One Week In October

A Week in October

Part VIII A Ride On The Tube

The wind seemed to instantly chill me to the bone and the rain soaked my already bedraggled hair. I stood motionless looking at the entrance hallway to the building. Finally I rushed up the steps, punched in the security code and I was inside. I hesitated momentarily deciding whether or not to take the elevator, I chose the stairs – one it would further delay my having to see Andy and two even although the building was only one hundred years old the elevator looked , felt and sounded like some medieval iron torture chamber that some sinister individual had built the house around. I started to climb the stairs , eighteen steps between each floor , Andy and I had counted them when we first moved in. Fifty four steps to heaven Andy would say and they were a welcome sight after a hard day at work without seeing Andy, I knew I only had fifty four more steps till I was back in his arms. The bare stone stairs clicked at my every step and the green ceramic tiles felt cold against my hand. I stood outside apartment 3 b and stared at the door, I slipped my key into the Yale and opened the door. There was a deathly silence, I looked around the hallway, something was different, I called out to Andy but there was no reply, I rushed into the lounge, no-one, into the bedroom no-one, back to the lounge , I frantically glanced around the room for a clue as to what had happened when Andy had awoken. There on the coffee table was a folded piece of A4 paper with my name scribbled on the front. Carefully , as if it would break I unfolded the note, before I even read it I knew what was coming, he would say I had abused his trust , humiliated him and obviously the depth of his love for me was not reciprocated and that he couldn't live with that and he had gone to try to rebuild his shattered life.

I read

Dear Stacey

Take it you had gone to Paddy's – we all slept in but should still make it to the airport.

Call you later in the week

All my love

Andy

I rushed back into the hallway the cases and the golf clubs were gone. My God he was on his way to Portugal. Guilt and shame washed over me and tears streamed down my face as I re-read the note. How could I have done this to the most wonderful man I had ever known. I ran through to our bed and threw myself down on Andy's pillow and sobbed until eventually I slept.

I was wakened around 8pm by the telephone ringing in the distance; I jumped out of bed and ran down the hallway only to find the ringing stop when as I was about to lift the receiver. I turned and started to walk towards the bathroom, I desperately needed to soak in a long hot fragrant bath. There was a loud beep from the answer machine and I turned to see the green light blinking in the darkness signalling a new message had been recorded, I walked back and pushed the play button, suddenly Andy's voice boomed from the single speaker on top of the machine.

"Hi Honey, Just me! to let you know I have arrived safely, call you later Bye.!"

He was gone as quickly as he had appeared. The tone of his voice convinced me of my earlier suspicions that he was blissfully unaware that the four men he was now sharing a holiday with had, the previous evening, not only fucked his wife but had pleasured one another.

I headed back to the bathroom and turned on the taps to fill the bath, as the room filled with steam I turned to look at myself in the long mirror - Christ I looked like a two bit whore – stockings in shreds, basque splattered and stained , hair matted , what make-up I had left streaked my face like commando camouflage and dried silver trails led from my pussy all the way down the inside of each leg.

I watched in the mirror as the whores eyes filled with tears and she wept at the sight of me, I felt the pain in her heart, the sorrow in her soul and the sobbing in her breast. Soon she had gone and I lay almost fully submerged in the steaming foamy hot cleansing water, powerful fragrances from the lavender bath salts gripped my olfactory senses and I was hidden from the world under a blanket of soft gentle feminine innocence.

Fully an hour alter I emerged pink and clean, drying myself down and throwing on a bathrobe I wandered into the lounge. I lifted a small squat glass from the shelf above the Hi-Fi and poured myself a healthy measure of scotch from the open bottle sitting on the coffee table, The Macallan slithered down my throat like a velvet ribbon and left a warm glow where ever it travelled. I laid the whiskey down and went into the kitchen in search of my handbag , I gathered it from the worktop next to the sink and quickly opened it in search of some cigarettes, Andy did not approve of my occasional cigarette so it would be a real pleasure to enjoy without castigation. As I pulled the new packet of Rothmans from my bag I noticed something clinging to the cellophane, I pulled it free and read the logo across the top – " Paddy's Café" – I flipped it over and there was the mobile phone number I had told Kings owner to leave with Mac. Wild images of the ATM Kiosk, Paddy's Café and the courtyard played on the cinema in my head. I threw down the receipt and headed back to the lounge, I lit a cigarette with the onyx table lighter on the fireplace and inhaled the smoke deep into my lungs, I held it there for a few moments before exhaling a cloud of drifting mist. I lifted my glass and chased the nicotine down with a mouthful of alcohol.

