Finally, they agree to meet. Noon, beneath the cubed Underground sign that guides travellers to the escalators descending from Euston’s concourse to the Northern and Victoria lines. A part of him had wanted to suggest St Pancras, had imagined kissing her for the very first time as they stood beneath the big clock that overlooked the platforms from its perch high upon the Gothic red brick wall. The interim station imposed by the construction of the Eurostar terminus defeated his streak of romanticism.
He arrives fifteen minutes early, finds a vantage point twenty yards away, stands with his gaze locked to the patch of marble floor beneath the red, white and blue cube. He watches as the myriad of commuters criss-cross before his vision, until he’s almost dizzy at their passage. He only knows that she’s travelling to the capital by train. He doesn’t know the train, the time, which station she’ll arrive at. He doesn’t want to know. It’s none of his concern. All that matters is that she’s coming. Their mutual clock will only start to tick once they’re together. It will cease to run the moment they part. Everything else is irrelevant.
He glances at his watch. She’s late. Is she coming? Has her nerve failed? Did she turn back half way here? Did she even get on the train? And then he sees her, striding across the concourse towards the escalators, long, chestnut hair shimmering, skirt flowing about her slender legs. The click of her boot heels on the polished floor bites into his senses.
He takes a step forward, then hesitates. He swallows hard, then walks over to her, the thud of his heart loud in his ears, the adrenalin coursing through his body like liquid electricity.
“Hello,” he says.
She turns towards his voice, her expression betraying her anxiety when she realises that it’s him. “Hello.”
“Finally.”
“Yes. Finally.”
They stand there, smiling awkwardly at one another, neither seemingly able to move, or even speak. So strange. To have explored such searing intimacies with a stranger, only to falter when the object of your desire is before you.
He leans forward, and places a delicate kiss on her cheek. She smells fresh, fragrant. The scent of her is an instant reminder of the reason that he’s here.
“Can I buy you that drink then?” he asks.
She nods, smiles a little sheepishly. “That would be lovely.”
They take the escalator downwards, and he leads the way to the Northern Line. They squeeze onto a tube heading south towards Morden. It’s a touch clichéd, but there’s a bar in Covent Garden that will be the ideal venue for their first drink. He glances up at one of the distinctive maps fitted to the upper curve of the carriage, and suppresses a sigh at the knowledge that they could just as easily have taken a train to Monument, and then picked up the automated railway out to the Docklands. He knows several hotels out there, perfect for such an assignation.
The train is crowded, forcing them to stand together close to the doors. She stands with her back to him. He stands behind her, holding the overhead rail, fighting confusion, trying to read her body language. Is it just first-time nerves, or the searing acid of regret?
The train jolts upon its trio of rails, rocking her back against him. The press of her buttocks against his loins is electric, agonisingly fleeting. He stands there, knuckles white as he grips the hand rail, knees slightly bent to counter the bumping, swaying carriage. He’s desperate for her to press back against him again. Suddenly, he’s a teenager again, wanting to inch forward until he experiences that delicious sensation of contact once more. But he’s too uncertain as to her mood, her desire. So he stands there, immobile, mind writhing, breathing in the fragrance that comes off her in clean waves like it’s oxygen in a vacuum. Her scent is a wondrous beacon amidst the other odours within the packed train. He has to fight hard to stop himself bowing his head towards her hair.
And then it happens again. The train jolts, and she rocks back against him. This time, the contact lingers. He can feel the twin globes of her arse through the thin material of her skirt. His reaction is almost instantaneous, utterly inevitable. His shaft stiffens, lengthens, rebelling against the confines of his trousers. He dreads the moment when she’ll step away, restoring the gap between them. She doesn’t move. She just stands there, her buttocks seemingly accepting the increasing presence of his cock. He can almost feel his length aligned between her taut cheeks, being gripped, milked by them. It’s such a minimal connection, and yet his eyes flicker closed with the exquisiteness of the sensations.
The train stops at Tottenham Court Road. Some travellers shuffle off, more squeeze on. She takes half a step back, seemingly to counter the encroaching hoards. Now the whole length of her is aligned with him. He can sense the lightness, the suppleness of her body. He remembers how she looked on camera after he’d persuaded her to slowly undress for him, watching raptly as she gradually unveiled her creamy nakedness to his gaze, and the memories excite him further. The possibility that he will soon see the glorious reality of her up close makes his hands tremble, waters his mouth. He feels so hard. He hasn’t felt this hard with a woman in an eternity.
There’s the lightest of touches against his leg. He glances down, sees her hand resting against the outside of his thigh. For a moment, he wonders if the contact is unintentional, and then her fingers begin to draw random lines up and down his thigh. Her hand slowly tracks inwards, and for a second, he feels her finger trace the outline of his cock. Shivers of pleasure ripple along his spine. Her hand returns to tracing patterns across his thigh. He reaches down and lets his fingers rest against the back of her hand, enjoying the absent movements, the smooth coolness of her skin. As she strokes him, he strokes her, a sensual synergy to their diminutive caresses. He feels a shiver pass through her, and she presses herself even more firmly against him, her arse wriggling deliciously against his aching cock. For a moment, he thinks that he hears her whisper the word “Yes.”
It might just as easily have been a sound made by the train.
