If I were to tell you to "Fuck off" you'd be offended. And rightly so. Yet if I said "Sex and travel" it wouldn't be a problem. One of our foremost sexual fantasies is to join the Mile-High Club. The two main ingredients necessary to join it are of course sex and travelling at a fair height. Joining is near the top of the ordinary Joe's sexual bucket list and I when I found out that a U.S company can make your dreams come true for the knockdown price of $2,000 I leapt at the chance.
But when I turned up, I discovered that you're expected to provide your own partner. So, in fact, three main ingredients are necessary to join it. I decided to lower my expectations for sex on the move to near ground level. Trains may not travel as fast as planes but they're pretty damn sexy. In all the old movies when a couple were about to do the deed, the director would cut to a clip of a powerful locomotive thundering into a dark tunnel at full throttle.
I figured that all I would need to pull off the feat would be a ticket inspector's gendarmesque peaked cap, the stereotypical dark shabby suit, and a clip board. I travelled to the nearest main line station wearing the suit and carrying a plastic bag. I purchased a ticket and boarded the train. Once inside I ducked into the nearest lavatory, removed the cap and clipboard, and carefully folded the bag in order to put it back into a trouser pocket. There was room enough because my trousers were quite baggy So far, so good. And I hadn't broken any laws because I was careful not to actually use the toilet while the train was standing at the station.
Now understanding that there were three main ingredients I knew that I now needed to locate a glamorous and ticketless young lady seated in an otherwise empty First Class compartment. I'd been cunning enough to travel off-peak, so my chances were greatly enhanced. I waited until the train set off and sure enough, in the third compartment I checked I found a great looking blonde.
An elegant lady, probably in her early forties. She wore a short, tight skirt, and high heels. She had fabulous legs. Like a dancer's and although she was wearing a capacious blouse I could tell that she had a great rack. If she hadn't bought a ticket, success was certain. The pressure was on literally and metaphorically. And if you don't know what I mean, let me say it was just as well my trousers were baggy. I made my entrance and cleared my throat.
"I'd like to inspect your ticket Miss."
"Mrs."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Your ticket please?"
She blushed.
Yes! It was my lucky day. I would've liked to run into the corridor and punch the air but cool would be key now and it would have been difficult with boner regardless of the bagginess of my trousers. I looked down at her, her mouth agape in horror.
She began to speak; hesitantly and with a rather plummy accent.
"I'm afraid I don't have it. Erm I was running very late and I simply didn't have time to purchase one... But I'll be happy to pay now."
I could have said.
"I'm afraid that's not going to work madam. Fare avoidance is a serious offence punishable by a hefty fine."
She would then slowly draw her tongue across her lips whilst parting her legs slightly and reply.
"Surely we can come to some arrangement?"
I would become exasperated by her flagrant disregard for the rules of the rail and demand.
"Are you trying to bribe a rail official with sex even though he's performing his professional duties?"
She would answer.
"Yes."
And I would say
"Just as long as we've got that straight, I'll lock the door and pull down the blinds."
All being well we would then add the sex to the travel. But whilst her clothes were plain, they were clearly expensive and her accessories like the compartment were first class. Her shoes and handbag were genuine Prada, her perfume was Chanel, Mademoiselle I believe, and her hair, nails and make-up were immaculate. She was a woman of class who had not had time to buy the ticket that she could easily afford. I would need to be at my devious best to charm the pants off her. So instead I smiled and said.
"Just a moment. You may be entitled to a substantial discount."
Her face brightened up. She looked radiant and replied
"Oh really. That sounds interesting. Tell me more."
Good answer. I now had hope and told her that
"There's 10% off today for ladies with large breasts."
Unfortunately, this didn't have the desired effect. She was clearly affronted and informed me that.
"That's a terribly sexist policy. As an ardent feminist I couldn't possibly take you up on it."
But I was quick to retort.
"Network Rail look on it as positive discrimination."
She was back on track, smiled and asked.
"Why didn't you say? Now you've made me sound like a hysterical women's libber. Obviously under these circumstances I'd be happy to take the 10%.
I frowned and explained that.
"Unfortunately, it's difficult to tell if you qualify in your case because your blouse is quite voluminous. My guess is that by the way its hanging you're very likely to be able to benefit. Am I right?"
With the prospect of a useful saving she was only too happy to come clean about her breasts.
"I try to disguise the fun bags as much as possible because I need to be perceived as a serious businesswoman, but I must confess you're absolutely correct. They're whoppers alright. So, what's the damage after the discount?"
I refused to be rushed and said.
"Not so fast, Madam, you'll need to provide some proof."
She looked at me glumly and replied.
"I'm afraid my husband insists that my exposed breasts are strictly for his eyes only."
But I was ready and demanded with some authority.
"Who said anything about needing to see them both? Just produce one and I'll take your word about the other."
She was delighted with the compromise and exclaimed.
"That's very trusting of you. I'm sure he wouldn't be concerned about merely revealing one for your inspection."
She casually unbuttoned her blouse and produced a huge but perfectly formed tit from her oversized brassiere. I somehow managed to remain composed despite the stirrings in my pants and replied.
"I'm sure he wouldn't. I expect he'd feel very proud to be married to a woman like you. It's a magnificent specimen, more than worthy of the discount. You'd be surprised at how many other ladies wear padding to qualify."
She considered this for a moment and asked.
"Do some of them have breast augmentation?"
I felt that this would be quite a lot of trouble to go to in order to save a few quid on rail fare but needed to come up with something. All I could manage was.
"Yes, though man-made mammaries are still entitled to the 10%."
She appeared to be taken aback and stated indignantly.
"But this is natural."
Music to my ears. I feigned amazement and announced.
"I'm shocked. It's so large, but firm looking. Naturals are entitled to 20%."