As my eyes travelled around the room they were suddenly fixed on the thong I had been wearing last night, now abandoned on the floor beside the sofa, I smiled as I recalled the sight of Shaun with the sopping crotch covering his nose and mouth, I reached down and lifted them , they were still damp. I started to giggle at the thought of Paul licking Dons balls and finally I laughed out loud at the thought of the guys suddenly realising I was no longer in the room, I would loved to have seen their faces. My laughter surprised me , I had been safe in my misery, secure behind a wall of self loathing with no chance that my sins could bring me any further pleasures. I headed back to bed and within five minutes was again sound asleep.

At 7:00am the alarm warned me that I had 1hour and thirty minutes to be behind my desk at Drachman and Sadler advertising agency. A position I had held since leaving art school some ten years previously. I enjoyed my job but today I felt less inclined to jump up and start running on the endless treadmill that life in the city brought. Today I wanted fun or excitement or just different or maybe all three. For now I threw the duvet back over my head and lay down, ten minutes later the alarm warned me that I had had a further ten minutes snoozing and that I really ought to get up now. I suddenly felt disinclined to argue any further, after all his reasoning was probably significantly more logical than mine. I dragged my sorry carcass out of bed and wandered through for coffee. With a piping hot mug of Arabica in my hand I went and sat in the lounge and switched on the TV, the familiar GMTV faces burst on to the screen. I reached over and pulled breakfast from the packet and lit it, Inhaled deeply then started coughing uncontrollably. On finishing the coffee and breakfast I quickly showered, applied my face then dressed, I had pulled a navy blue two piece from the wardrobe, a fairly short skirt and a three quarter length jacket, matched it up with a white blouse and a sparkling marquisate rose which I pinned to my lapel, checking in the mirror I was satisfied that I was looking reasonably professional and business like for the days client meetings. I slipped on some shoes, my long Burberry rain coat, threw my hand bag over my shoulder and headed to work.

As I stepped out of the building the wind was again chilling and I pulled my coat tight around me, at the end of our cul-de-sac I turned left onto High Road and headed towards Wood Green tube station, as I passed The Nelson, a real ale pub Andy and I frequented, I wondered whether he was still enjoying his golf or had the guys broken the story. As I passed Dean's Laundromat I glanced in the huge plate glass window – no hunks peeling off their jeans today I thought but then there never was. Into the station I headed for the south bound platform and waited for the Heathrow Terminals tube due in three minutes according to the monitor. It was now 7:35am and the journey to Hammersmith took around 48 mins this left me 7 mins for the 20 minute walk from the station to our offices in Dane Street, late again I guess. As usual the platform was bustling, everyone trying to get to the front to ensure a seat. There was definitely and art in picking your spot, even if you were at the front you weren't guaranteed a seat unless the doors stopped directly in front of you. Normally I chose not to compete in the daily fiasco and resigned myself to standing for the whole journey. The train duly arrived and the lemmings poured onto the carriages, almost last on and I was left standing just inside the door, it was a good day since at least I could lean against the glass wall that separated the carriage sections and hold onto the upright pole that was integrated part of the separating wall , I hated when I had to reach up and hold onto to the handles dangling from the ceiling. We lurched out of the station at the sound of the guards whistle and begun trundling towards the first of twenty stations on the journey. I looked around at my fellow travellers, none seemed particularly pleased that it was Monday morning and that the day ahead my bring opportunities to rise another rung on the corporate ladder. I glanced down to my right through the glass in the wall where a middle aged, pin stripped, financial services type was peering through half moon glasses at a copy of FT, next to him a white Rastafarian student about twenty two, wearing wide weave heavy jacket obviously purchased in Oxfam's Fair-trade section, was trying to sleep. Directly to my left a couple stood facing each other and were clearly extending their early morning intimacies as they kissed and whispered and nibbled at to one another's ear. I watched them for a while and enjoyed the tenderness and affection they were showing to each other, I guessed it was a fairly new relationship. Her head was on his shoulder facing me and her straight, jet black hair shone even in the dim light of the carriage, it seemed unfair that all oriental women did not even have to try to excel in the hair department. Her eyes seemed disproportionately large for the size of her face and the liquid ebony irises were stark against the whites of her eyes , I became aware that she was returning my gaze when she smiled without lifting her head from his shoulder, devastatingly white and perfectly formed teeth sparkled at me and I smiled back, she held my gaze for longer than she should until eventually her partner interrupted and spoke in her ear. I forced my head to turn away and considered what I was feeling; she was a very beautiful young woman. I couldn't say exactly what age she was, another advantage that I thought oriental women have , they seem not to age from twelve years old until around thirty five, the down side of course is that on their thirty fifth birthday they instantly aged twenty two years to make up – or so I hoped.

