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She was there again today.

It had been almost a week since she last appeared, walking down towards me along the station platform, walking on those luscious long legs, her beautiful slim body held erect and confident. On that last occasion she had been wearing a pure white cotton dress which had all but disappeared as she stood against the sunlight at our end of the platform, waiting for the train to arrive. The image of her indescribably sexy profile had burned itself in my brain, the swell of her breasts, the flatness of her stomach, the curve of her bottom; she had stood against the light, turning slightly as she waited, displaying her perfect form to me alone. Then we had exchanged our customary smile and a nod in greeting to each other. The image of her had stayed with me all that day and had been the cause of and the inspiration for my masturbation that night. Thoughts of her standing there in that dress or standing naked before me in my room, gently turning her body from side to side, presenting herself to me. I had fantasised about running my hands over her, stroking, caressing, touching, exciting. My coming that night had been strong and powerful, a tribute to her perfection and unattainability.

I called her ‘Angela’, my angel. We had never spoken, never talked to each other, but each day as we waited for our train we had exchanged a smile and nod of recognition – two total strangers on the same journey. She was flawless, a few years younger than me – probably in her mid-twenties. Tall, slim, elegant with long, flowing blonde hair reaching down to her shoulder blades. She had always dressed immaculately, her sense of style and fashion as perfect as her body. She had a tendency towards sexy styles that would offer a hint of revelation whilst still keeping her modestly covered. Clothes that made you keep watching her, just in case you got to see more than you should. A blouse with a low neckline, a figure hugging skirt with a deep slash in the thigh, tall heels that emphasised her height and made her bottom more prominent as she walked. Yes, my angel knew how to dress, how to hold herself, how to walk through a busy station to ensure that every male head, and quite a few female ones as well, would turn to watch her as she passed by.

Today though, was different. As she hurried along the platform I could see there was something wrong. She didn’t have her normal poise, she was almost hunched over, as if trying to hide herself from sight. Rather than her normal elegant clothing she wore slacks and a t-shirt and had sneakers on her feet. Her t-shirt was crumpled, obviously put on un-ironed, its colour clashing with her trousers. He lovely blonde hair was hanging loose, slightly tangled, only roughly brushed. It kept falling across her face as she walked towards me, and she would push it back sharply, a frown on her face. No smile or nod this morning as she threw herself down into the next bench along the platform from where I was sitting and wrapped her arms around herself, hiding away from the world. Obviously something was wrong, something had happened in the few days she had been absent from our daily ritual to upset the confidence she normally exuded. I was disturbed, upset. This was my angel, my morning vision. I looked forward each morning to her arrival, admiring and desiring her from afar. Like a goddess, she was unapproachable for any mortal, exquisite and perfect, a creature of dreams.

As I pondered the change that had come over her our train drew into the station and broke my attention. The carriage was full, as usual, but we both got seats at on the same row, she facing me, but just across the aisle. I was able to watch her as the train rattled and groaned its way into the city. She was wearing no makeup, another change from normal, and had dark smudges under her eyes. It seemed that whatever was wrong was causing sleepless nights. She sat in silence, hunched over, staring at the floor. Normally she would have been erect and smiling, conscious of the admiring looks she drew, but not acknowledging them in any way. Today, she was withdrawn, her arms or legs twitching slightly on occasions, her lips moving silently as though talking to herself. Sudden, frightened looks darting round the carriage, before she resumed her study of the floor. I was horrified by the change in her, something dreadful had happened to my angel and I couldn’t look away.

The train eventually pulled into the city station and the carriage emptied. She and I carried on a couple more stops to a station on the outskirts of the city and it was this extra journey in an empty carriage that had led to us acknowledging each other and started our daily ritual of a silent greeting. Today, there was just us two and three other people further down the carriage remaining on the train as it pulled away. She continued to stare at the floor, but suddenly, harshly, wiped at her eye with the back of one hand, as if wiping away a tear.

I couldn’t help myself, I had to speak to her. “Excuse me,” I started, leaning towards her, “is everything alright? I couldn’t ankara escort help…’ My words trailed off as she glared at me, a look of pure hatred. “I’m sorry,” I said, sitting back and turning away, “I don’t mean to intrude.”

Her expression softened. “No,” she said, “I’m sorry. It’s OK.” And she turned to look out of the window. A moment later I heard a small sniff, but didn’t dare approach her again.

