There will be more parts to follow, I hope you enjoy it and thanks for editorial help from DC29.
The middle aged commuter stood, as usual, a few feet from the platform edge, waiting for the 7.06. He was listening to his MP3 player and studying the overnight emails on his Blackberry. He was also waiting for the young lady to appear.
How long had this been going on? How long had he been structuring his commute around this girl? Six weeks? Two months? He knew it was madness but he looked forward to seeing her. She was probably a year or two older than his eldest daughter. She never acknowledged him. He didn't acknowledge her.
There she was. She was walking down the platform and, as usual stopped about six feet from him. Today she was wearing black three quarter length trousers and trainers. Her top was a tight blue tee-shirt showing her flat stomach and well proportioned breasts to their best. As usual, her blond hair was tied back into a short pony tail.
The train arrived and both she and the commuter got on. He sat so he could keep an eye on her; watch her usual procedure of IPOD on, glasses off, head back; asleep.
She awoke as the train pulled into the main line station. The commuter followed her off the station concourse as they both walked the half a mile or so to the underground station. He followed discreetly. Was she aware he was transfixed by the shape of her bum, so neatly covered by her tight trousers?
They both got on the underground train; same carriage. She assumed her usual position standing in a doorway reading the newspaper. He took a seat.
She got off the underground train a few stops before him and, as he did ever morning, he castigated himself about the madness and stupidity of the situation. It was hardly infatuation. She was a good looking girl that was far too young to even show the faintest interest in an old man like him. Why could he not keep his eyes of her and why did he dream all sorts of erotic and inappropriate thoughts.
That night he left work late. Well to be correct he left work on time and went out for a few drinks with colleagues so by the time he got to the mainline station to get his train home, it was after 10.00pm.
He couldn't believe his eyes. She was standing in the platform waiting to catch the same train. Following the same procedure as every morning he didn't acknowledge her, he got on the same carriage and made sure he could surreptitiously keep an eye on her.
She removed her glasses and fell asleep, something easy to do with the rocking of the train.
The train slowed down as it approached their stop. The commuter rose to get off and realised the girl was still fast asleep. As the train pulled into the station he was confused. What should he do? Should he wake her? If he did it would it acknowledge he knew her? He had to do it.
He gently touched her shoulder. She jumped. "Sorry," he said apologetically, "this is our station."
"Oh thanks," she smiled, gathering her things and getting up.
They got off the train in silence and walked toward the exit.
"Thanks again and goodnight" she said as she walked off into the night.
"No problem, good night" he said.
The next morning as the girl approached the normal place on the platform, she smiled at the commuter. "Good morning and thanks again for last night, I would have ended up at the end of the line," she said with a smile.
"Not a good place to be," he smiled at her. "Anytime."
Every morning there was now a brief smile and an exchange of 'good mornings' but nothing more.
A few weeks went by and one evening there was a horrendous thunderstorm and gales. As the commuter got on the train, he noticed the young lady was already sitting there. They nodded hello and smiled at each other.
As they both got off the train and despite running to the cover, they both got soaked.
"You OK, would you like a lift home?" he asked, amazed at his bravery and feeling like an awestruck teenager.
"I'm fine, thanks." She replied.
He ran to his car and, out of breath, threw his briefcase onto the backseat and jumped behind the steering wheel. He started the car and slowly drove out of the car park, the wipers struggling to keep the windscreen clear enough for him to see where he was going. As he drove carefully along the road, he saw a figure in the distance, fighting a losing battle with an umbrella in the wind; it was her.
He pulled up alongside; "Come on, jump in, this is crazy. Let me take you home."
She hesitated but got in and sighed. "Thanks, I was supposed to be getting a cab, but there was a mix up and there wasn't one for a couple of hours," before adding, "you're very kind, I live in the Heights."
The commuter knew the area, a number of upmarket houses on a private estate about a five minute drive from the station.
She told him to stop outside a big house with an in and out drive. "This is it."
"Can I drive in?"
"Yes of course, sorry."
He drove in and stopped by the front door.
"Thanks again," she said, "you're making a habit of helping me aren't you?" she smiled, hesitating with her hand on the door handle.
He smiled. "No problem, my pleasure. I couldn't let you drown now could I?"
"Can I get you a drink as a thank you?" she said boldly.
"Well yes, thanks" he replied, but wondering if he should have declined.
They got out of the car and ran to the front door.
Inside the hall was large and beautifully furnished.
"Wow, nice place!" whistled the commuter.
"Yes, my Dad is an insurance broker and my Mum a lawyer. They are on a cruise for a few days. Come through. What's your poison? I believe my Dad has some good Scotch."
"That would be nice," he said taking in the surroundings.
