Train Stories – Contagious. 

As we got on the train together she bumped me for a moment then I held back and let her pass as gentlemen do.

She was just that little bit pushy, her need or urgency to get in and grab a seat seemed greater than mine.

She’s sitting across from me now.

Late 40s, long dark hair, slim, probably a bit too slim.

Yep that’s right, being too slim is a real thing.

Personally I don’t know many guys who like skinny women.

Slim is good as long as there is shape, curves, hips, tits, arse.

But not too curvy, not curves on curves. That’s just excessive fat.

I know this one guy who was married to a skinny girl with a straight up and down boyish figure.  Continue reading “Train Stories – Contagious. “

Train Stories – Basic Instincts?

She’s a very attractive woman.

Particularly when you look past her subtle make-up and realise what age she is.

I’d guess that she’s late 40s, her long dark hair tied back showing her pretty features although the lines under her eyes give the game away.

She’s dressed to thrill, classic rather than trendy. Her dress reminds me of the one that Julia Roberts wore to the polo match in Pretty Woman, only this has black polka-dots and is fitted rather than flouncy and accentuates her shapely figure.

She sits with her legs crossed, the increased tension and her recent fake-tan, emphasises the muscle tone in her legs.

Those are great legs.

She is directly opposite me ten feet away with the entrance foyer between us.

We are both sitting on the aisle side of a bank of three seats and as the train is relatively quiet we have an unencumbered view of each other and it’s difficult not to get caught looking never mind making eye contact.

Occasionally our eyes meet as we both look up and forward at the same time then just as quickly we look away.

I mean, we are on a train, what’s going to happen?

Continue reading “Train Stories – Basic Instincts?”

Train Stories – Talking Italian?

I’m sitting on the train this morning,   two Italian guys get on and sit behind me.

How did I know they were Italian?

Cos they just looked Italian,  a couple of good looking tall tanned handsome dudes .. stylishly dressed with no sign of the Mafiosa suits.

They are in mid-conversation and I can’t help but hear one guy telling the other ..

“First Emma comes … then I come .. then 2 asses come together ..then I come again .. then the 2 asses come again ..then I come again .. then pee twice then I come again”

I wasn’t the only one with a bemused face listening in.

Then the other guy says

“So thats how you spell Mississippi?”


 

Good old Chic Murray jokes .. made me smile!

Train Stories – Unwanted Attention

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It’s Friday night and I’ve been out after work with some colleagues, a few drinks to celebrate the end of my project and people moving on elsewhere.

By 1030pm, I’ve had enough Peroni that safety my switch kicks in and it’s time to head for home.

I wander down to Argyle Street station heading back to Cambuslang.

The train arrives almost immediately and I board and notice that although it’s sparsely populated each booth is full apart from one at the end.

That will do for me!

As I get to the booth, I notice on the opposite booth a guy about 30,  dark cropped hair,  quite tall,  just a little bit chubby.

I take my seat and face forward,  pulling out my phone to check any messages.

Someone says “How was your night?”  and I look round and the guy is looking at me waiting for a response.

It seemed rude not to reply.

“It was fine mate” and I look back at my phone.

Note the use of the word “mate” .. courtesous, friendly even although the context was brief and dismissive .. i.e. I’ll be friendly but I don’t want to talk.

“Did you do anything special?”

Continue reading “Train Stories – Unwanted Attention”

Train Stories – Einstein?

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I see him every day .. well every working day for the past 6 months .. on the 8:39 from Cambuslang to Argyll Street.

People really are creatures of habit.

When I get on at the left hand side of the carriage,  he’s always standing guard on the closed right hand doors.

He’s oblivious to the world,  headphones on and staring at his smart phone.

But he’s guarding the doors on that side because he likes to be first off the train at Argyll Street then rushes to the stairs and the ticket barriers before any of the crowd gets there.

If anyone gets in his way he jostles past them,  then rushes out and off up Miller Street.

He never smiles.

Mid-40s,  quite a fit looking guy,  bald on top and shaved at the sides to finish the look.

Better than than being bald on top and a comb over .. right guys?

