It's the damned machine's fault...
The elegant lady, somewhere in her early forties, put the train ticket in her handbag as she descended the escalator to Platform Three. It was mid-afternoon, and she had plenty of time, arriving early for the 3:15 train to town. She was due to meet her husband at his office, and to buy themselves an Anniversary present, and then dinner and a hotel afterwards.
The station was sparsely occupied with perhaps a dozen other travelers dotted around the four platforms, so she was alone herself. She wandered up the platform, mildly wondering at which point she should wait for the train to arrive, when she noticed a brightly-chromed weighing machine in the center of her platform. She stood in front of it, looking at the 18"-square plate to stand on, and the four-foot-high chromed tube that held the square head of the machine that looked like a computer screen.
The scrolling-notice on the screen told her
"I speak your weight and your fortune. Insert a quarter now for all to be revealed."
Hmmm? She thought and wandered on. Then, changing her mind, she went back to the machine, stepped on the plate and inserted a quarter into the slot. The machine buzzed for a few seconds, stopped its scrolling and then a computer-generated face appeared with a voice speaking to her.
"You are 135 pounds; five feet eight inches tall and are catching the 3:15 train to town to be with your husband."
She gasped; how could it know this?
"In a couple of minutes, you will also fart, and then in about fifteen minutes you will engage in some illicit, erotic sexual coupling!"
Again, she gasped and almost jumped off the weighing-plate of the machine. Shocked and angry, she stared at the screen as it went blank, and resumed the scrolling of the original message.
Angry at the statement of the machine, she was even more surprised as she walked away, when a little 'paarrp' emitted from 'down below'. Now embarrassed, she looked around to ensure that nobody else heard, and she was glad; most of the other travelers were on the other platforms and she was still alone. Recovering slightly, she thought about what the machine had said, and reached into her purse for another quarter. Still slightly hesitant, she went back to the machine, stood on the weight-plate and dropped the quarter into the slot.
Again, the machine stopped its scrolling message and the face appeared.
"You are still 135 pounds; you are still five feet eight inches tall, and now, in about eleven minutes you will engage in some erotic, illicit sexual coupling!"
Again, she almost jumped back off the machine's weight-plate, and now somewhat concerned, walked quickly away, her mind running wild. She needed somewhere 'safe'; where could she go? And, as if her prayers were answered, she saw the sign. LADIES ONLY WAITING ROOM. She almost jogged the twenty yards to the little building set in the center of the platform's buildings.
Quickly, she stood at the door for a last look around for her safety, and then barged into the room, knocking over a step-ladder with a young man on it, pushing him to the ground, and, even worse, knocking over the paint pot, from the ladder where he was painting the inside wall of the Waiting Room. The young man was on his knees where he had fallen, and she realized that she had splashed some paint on her new shoes and her legs.
As he rose from the ground, she couldn't help but notice his physique; he was possibly 25 years old, wearing a white T-Shirt and jeans and he was quite handsome. He was apologizing profusely, but she hardly heard him, she was in such shock. He turned reaching for some cloths, and kneeling again, told her to support herself against his work-bench, while he cleaned the paint off her shoes. Which she did, automatically obeying him. His hand went to her calf and she lifted her leg while her removed the shoe.
She stood, leaning against the bench while he cleaned off the paint, fastidiously ensuring that all the paint was removed. She watched in silence, unsure of what was happening. "You have some paint on your leg; let me clean it off also." And, he gently held her leg as he wiped the residual paint off. The paint had splashed up to her knee so, he dutifully held her calf again, as he washed the paint away. He needed something to dry her off, and without thinking, pulled off his white T-Shirt to ensure that she would be dried off properly. She was struck dumb. His broad chest and shoulders were SO close to her that, as he stood she could smell his manliness.