A couple of minutes later, she turned towards me and opened her mouth as if to speak, but shut it again and turned back to the window. This was repeated twice more before she suddenly blurted out, “are you married?”

I was taken aback. “Err… Separated.” I managed to utter. She nodded and turned back to the window.

More moments passed. “Were you unfaithful?” was barked across at me, accompanied by an hard expression, with narrowed eyes.

“No, never. Apparently, the bonds of our marriage were damaging to her aura and she could no longer feel at peace with her inner spirit.” I smiled grimly at the seat opposite me, remembering that night nine months ago when my world had fallen apart. Sam had been younger than me, a free spirit I should never have tried to hold on to. Our brief marriage had been fun to start with, but had quickly grown into an intolerable burden to both of us.

My angel stared at me, expressionless for a few moments before uttering “Hmm,” and returning to staring out of the window.

We spoke no more until the train was approaching our stop and we stood, ready to depart. Then, suddenly, unexpectedly, she asked “if you were married to me, would you be unfaithful then?”

My mind reeled at the personal, intimate nature of the question. A question that no strangers would ever ask, that broke the rules of polite interaction. I was flustered, and reacted without thinking, “God, no. You’re beautiful, perfect.”

A smile broke out on her face for the first time that day,transforming her back into the angel I had admired for so long. “Thank you for the compliment,” she answered with a chuckle, before her face hardened again, “but that lying, cheating bastard of my husband didn’t seem to think so!” Then, turning she stepped off the train.

It took a moment or two for me to gather my wits and follow her and she was several steps ahead of me as we approached the barrier. She fumbled with her ticket, trying to get it into the machine to allow her to pass through and this allowed me to catch up with her. Her hands were shaking and she couldn’t line the ticket up properly. “Please,” I offered, taking the ticket from her, “let me.” I fed the ticket into the machine and she smiled at me in thanks. I passed through behind her and as we prepared to go our separate ways, asked her “will you be alright?”

She paused, flustered. “I can’t face work today,” she suddenly blurted out. “I thought I could, but I can’t.” Then, turning to me with tears in her eyes, she asked “will you take me for a coffee?”

“Err…” I thought quickly, I had a visitor coming to see me in an hour and a half, but nothing urgent before then. I could arrive late and make some excuse without causing any great problems.

“I’m sorry,” she said, mistaking my hesitation for unwillingness. “I had no right asking you that. You have your work to go to. I’ll be OK.”

“No. It’s alright,” I answered quickly, “I was just working out how long I could be away. There’s a Starbucks just down the road, if you want.”

She smiled, and linked her hand round my arm as we turned in that direction. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry to be a nuisance, I just don’t want to be alone.”

“My pleasure,” I answered, truthfully. Being able to spend some time with my angel was beyond my wildest dreams, a heaven sent opportunity. “My name’s Josh, by the way, and your’s?”

“Ellie,” came the simple reply. “Nice to properly meet you at last, Josh.”

“Ellie?” I chuckled, and she gave me a curious look. “I always pictured you as an ‘Angela’,” I explained, “because you looked like an angel, my angel,” and then I blushed, thinking she may have thought me to be flirting with her.

She laughed, a happy, silvery sound and she squeezed my arm. “That may be just the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time.”

I felt a tingling feeling in my gut. It had been a long time since I had had a girl on my arm, never mind one so pretty as Ellie. She had featured in my fantasies and dreams for so long it was hard to avoid carnal thoughts with her there, laughing and holding on to me.


We sat opposite each other, holding our coffee. I was feeling a little sheepish and embarrassed, not knowing what to say or do. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” I asked, gently.