We pulled into Turnpike Lane station and as usual no-one disembarked, the train was almost full and people were running up and down the platform looking for spaces in any of the carriages, two or three tried to board at our door and the couple next to me were forced to squeeze over towards me, my shoulder was now pushed hard against his and my face no more than six inches from hers. Damn it ! I was definitely attracted to this woman, I wanted to feel her smooth skin against mine, I wanted her lips caressing my face, I wanted her pleasure to be mine. I stared straight ahead of me at the sea of faces, it seemed to me that every race, creed and colour in the entire world was represented somewhere in this carriage. Unlike Andy I welcomed the diversity in our society, it seems to me that if Darwin's theory holds any water then our best chance for long term survival is to access the global gene pool, any lineage that becomes too incestuous will become useless: take the chiwawa for instance. My thoughts were interrupted as I caught some movement to my left out of the corner of my eye, I turned my head to see the oriental woman lift her left hand and place it on her partners shoulder, I watched as she positioned it in order that the heel of her hand was touching me. I glanced up at her face and she smiled, as if held by some invisible beam being transmitted from her forehead, I could not move. My eyes shifted from her beautiful eyes to her full lips and shinning teeth and aback again, I became aware that her hand was slowly, very slowly, moving onto my shoulder, so slowly that the movement would be imperceptible to anyone watching. Her eyes held me and dared me to object, she slowly raised her eyebrows asking me the question – I smiled.

The train started to slow down as we pulled into Manor House station. As the doors opened onto the platform the jostling started up again as desperate commuters tried to force their way on board, as the oriental woman took a step to her right and now stood directly in front of me, her left hand brushed over my breasts and came to rest on my waist, with her right hand she reached up and grasped one of the plastic handles dangling from the aluminium rail attached to the roof of the carriage. Her partner was forced to move behind me and the contour of the carriage forced him to bend slightly to fit neatly between me and the external wall of the train. I looked into her eyes as she pressed her body into mine. The contours of her body slotted neatly as a jigsaw into mine, as she rested her head on my right shoulder I could feel her warm breath on my neck. Her partner was now unavoidably pressed against my back and could hardly move, she stared into my eyes as her hand travelled from my waist down and inside my raincoat, even if I had considered it I was unable to resist. As her fingers made the first electrifying contact with my naked thigh a shiver ran the full length of my spine and my legs quivered, with her finger tips she traced a line up the inside of my thigh until she was almost touching my pussy, she stopped and gently clasped my thigh with her whole hand. I could feel my labia begin to swell and my pussy start to bubble, for agonising minutes she simply held me. The motion of the train made my hips sway back and forth and I could feel her partner's body behind me. Without warning my knees bent involuntarily desperately trying to bring my pussy into contact with her hand – she smiled and a few moments later her finger nails racked over my pussy through my now wet panties, I gasped aloud and slouched forward forcing her to lean hard against me to hold me upright. My now erect nipples were being teased intolerably as they rubbed against her breasts. The train slowed once more as we approached Finsbury Park, as the commuters on the platform exchanged places with some of the passengers on board, none of the three of us made any attempt to move or make space. As we pulled out of the station she leaned over my shoulder and whispered to her partner, moments later I felt his hand inside my raincoat which was split to the waist at the back, he slowly made his way to the waistline of my panties and lowered them to just above my knees, I wriggled slightly and they fell to the floor. A voice in my ear told me to step out of them and as I looked down they were swiped away behind me, almost immediately I felt the palm of her hand cup my pussy and one finger slide easily inside me. For agonising minutes there was no movement as my pussy juice flowed into her hand, then slowly her finger moved in a circular motion tracking around the walls of my pussy and a second finger was inserted. After only a few moments she withdrew and reached down and used her moist fingers to tease and probe gently at my ass. Instinctively I pushed against her fingers and both slid in, slowly she pushed until I could feel her knuckles at the opening and she began to rotate her fingers. After only a few moments she once again withdrew and her fingers traced their way up the length of my pussy to find my clitty, by this time I was close to the edge and desperately wanted relief. A single finger tip rolled gently back and forth over my clitty , just too slowly and too lightly to ignite my orgasm, at this my whole abdomen turned to a warm gooey swirling mess as I teetered over the edge but not quite able to launch my self off into oblivion.

