Donna sat on the train. She wasn't usually this late. She had been to a going away party for her colleague, Tracy. She would miss Tracy. She had even had a couple of glasses of wine with the girls.
The girls had teased Donna about being an old maid. It was true; she had never married or been in a relationship. She had never had the opportunity; she had always been busy looking after her mother. Mother was gone now and Donna was alone. Alone with her thoughts.
People would be shocked if they knew what Donna thought. Alone in the house at night Donna read naughty stories. Donna watched naughty things. Mother would have been cross. Donna liked to close her eyes and touch herself thinking about these naughty things. Things she had missed out on. She had never even seen a real man naked: she had seen Brian next door's penis when he was putting the bins out one morning. It was only a brief glimpse when the wind blew up his dressing gown. Donna thought it was lovely, hanging low from its nest of dark hair. It gave her those special tingles. When she turned away from the window she knew that if she let her hands stray, she would find herself wet. Very wet indeed.
Donna closed her eyes on the train. She felt warm and fuzzy; she should never have had that last glass of wine. She stirred when she realised that someone was now sitting opposite her. She wondered why he had chosen that seat when the rest of the carriage was empty. He looked at her and smiled. She smiled back. It was a nice smile. He was an ordinary-looking man in his early fifties, with glasses and a bit of dark stubble, but it was a kind face. She noticed his wedding ring.
Donna was good at seeing things; when you were quiet, you became very observant. Donna noticed everything. She noticed his grey suit, shiny black shoes and expensive watch. She noticed the silk tie he had loosed around his neck and his dark chest hair just poked through the top of his open white shirt. She saw the big bulge in his trousers.
She looked away, shocked. Donna wasn't meant to notice things like that in real life. She was only meant to see things like that in her dreams and fantasies. Involuntarily, she squeezed her legs together. She was trying to stop the tingling, the feelings. She couldn't feel those feelings here in public.
He spoke then, "I can see you looking," he said. He had a deep voice. Donna liked voices. They fascinated her. Donna liked a deep voice. Donna thought that was sexy. Something to do with the resonance did something to Donna at her very core. Oh dear, there were those feelings again. She just knew that she was wet now.
Her companion just smiled. It was a lovely smile. He pulled a bottle of water out of his bag. He offered it to her, and she declined. "You don't have to be embarrassed. You can look if you want, " he said, shifting in his seat so her eyes looked down again, "I don't mind. I like it. You can see it if you want, but you must ask. I can't show you without asking; it wouldn't be right."
"But you're a married man," Donna suddenly burst out. "That's why it wouldn't be right."
"I am a married man, so I said you can look. I didn't say you could touch now, did I? I could look at you, too. I wouldn't touch, though; that would cross a line."
Donna didn't know what to say; she knew this was her chance, perhaps her only chance, to see a real man. She could have felt scared, but she didn't. He wanted to expose himself to her. He was telling her that she had to ask. He was respectful; he wasn't scary. He was sexy, though; she needed to hear him speak again; she liked it.
