While waiting for his train in a train station diner, a demure but good looking blonde sits across from him. John cant help but imagine her asking him to do her right then and there.
It was Wednesday February 15th, 17:15 p.m., and John Ventura is a commuter, waiting for his train to take him home from an unnamed train station in Chicago. He was waiting in the small station diner because he was having a bad day, and that happened to include his usual train leaving just before he managed to get inside. A cup of hot coffee was sitting on the table in front of him and his newspaper was opened and in his hands when he heard a friendly, soft spoken female voice: “Is this seat taken?”
John looked up from his daily and, behind a small-framed pair of glasses saw a pretty little face, belonging to a blond female of what seemed to be about 29 or 30 years old. Light red lipstick, just a bit of mascara and a small bloom on her cheeks. The blond, curly hair was pulled tightly back to where it was bound by an elastic band, and the rest of the hair hung from the back of her head in the form of a ponytail. The body underneath this head was well shaped. It was slim, but not in the starving supermodel sense. A well defined front, somewhat wide hips, and long legs. The woman carried a purse in one hand and had her jacket wrapped double and hanging over the other. She wore a beige blouse, tucked into a loose skirt of the same color which reached down to about knee height. Aside from that she was wearing flesh colored nylon stockings and brown, suede pumps.
Within a second, John estimated that she was probably a secretary, or an accountant or something along those lines. In any case she was most likely a somewhat mousy, maybe shy lady who would probably let go of her inhibitions when liquored up to the brim, but then again she may have been someone who simply wouldn’t ever get really liquored up in the first place. Maybe a juice, and that was it.
But mousy or not, she looke... Læs hele novellen
