Trains

I stood inside the train, responding intently to work-related e-mails with my Blackberry, when a pair of sweatpants came into view. I put the phone down and slowly looked up.

A plain white t-shirt that struggled to contain his massive pecs and biceps. A beautiful face, with tailored stubble that framed his luscious lips. That peaked side crop that everyone seems to be sporting these days.

He was such a vision that my eyes had to retrace their steps, before settling on those sweatpants that left little to the imagination. I had to remind myself that it was rush hour and my officemates could be in the same car.

I buttoned my coat, which was a size too small but framed my torso nicely, and pretended to use my BB to be able to continue staring. It took every ounce of restraint to keep myself from snapping away with the phone's cam.

I'd like to think that it was the handsome suit, rather than the heavy drooling, which got him to take notice. He would steal glances, but I continued to ignore him, which further stoked his interest.

The doors slid open to the sound of loud beeping. The guy looked up at the blinking light on the train network map and realized it was his stop. He quickly rushed outside before the doors shut tightly behind him.

I edged closer to the doors, as he turned around to face me. I placed my hand on the panel that separated us. The train started to move, but I still held his gaze, until all I could see on the glass was my own reflection.

Charot.