The thought reminds him of their surroundings. He glances around the carriage. Have any of their fellow travellers noticed them? He doesn’t think so. But why should they have? After all, they’re just two people, standing together, travelling to one of a hundred destinations. Why should the fact that she’s pressed against him, that their hands are slowly entwining, signify anything? No one here knows that they’re married to different people, that they exist in different words, living disparate lives. No one knows that this is the first time they’ve ever met in the flesh. No one knows anything of the lust and the desire that has drawn them here.
The train halts at Leicester Square. “Mind the gap,” the recorded voice intones. The escalators will carry them back to the surface. From there, a short walk will take them to St Martins Lane. He walks towards the train’s gaping doorway, trailing his hand behind him for her to take. If she wants. Her fingernails trail across his palm, and then her hand grips his as they step out onto the platform together.
When he concentrates, he can hear a clock ticking, somewhere in the distance. But that doesn’t matter. Not for the moment.
Tags: Affairs, Sex in Public, The Underground
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Oh my…
I know London so well i can almost picture the scenery. And your abilities enable me to picture him and her perfectly, in my mind’s eye.
As always, though, i want to know more.
Thank you, Minx. It’s always nice to know that - as a writer - you’ve gotten the details right, as well as having created something that holds the reader’s attention and imagination. As to wanting to know more - at this point, I’m not sure what’s to follow. I think I’ll just have to see where my muse takes me next…
~EA
It’s wonderful how you paint the timidity and apprehension of the encounter – and then the growing boldness. You leave it to the reader to mentally finish the story. Yet you have so distinctly pointed us in the obvious direction.
Plus it is such fun to recall the Underground stops you mention, even if the entire time I was hearing the phrase “Mind the gap” in the back of my mind. How appropriate that you then wrote the phrase. It all seemed so authentic, and made me tingle.
Rosie, I’m delighted you enjoyed the story so much, and on different levels. I know that it’s a little less explicit than most of my other pieces. It’s lovely to know that I managed to capture the feelings that you saw through the story…
~EA
…so beautifully written , two lovers , in a world of their own creation, on the brink of something incredibly exciting……I wonder where their passion will take them ? Have you decided yet ? Do you already know ?
Thank you, Isabelle. Where will their passion take them? I have an idea, many ideas actually. I chose the title of this piece very carefully, because I’ve envisaged many facets to this assignation. I haven’t decided anything as yet though. As I mentioned to Minx in reply to her comment, I feel that I’m very much in the hands of my muse on this one. I’m going to allow her to lead me where she wants to…
~EA
I can’t wait to read the next part of this illicit tale of wanton desire. You have me eager to discover what happens next.
Just the feeling I’d hoped to engender, Suze. I’m rather eager to see where it leads myself…
~EA
Wow. It’s quite close to how I imagined it. Except that we’re meeting in a pub close to my hotel since I’ve never been to London nor have I been in a tube. I arrive Heathrow on Friday…
Vanessa, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to lead me astray…
~EA
That was sooo erotic - had me tingling to say the least - Kay
I’m delighted to have been able to add a tingle to your day, Kay…
~EA
More please.
Why is it that I can never satisfy you, EB?
Nevertheless, I’ll do my very best to comply with your wishes, ma’am…
~EA
That was an incredibly arousing encounter. I can’t wait to read more…trembling with antici….pation here.
Thank you, Miss U - I’m touched that you found it a pleasurable read, and I hope that you’ll consider your trembling to have been worthwhile…
~EA
That was sooo erotic! I could feel his cock against the back of my buttocks, you know, that place called “the sweet spot” by lovers of BDSM and spanking or erotic flogging. *sigh*
Delighted that you enjoyed it so much, Linda…
~EA
I imagine there’s a next part, but even so that doesn’t matter because this is magical all on its own and gives new meaning to the phrase regarding first impressions. Its sensuality reaches out, one reads it and can feel the other hand almost. Beautiful.
As always, you humble me with your praise - thank you, Ana…
~EA
Ohhh yeah! I can imagine tracing those mindless fingers on his pants.. gives me lovely shivers ! Thanks for a delicious story!
You’re very welcome, Lea…
~EA
This is my favourite of yours because it feels the most real of them all.
I was tricked (or perhaps not) into thinking that it’s something you recently just went through. Whether or not you really did, it makes me excited…not so much sexually in this post, but excited for the lovers - for what they have already experienced, for what they are experiencing, and for what they have yet to experience.
It’s lovely. The entire thing.
Thank you so much, Joanna. I’m pleased you enjoyed it so much…
~EA
Like everything else that I have read of yours, I loved this one. Your writings read just like a book. A very erotic book. I read constantly… and I enjoy your work as much (if not more) as many published authors. I know I have said this before, but I think you are a very talented writer and you defintely know how to turn a woman on
Lucky partner you have!
Sage
Sage, that’s lovely, thank you. And if you happen to know of any eros-oriented publishers…
~EA
I would wager that a good part of your bevy of women readers can’t help but fantasize that it’s them you’re writing about. I’m in that good part. *sighs*
The first part of that complement was wonderful, Ellie. The second part was staggering…
~EA
You did great job by putting in a real background (london). The sequel please… *begging mode on*
I’m glad you enjoyed the realism, Via. As to the sequel - no need to beg. It’s coming…
~EA
Have you listened to swingercxast.com - I think you will find it in accord with your fantasies.
Thanks for the tip, James…
~EA