Ask any women if you are in doubt,  get it shaved,  don’t be a bald top, hairy sides.

I wonder if his baldness is why he never smiles?

Better grey hair than nay hair?

I usually sit on the first bank of seats,   on the aisle as the windows seats are taken.

I’m a creature of habit too.

But what I’ve noticed about this guy is that he wears the same suit every single day.

I mean every single day .. isn”t that just bizarre?

Not even a dress down Friday like today were most of the office punters are wearing jeans.

His suit is showing fair signs of creasage ..  he’s defintely been wearing it all week.

Do you think he is doing that thing Einstein that did?

According to the urban legend,  he bought all his suits to be the same and didn’t wear socks,   so that he didn’t waste valuable brain-power thinking about what to wear and his socks only got holes anyway?

Nah can’t be .. he’s wearing socks .. I wonder if these are the same ones too?

It’s Friday,  thank feck .. meeting the boys after work .. they want to watch the football.

I’m a Celtic fan,  I really couldn’t care less about the Euros.

 

 

Train Stories – Battles?

  

So .. I’m on my usual 1707 from Argyll street to Cambuslang.  

A ten minute journey and the trains packed. 

There’s one seat left, rear facing and I grab it. But as I do, I notice the guy sitting in the adjacent seat is playing the territory game.  

He’s not the tallest guy but he’s broad. His shoulders take up the full seat, but it’s his elbow and knee position that are positioned to prevent anyone sitting in the seat next to him. 

His legs are wide and his elbows are out, infringing on the space of the adjacent seat .. ie mine. 

Now convention, manners, common courtesy dictate that you at least try to accommodate your fellow passenger, making some effort to pull your legs in, at least letting your them take the space that’s theirs. 

But not this guy!

Not even when I caught his eye as I sat down and said excuse me, that seemed to make him all the more determined to stand his ground.  

So I’ve sat down and typed this, ignoring him completely. 

Well as completely as you can with an elbow protruding towards your chest!  

My elbow is on top of his protecting myself. I’m sure he can feel the pressure as much as I can.  

A battle of wills ensues in a silent war of attrition. 

I love it. 

Now he is using the wall of the carriage to push against me.  

I’m not really pushing against him just making a point of sitting within my space. 

I’m still typing, headphones on, head slightly nodding with the music, a smile on my face. 

But its fake, purely for show, the look of I’m not bothered, I haven’t noticed you pushing me .. Honest!

But I’m ready to go to battle ..  

Or I would be if I was that bothered about it, I’m just enjoying the battle of wills. 

This guy is a dick, all he had to do was pull his knees and elbows in and avoid any conflict. 

It’s my stop in a few minutes ..

I wonder if the guy will get off at the same stop. 

If a more physical battle will ensue?

Will I leave without saying a word?

Maybe give him a knowing smile?

Or should I accidentally on purpose stand on his toes then apologise profusely?

Just home from work,  as I open the door,  the talking heads are blasting.  

My daughter making dinner,  a cup of tea ready for me.  

I wonder what she wants?  🙂

Train Stories – Double Ds?

  

Or maybe in this case … Buy the bra! 

When is it wrong to stare at a women’s breasts?

Or should I ask … When is it right?

She is sitting directly in front of me now on the 1707 from Argyll Street.   She’s early 50s, round face, functionally cut, home-dyed hair, size 20. 

She’d probably describe herself as curvy.

Hhhmm! 

From the logo on her tight polo shirt, I can see that she’s works in retail at one of the bottom-end clothing stores. 

I’m trying not to look, but you know that way that you just can’t help but notice somethings, then once you do then you can’t stop staring, or at least stealing a furtive glance asking yourself are those for real? 

I’d guess that she has size Double D breasts, not that large for a woman of her size. 

But what caught my eye is that her bra must be a size C at most and half of her boobs are spilling over the top as the material struggles to hold her in.  

She must have bought this bra many years ago or has recently gained a lot of weight and not updated her underwear drawer. 

Now like every other red-blooded male on this train I like breasts, we are programmed to look and appreciate. 

But somethings are just wrong! 🙂