It had been a long day. The station was virtually deserted. I had ten minutes until the last train left; mercifully it only made two stops before mine. The whole journey would last no more than forty minutes. I bought a coffee from the Starbucks stand and made my way through the barriers to the front carriage. It was empty, and I headed to a pair of seats at the far end, slumping into the window seat.
That was when the lights went out.
The destination indicators were still working, and the engine was turning over, so I assumed it was just a fault with the lights. In fact I was grateful of the dark. I sipped my coffee, burning my mouth and swearing out loud. I placed the coffee on the window table and sighed. Things couldn't really get much worse. I slumped back in the seat and closed my eyes. As the train pulled out of the station, and headed out of central London into the suburbs, the clacking of the tracks and the shifting light from the windows was almost hypnotic. I drifted off.
Ten minutes later, the train jerked to a halt. I opened my eyes, and looked out of the carriage at the first stop. At first, I thought the platform was empty, but just as the doors were about to close, a couple jumped through, laughing loudly. I groaned inwardly. They were obviously drunk, and I shrank lower in my seat, hoping desperately that they wouldn't see me. I have a habit of being cornered by domestic disputes on the last train home. People just can't seem to stop talking to me. I guess it must be the doctor in me, an innate approachability.
Luckily, they didn't seem to realise there was anyone else in the carriage. The guy was tall, at least six foot two, and well built. He had the chiselled features, and dark hair and complexion of a Mediterranean, and even I recognized the sexual magnetism he projected. The whole effect was enhanced by a navy suit and open-necked white shirt. The girl was also tall, probably five foot nine or ten, equally dark haired, but pale of skin and with the soft Irish accent of the Republic. She was stunning: slim with long legs and a tight backside that would have made an athlete jealous. She was dressed in a black blouse, unbuttoned just far enough to reveal the pale swell of each breast, black mid-thigh length skirt, and black patent leather shoes with a three or four inch heel.
Her laughter was like liquid gold. Standing between the carriages, she pushed him up against the glass partition and kissed him, hard. He responded immediately, grasping her black locks, bending her head back and kissing her neck. She squealed, pushed him away.
Come to this side of the carriage, this side of the carriage, I prayed silently.
She grabbed his tie, and dragged him behind her, straight to my side of the carriage.
Thank you, I whispered to a generous God.
They fell into the seats a couple of rows down from mine. The train clattered on through the last of the suburbs, into the Buckinghamshire countryside, the pair of them illuminated by the light flickering through the windows.
I knew you would never forgive me if I kept this to myself, so I reached gently into the case next to me and took out my compact digital camera. I checked the battery level and turned on the screen, desperately hugging the camera to my jacket to mask the sound of its activation. I needn't have bothered. Looking at the couple further down the carriage, they seemed oblivious to their surroundings. I turned on the night shot mode, aimed the lens between the seats in front, and zoomed in. The view was amazingly clear given the low light level, and yet again I marvelled at the technology you can buy for three hundred quid. I pressed the record button.
The camera safely wedged between the seats, I leaned sideways just enough to get a better view.
The girl had her left thigh over her partner's lap and was kissing him like it was the last day of her life. His hands ran along her spine, ruffling the silk of her blouse, and then down again, grasping her buttocks and forcing her closer into his embrace. She ran her hands along the sides of his face, her tongue exploring every inch of his lips, tongue and mouth.
I had seen many couples enjoying kisses and even some fairly heavy petting on my many late night journeys home, but this was different. There was a level of intensity about this pair that was electrifying. I couldn't take my eyes of them, and I could feel myself getting hard. Given the fact that this train didn't stop for another thirty minutes, and with luck, would have no lights for all that time, I had a feeling I was in for quite a show.
By now, she was astride him on the seat, her skirt riding higher up her thighs as she ground her groin into his. He tugged the blouse from her skirt, and his hands disappeared beneath the silk. I could imagine the feel of her cool skin, goose bumps rising along her back with the excitement of the moment.
Her head fell back, and he bent forwards to rain kisses along her neck. She leant further back, giving me a clear view of her fantastic cleavage. In my mind's eye, I saw the still image I would capture from that fraction of a second's video footage. Her breasts were framed by a low cut black bra that was becoming increasingly visible as he undid the buttons of her blouse. In the intermittent light from the windows, I caught brief glimpses of her dark, erect nipples through the sheer fabric. For a brief spell of about ten seconds, it was like seeing her in an old-fashioned black and white movie. Then the surreal quality of the image was replaced by a more constant warm, orange glow as the train tracks ran alongside a main road.