She smiled a grim, humourless smile. “Not much to tell.” She said, quietly. “Last Sunday he went off to play golf, like he usually does, and I stayed at home to tidy the house and do the washing. Half way through the morning I went into the garage to get something and found his golf bag sitting there. He’d already been gone for over an hour, so it wasn’t çankaya escort as if he’d forgotten it – he’d had plenty of time to come back for it.” She wiped her eye and paused a while. “When he got home, I confronted him. I’d sat there for two hours imagining all sorts of things, trying to think up reasons why he may have left his clubs and why he didn’t come back for them. I was in quite a state when he came swanning back in, a big smile on his face.” She paused again, and I noticed her hand was shaking. I reached across and gently laid my hand over hers on the table. She never looked up, but gripped my fingers tightly. “He tried to laugh it off, claiming he had borrowed a set from a friend. He was trying to escape upstairs for a shower, said he was all sweaty, but it wasn’t sweat I could smell on him, but the smell of sex. I freaked. I ranted, I raved. Finally he admitted it. He’d been shagging his secretary for the last six months. I don’t know what he sees in her, she’s forty, at least, fat and frumpy.” With her free hand she gestured at herself. “Wouldn’t you much rather have me than some old tart?”

Would I? Would a desert nomad like a glass of water? “Of course I would. Any man would have to be insane to not want you.”

She blushed, and looked prettier than ever. “What about you, Josh,” She asked, “What’s your story?”

“Sam left me about nine months ago,” I started to tell her, “she was young, probably too young to get married, but I loved her so much. I think she was a child of the sixties, born forty years too late. A free spirit, wild, exciting. Things were great to start with, but she couldn’t be contained.”

“Was she unfaithful?” Ellie squeezed my hand as she said this, a look of concern on her face.

“Unfaithful?” I considered. “She had many lovers, both before and after we married. I may as well have tried to chain a butterfly to a single flower. Was she unfaithful, though? I don’t think she would have considered it so.” I couldn’t help a note of sadness enter my voice. I missed Sam so much.

“Where is she now?” asked Ellie.

“I don’t know. I had a postcard from Devon about three months ago, but I’ve heard nothing since then.” All the excitement and arousal I had been feeling from Ellie’s presence had gone, Talking and thinking about Sam had replaced it with a hard cold lump in my stomach. I felt my eyes filling with tears.

I think Ellie must have notice this because she sat, letting go of my hand after giving it one last squeeze and wiped her own eyes. “Look at us two,” she said with a slightly forced laugh. “Two old has-beens, washed up and dumped.”

“You’re no has-been,” I responded, “You’re beautiful.”

She laughed, quietly. “I don’t feel at all beautiful today. I must look dreadful. I didn’t bother to get ready properly at all this morning, but you can keep telling me – I may start to believe it!”

“Don’t be silly,” I answered. The clothes and things, they’re just stuff on the outside. You’re beautiful from the inside out. That’s what makes you so special, why I have admired you for months, yet been to shy to talk to you.”

“Have you?” She ran her finger through her hair as she said this, “I think I knew. I used to catch you watching me sometimes – lots of people did that, I know, but you sort of watched me gently, not just hoping to get me naked like most men. I think that’s why I started to choose clothes I thought you would like each morning. I don’t think I could ever have spoken to you, though.”

“Oh, I did my fair share of imagining you naked too,” I laughed, not feeling at all embarrassed to be talking this way. “When you wore that white dress last week, you can’t imagine the effect you had, on everyone, not just me!”

She laughed aloud again, beautiful, charming, happy for a spell. “Oh, I knew. I was feeling a little bit naughty that day, I must admit. Did I show much through the fabric in the sunshine?”

“Everything.” I chuckled. “You may just have well have taken it off. It was a heavenly sight, though.”

She giggled, holding her hand up to her mouth like a little girl. “I was feeling frustrated that morning, I’d woken up that morning feeling horny and had tried to make love to Dave, but he wasn’t interested. I’d even gone down on him, but he didn’t want to finish. I didn’t realise why at the time, of course. That’s why I decided to wear that dress and give you a bit of a show, I suppose.” She paused and blushed bright crimson. “My God, I can’t believe I’m talking to you like this!”

“It’s OK,” I answered, “we’re both grown ups, we know what happens in the bedroom.” I reached out to hold her hand once again. I was feeling distinctly aroused, though. My cock was swelling at the thought of her trying to seduce her husband and getting more frustrated by the second and it was getting quite tight in my pants.

She sat quietly for a second, gently smiling. Then said, as if she had just made a decision, “I’m not going to work today. I’m going to go home and get myself cleaned up. No point in moping round like a slob kızılay escort because Dave’s a bastard. Do you think you could ask the staff to call me a taxi?”

I went over to the counter and asked, making a decision at the same time that I was going to skip work as well. I was already going to be late for my appointment and I would be unable to concentrate properly for the rest of the day. Better to skip it completely and start afresh tomorrow.

