The Mouse

Today she will notice me.

She will see my desire for her. She will be enraptured by my love of her. I will look stunning to her deep, green eyes. I will smell exquisite to that delicate nose. I will feel desirable to her long, artistic fingers, to her lips…. But for her alone, no one else. Only she can be allowed to know what I have to offer. This time I must be perfect.

First, my clothes.

Underwear? To be naked under my clothes for that first time she really looks at me? How exquisite. But mightn’t that seem presumptuous? Won’t she enjoy seeing me in my lace bra and panties? Won’t she want to draw out the experience of sliding her strong, slender fingers between the fabric and my skin? Yes. It must be my red lace and silk set. There, laid out on my bed in preparation.

But what to wear over them? A white blouse? Yes, but which? This? No, to severe. This? Just a fraction tight, and almost translucent. Yes. It will show off my lingerie and the curve of my breasts. She will appreciate that. But how can I wear such brazen clothes in public? Everyone will be able to see me.

My brother’s coat. That will hide me until I can reveal myself to her. Yes. That will do nicely. And I can borrow my flat mate Kate’s slit skirt. Then she will be able to slide her hand along my thighs.

Oh, God! If only!

No stockings then.

Imagine her sitting next to me in the train, her hand on my naked leg. So, my skin must be clean. Pure. Not a single hair can come between us. A hot bath. Then tweezers. I have time. I must inspect each layer carefully. By eye and by touch. First my skin, in the mirror. Now the feel, yes. Smooth, soft. A touch of perfume at my wrist, behind my ear, between my breasts.

Now the underwear. Straightened bra straps. Centre the seams of my panties. The blouse. Another button undone? Perfect. My hair, make-up. Simple, understated. I cannot be seen to be competing with her, subtle. Good. She will love what I have done for her.


At the station. Waiting. Another train arrives and leaves. At last, here she is. I can smell her perfume. Look at her. Exquisite. She surveys the carriage, like a queen. Other commuters crowd in around us, filling the seats. It is O.K.. A few stations and the crowd will have thinned. This woman next to me always gets off at the next stop. Then there will be a space besides me. I will have three minutes to attract her eye. To let her see me, properly. To see what I have to offer her.

The crowd has thinned. The seat next to me is empty. Oh God, my ‘tension’ is showing through my bra. I can feel them. Now is the time. My cleavage is waiting under Jack’s coat. It is time to reveal myself to her.

I look out the window, as if staring into space. That’s right. I can see her reflection in the glass, still those beautiful green eyes are roving the compartment. Now, casually, I twist my shoulders towards her. Yes, now let Jack’s coat open. Perfect. Totally innocent. When she turns towards me she will see my profile. My throat. My breasts cradled in my lace bra.

She will know that I have done this for her. She will look. With my face safely looking away she will trace her eyes down to my cleavage. My offering to her. Her breath will pause, as my promise sinks in. Then she will notice the empty seat beside me. She will seize the moment.

She stands up, hesitates, then turns and sits beside me. Still I look out the window. I must not break the spell. I can feel her against my thigh, my arm. The merest pressure through my brother’s coat. The rocking of the train throws us closer together. I feel her warmth now, I smell her perfume. She leans in to me.

Her breath touches my hair as she speaks into my ear. She tells me she has been watching me for weeks. She has felt the connection between us. Still I look out the window. My heart pounding my desire. Her voice, a silken whisper, telling me how long she has wanted to take possession of me. To caress me.

Her nose touches my cheek, I hear her breath me in. “I love the way you smell” she whispers, then her soft, almost moist lips touch the line of my cheek, she kisses my throat, so gently. I feel her breath on my cheek, surrounding my face with her essence. I draw that breath deep into me, through parted lips. The breath she drew in with my perfume, I now have inside me.

Her hand finds the widening gap in the front of Jack’s coat. It rests gently on my right breast. She feels my heart beating through the silk and lace and linen. Her fingers slide, passed my cleavage to penetrate between the fabric of my bra and the warm skin of my breast. Still I say nothing, I look into nothing as she caresses my left breast, encompassing it completely in her fingers and palm.

I cannot stop a silent moan from escaping my lips. A pause. The very train seems to have ceased its motion. Please don’t let the spell be broken. Another moment, then the train sways again.

Her hand drops to rest fleetingly on my right thigh. The fingers stroking my knee as she kisses my neck, lips moving down to the hollow at the base my throat. Her fingers stroke the skin of my thigh, moving inexorably up towards the silk panties as her lips move with equal deliberation towards the lace of my bra. Both fingers and lips arrive at their inevitable destinations in unison.

The moment! I will look at her face, nestled against my breasts. At the red hair tangling with the lace of my bra. I will look into her eyes and communicate my months of desire for her.

I turn from the window to catch her eye for an instant, then her gaze continues it’s survey of the carriage. The spell is broken. She is sitting across from me. Staring at a man in the doorway. Two school boys are standing between the seats, learing at my cleavage. I shrug Jack’s coat close around me. I look back out the window, watching houses flash past.

I am exhausted with yet one more promise of what could be. What should be. What one day, must be. A possibility she still has not yet grasped. The train stops and she watches the man disembark. As the train moves out of the station her face loses all expression. Her gaze continues to rove, but she does not notice me.

One more station and she too gets out, followed by the school boys and a fat woman.

Alone in the carriage now. I travel one more stop and get out. I sit on a seat awaiting the next train back into the city. It is due in fifty minutes. I should be home in about an hour and a half. It is getting dark and cold. Lucky that I have Jack’s coat. It was all worth it though. She did see me. She sensed my effort, my love. There was desire in her eyes, for just a second, but it was there. I know it.

Next time I will speak to her. Next time I will make her notice me. Next time she will remember that she did glance at my breasts, for a fleeting moment. Next time she will see how much I love her.

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