few moments later I took the strategic opportunity to turn toward him slightly; just enough to provide him a perfect viewing angle of my black lace demi bra that I wore under my low cut top. I watched with pleasure as his eyes now trailed from my thigh to my breasts and back to my face. Over and over he rotated between these views. All the while we discussed ordinary events. I was disappointed when the train pulled into Penn station and it was time to go our separate ways. It was nearly impossible to get any work done that day as I sat in my office thinking over the morning's turn of events with Clark.
Our fun was just beginning. Each day that week he appeared on the train, found his place beside me, and devoured my body with his eyes. Each day I tried to open myself up to him a little bit more. My signals and hints became more decadent. By Friday I thought nothing of casually draping my arm across his thigh mid-sentence or absentmindedly stroking my neck with the hand of my other arm. I measured my progress in seduction by how visibly difficult it became for him to focus on our banal conversations.
He remained on my mind every hour of that weekend. I lay next to my husband but when he put his hands on me I thought about Clark. I fantasized that Clark was thinking of me also as he lay with his wife.
On Monday I took the game up another level. I took more than a dozen self-portraits in lingerie on my camera phone early that morning at home and when Clark sat next to me on the train I tuned in and out of our conversation as I reviewed the photos on my phone.
"Sorry to be a bad conversationalist today. I'm working on an special intimate project.", I said to him.
I knew this would get his attention.
If he wasn't already looking over my shoulder before my remark, he was definitely doing so now. I was very slow and deliberate with my pace in moving through the pictures, rotating the images, cropping one, adjusting the lighting on another, pretending not to notice his attention on me. I could hear his breathing slowly progress to a heavier rhythm beside me. Hooked! He was absolutely hooked. I had him in the palm of my hand. My confidence swelled and I was already wet, aroused by my own sexual prowess. I grinned from ear to ear in victory, I couldn't help myself.
Clark leaned in very close to me. I suspected that he might be so far over the edge that he would try to kiss me. That wouldn't be a great idea in public. You never know who knows someone who knows someone who knows my husband or his wife. I panicked for just a moment, my smile collapsing. But he didn't try to kiss me. He leaned in even closer, brought his mouth near my ears and whispered to me these words:
"I know you're very proud of yourself Julia. I know the game you've been playing and I know you think you've won. Every day last week you thought you were controlling me, manipulating me, teasing me. You were so fucking full of yourself it never occurred to you that I saw right through you and was playing the game as well. I'm an excellent poker player and in this game of sexual poker I'm the best there ever was. And now it's my turn to show you who has really been in control this whole time."
Slowly he drew his head away from me and when I looked at his face I saw that his jaw was tightened and his eyes were steady and serious.
I was anxious and incredibly aroused at the same time. He didn't say another word to me the rest of the way into Manhattan and I didn't speak to him either. Too afraid to break the spell of the moment.
