An Intentional Show?

A short account of a recent train journey back from work to my home in south London.

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It was a hot London evening and I was on my way back from town, finishing off some work on my laptop at the far end of a soon-to-depart train carriage. My attention was drawn by a young women rushing on to the service, clearly aware of its imminent departure. She hopped on the train and looked around, our eyes meeting briefly before she began noting the arrangement of passengers and empty seats. She almost settled on a seat near the doors, before changing her mind and coming to sit on the opposite bank of seats from me, across the aisle.

I glanced over as she was putting her long brown hair up into a high pony tail. You wouldn't call her beautiful, but she was undoubtedly attractive; big brown eyes and a lovely figure; small, pert breasts, a slim waist and long legs. She wore a short beige skirt and blue tank top. Her expression was intriguingly aloof. Once her hair was fixed, she began to idly browse her phone.

I returned my attention to the screen, keen to get my work done before getting home. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that her knees were slightly parted and her skirt had ridden up, revealing her inner thigh and an inviting shadow between her legs. I was distracted...and getting turned on. I glanced her way with renewed interest, keen to know - and see - more, but quickly returned to my work, not wanting to make her uncomfortable by being too overt.

Despite my fingers moving on the keyboard and my head facing the screen, my mind was now focused on my companion. Slowly, as if sensing my fascination, she shifted her body and placed her right leg over her left, affording me - out of the corner of my eye - a very brief glimpse between her legs, before they came to rest, pointing in my direction. I allowed myself a long glance up her delightful body, before returning to my screen. Just moments later she repeated the movement in reverse, carefully unfolding her legs and leaving them very slightly ajar. Aware of the rarity of such delights, I allowed myself to be slightly more overt, glancing directly between her legs. My cock hardened as I tried to make sense of the shadows; was that her pubic hair or a very faint pattern on incredibly sheer lace panties? Either way, I was transfixed.

Barely a minute passed before she shifted in her seat again and slowly, deliberately, lifted her right leg over her left, briefly allowing me a more prolonged view between her exquisite thighs. She must have known what she was doing, surely? There was no awkwardness, no attempt to hide herself from my increasingly unsubtle gaze. Yet still I felt unsure. Deeply aware of not wanting to misread the situation and make her feel uncomfortable.

I looked over, this time taking in the details of her face. Soft features, big eyes and an unreadable expression. She turned her attention from her phone, met my eye and held my gaze for several seconds...but gave nothing away. No accusation. No uncertainty. No hint of a smile. Nothing.

I was trying to concentrate on my work, simply to give my eyes somewhere to rest other than on the space between her legs. It was no use, I just had to look, to drink her in. She shifted in her seat again and this time I was going to take my chance. As she slowly uncrossed her legs I glanced over and was rewarded with a clear view between her thighs. Long enough to set my heart racing, to get my cock throbbing, but not long enough to tell if she was wearing sheer panties...or none at all. Her legs settled, knees slightly apart, allowing a clear view right up her thighs to within millimetres of her pussy.

Her continued lack of awkwardness or any attempts to limit my view or adjust her skirt gave me confidence; perhaps she wanted me to look. Perhaps she was as excited by this situation as I was? I continued with my work, but looked over more frequently, drawn to the shadows between her legs. Should I put my laptop away and allow my hard, twitching cock to signal its appreciation? I mustn't get carried away, there were other people in the carriage. Also, despite not actively discouraging my glances, there was nothing in her body language that suggested flirtation or a desire to take things further.

I continued to enjoy the show, my heart racing and my cock throbbing beneath my laptop. Every so often her shifting legs allowed fleeting glimpses of her pussy, which I convinced myself, wishfully, was bare...and perhaps wet. Who knows what was really happening here, but I was keen to make the most of it; one of my keenest fantasies coming to life on the stopping service from London Bridge.

Then, without warning or fanfare, as we pulled into the next station, she straightened her skirt - pulling it down toward her knees - got up and moved her sunglasses from the top of her head down on to the bridge of her nose , before walking toward the train doors. She glanced in my direction momentarily, expressionless, before stepping from the train and walking away down the platform.