I went back to the table and told her. “I’m going to skip work today too,” I said, “do you mind if I share your taxi home?”

Ellie gave me a brief, open look. “No, I don’t mind. I think I’d like your company for a little while longer.”

She excused herself to go to the ladies room, and I made a to call the office, making up an excuse about a family crisis with an elderly relative. She came back after about five minutes, looking a lot more like her usual self. She had brushed and tied back her hair and put on some powder and mascara. She held her head up high and was looking confident and beautiful once again. Not only beautiful, but desirable as well. I felt a stirring in my crotch again, an aching desire, an appreciation of her figure and beauty. I shifted my position to ease the pressure building up and think she knew what it was because she smiled slightly and held herself a little more erect.


The taxi ride home was difficult for me, but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Having Ellie sitting next to me, close enough that our hands and thighs touched occasionally, chatting about nothing consequential, was a delight and a torture. I was sporting a respectable erection and trying to hide it as best as I could, but Ellie kept touching my arm with her fingertips, or would ever so briefly brush my thigh with them instead. She was happy and chatty, all the sorrow and anger from earlier dispersed as we enjoyed each other’s company.

Too soon we arrived at her home, a modern building on the banks of the river. I opened the taxi door for her, intending to continue on to my own home alone, but she hesitated. “Won’t you come in for a drink,” she asked, hesitantly. “I feel dreadfully guilty for dragging you out of work, the least I can do is treat you to lunch.”

I paused before replying, “what about Dave?” I asked, “Is he at home?”

Ellie laughed bitterly. “No, I chucked him right out on his sorry arse. He won’t be coming back here in a hurry. Not unless he’s planning to collect his golf clubs, if he dare. He’ll find them in the bottom of the river!”

That made me laugh. “You didn’t?”

“Too right I did!” Ellie chuckled, a deep-throated sound, full of fun and mischief. “Come on, come on in.”

I paid off the taxi and followed her inside. She paused in the hallway, looking at herself in a full length mirror there. “My God,” she exclaimed, “what was I thinking, going out looking like this, I look frightful!”

“I’ve seen you looking better,” I answered, chivalrously, “but you’ll never look frightful to me.”

“Why, Josh,” she exclaimed with a laugh, “are you flirting with me?”

“No, no,” I tried to deny it, “I didn’t mean anything, I was…”

“It’s alright,” she laughed again, “I’m just making fun of you. But, you do say the nicest things in the nicest ways.” She looked once more in the mirror and shuddered. “I’m going to go and get cleaned up a bit and change out of these rags. Make yourself at home, the kitchen’s through there, there’s beer and wine in the fridge or make yourself a coffee, whatever you like. I’ll be out as soon as I can.”

I called after her retreating back. “What can I get you?”

She answered me over her shoulder, “I’ll have a glass of Pinot, there’s a bottle in the fridge.”

I wandered through into the kitchen, all very modern and spacious. The fridge was huge, with half a dozen bottles of wine in the bottom. I found a Pinot Grigio, a good brand, better than the wines I usually bought. She was obviously well off and I wondered if she would be able to continue in this lifestyle without Dave. I found a corkscrew and took the bottle and two glasses through to the lounge. Another tastefully decorated room, comfortable without being cluttered or ostentatious. A burgundy red chesterfield with two armchairs arranged round a huge oak coffee table in front of a massive fireplace. A deep pile rug in a nice ivory colour in front of the fireplace gave me thoughts of her lovely slim body, wrapped in a silky negligee, lounging on the rug in front of a blazing log fire. Again I felt that familiar tingling in my groin. I thought to myself that I had to get a grip on this or I would ruin a beautiful day. That was not why she had invited me back. I tried to distract myself by looking through her music CD collection. It was an eclectic mix, Motorhead, Slipknot, Def Leppard mixed up with Brahms, Rachmaninoff and Liszt. I picked up a Tchaikovsky piano concerto, No. 1, Opus 23, and slipped it into the player. Sipping my wine and listening to the piano and flutes handing off phrases to one another, with that happy, lilting melody I was lost, reclining back on the sofa, eyes closed. As the first movement drew to its extravagant and unusual ending, I was startled out of my reverie by Ellie sitting down next to me and drawing her legs up on the sofa.

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