"Tell Marcos to fuck your ass " she whispered

I turned my head to the side as Marcos brought his ear close to my lips and I did as I was instructed. I felt movement behind me and his overcoat appeared at either side of my hips, obviously trying to obscure his activities. I had expected to feel his hand inside my raincoat but was surprised when the head of his rock hard dick nudged at my moist ass, gently I leaned back and he breached my sphincter. The initial pain dissipated into a warm full sensation. The tip of her finger was now exerting more pressure on my clit but was now no longer moving, the increased pressure enhanced my arousal but still was not sufficient to allow release. Gradually Marcos pushed his dick as far up my ass as he could go, I felt his rough pubic hair scratching at my stretched opening, he started to rock back and forth with the motion of the train, dipping his cock in and out of my ass. I have no idea how long this lasted as I was now totally focused on my own orgasm.

"Nina" Marcos said out loud.

With that he thrust deep and froze, I felt his dick swell inside me and the first spasm of the onset of his goal, Nina reacted quickly and started rubbing hard on my clitty, within five seconds my pussy exploded and shot bolts of electricity through my body and into my brain, as my eyes rolled in my head, my head flopped back and my legs gave out, the only thing supporting me was Marcos's dick up my ass. When I recovered Nina's hand was gone as had Marcos's dick – I felt empty and exhausted.

The tube was slowing once more and I was shocked to see Leicester Square platform – I had completely missed seven stations including Kings Cross. I suddenly became very conscious of the other people in the carriage and glanced down to my right at Mr Half-moon-glasses and realised by the expression on his face that he knew ! His mouth hung slightly open and he peered directly at me over the top of his glasses, I smiled – it seemed to snap him out of his trance and he smiled back. I glanced down at Nina whose gleaming smile had grown to consume her whole face

"My turn tomorrow" she said "same train"

I nodded and at that the carriage doors opened and Marcos and Nina disappeared into the crowd, our White Rastafarian also disembarked leaving a seat next to Mr Half-moon-glasses into which I quickly collapsed. As I sat down I could feel the contents of Marcos's balls start to seep from my ass, damn – no knickers

"You don't happen to have any tissues do you " I asked Mr Half-moon-glasses

He jumped, startled, as if surprised that I could speak and was forced to look at me, he mumbled something incoherent and started frisking himself for evidence of the tissues he knew he had. Eventually from his coat pocket he pulled an unopened packet of Handy-Andes and offered them to me, he watched intently as I opened the packet pulled out a handkerchief, lifted my buttocks slightly off the seat and pushed the hanky under my ass. As I sat down I turned and said with a smile

"Enjoy the show ?"

"I… er …. eh .... I "

"By the look of that bulge – I would say you did" I teased

He looked down as the bulge in his trousers was threatening to break free and immediately thrust his newspaper into a crumpled ball on his lap. He blushed.

"I don't reckon you will be able to concentrate on anything much today ! " I laughed

For a while I sat recovering from my newest experience and relaxed. The carriage had started to empty, and by the time we left Green Park the section in front of us had completely emptied and only a few long distance travellers headed for Heathrow were spread out behind us.

"I … eh …. I think you are right" said Mr Half-Moon lifting his newspaper and staring into his lap.

"Never mind" I sniggered " Mrs Half-Moon will take care of that when you get home.

As he lifted his head and looked out of the window he sighed the kind of sigh that a teenager would make when the CD his Gran promised him for birthday turned out to be Val Doonegan and not Van Halen as requested. He suddenly looked like a sad little man with a sad little life. Damn it I thought.

"Unless of course I can help"

It was Van Halen after all – his eyes danced and his smile broadened to a place it hadn't been in a long time. I looked round the carriage to check we could not easily be overseen and lifted my hand into his lap. He stared at my hand as I unzipped him and slipped my hands inside his trousers, moments later I had fished out a reasonable sized hardon and wrapped my fist around it. His eyes furtively glanced around the carriage obviously wary of being discovered. As I started to move my fist up and down his shaft his stare returned to my hand, he watched intently as I pumped his dick faster and faster. Soon there was a trickle of sticky clear fluid running from the end of his cock and as if to warn me of his imminent ejaculation he looked into my eyes, I smiled, the first short spurt of semen arced onto the floor at his feet, his eyes rolled around in their sockets and he held his breath deep in his lungs for fear of alerting everyone in the carriage to his moment of joy. Thirty seconds later it was all over and I was handing him back his handkerchiefs. Just then we pulled into Hammersmith and I kissed him on the cheek and jumped down onto the platform, as I looked back I saw he was staring out at me with that huge smile on his face again and he mouthed the words 'Thank You.' I smiled and disappeared up the stairwell towards the surface.