Unrestrained Desires

Chapter 1- Don't judge a book by its cover

Sarah was an unsightly woman, she really was. You mightn't believe me having never laid eyes upon her but let me tell you; curdled milk. Johnathan was just as unsightly. No, perhaps more so. He had hair growing out of the tops of his ears, and occasionally, food would remain suspended in his beard for such a lengthy period of time that it would start to smell. Sometimes when he and Sarah brush past me it turns into a fun little guessing game of what they had for lunch on Saturday (no not that Saturday- the one before it). To reach that stage of disrepair in central London, really is quite an achievement. How he hasn't been thrown out of M&S yet when he does his weekly shop I'll never know.

I'm not against ugly people- really, I'm not, and anyway, Sarah and Johnathan aren't really ugly, just... used. Yes. Used and not properly put back in the box for next time, just sort of left out gathering dust. Like the banknotes from monopoly that never quite find their way back to the right slots. With the right kind of care I think they could be reintroduced back into the working world, well, of course they both already have jobs, stale and unimaginative ones I would presume, but I reckon I could totally get them a promotion if they let me take over their lives for a couple of weeks.

They're married you see, quite fitting, I know. They get the train with me to work every day. Sit in the same seats, have conversations that begin in the same mundane ways- for example, yesterday morning Sarah said "You did remember to feed Bernard didn't you Johnathan?", and she has said the exact same thing (or something along those lines) exactly 52 times this year, and that's only on the 7:45 express train. Bernard is their cat, but if you didn't already guess that then I am not portraying to you half as well as I'd hoped.

Despite looking somewhat 'bum-ish', they're not poor from what I can gather, Johnathan's shoes are leather and new looking, and I genuinely believe that he was the intended recipient of them. When Sarah's unruly hair is tied back, you can see these gold earrings that I know are from tiffanies; I have the very same ones in my wish list. Knowing this of course rises questions, questions I fantasize different answers to each morning. Today's particular fantasy involves Sarah being a descendent of royalty, but fighting the pressures of upper class society by intentionally dressing down and marrying someone with food in his beard to piss off her overbearing parents. I mean why else would someone who owns tiffany stoop to such a level? Love? I don't think so.

I shuffle in my seat, the one that always faces Sarah and Johnathan in the third carriage, and straighten out my grey blazer. Let me tell you a bit about myself, my name is Elfine and I'm from Kensington, London. I'd like to say I have quite a fulfilling life; it's certainly perfect on paper. I'm a lawyer for Harper & co , one of the top firms in the UK and I'm very good at what I do. I haven't lost a case, well, ever and I have no intention of doing so anytime soon. My mousy brown hair is highlighted hazel blonde and always in a chignon- a style I perfected at the age of 17 and have worn consistently ever since. I'm 32 and single, but believe me it's better that way, and my divorced mother agrees. The few escapades with men I've had have been short-lived and tedious, and that's only the sex. Their personalities are polite and dreary, unfortunately characteristics I appear to attract in a man. Besides, I'm happy with my life the way it is- predictable and secure.

So every day I catch the 7:45 train into London Euston, work 9-7pm, go home and am safely tucked into bed for 10:30 for an early start the next day. Currently I'm on the train to work, with my tiny cup of espresso and my perfectly painted grey nails. I looked over at Sarah, taking in her baggy jeans, white shirt, and untamed hair, where was she going? Now that was a question I had never asked before, I always assumed that she just kind of lived on the train, but of course she must get off somewhere after my stop. She snuggled up to Johnathan who put his arm around her. I looked away, reminded me of that time I almost got engag..... No. Therapist told me not to dwell. I started picking at my nails and the train jerked suddenly, I looked down, oh great, a chipped nail. Not that it mattered, I'd just have to go to Cindy to get them done again, I needed a good bitch anyways. Cindy is my best friend, and fortunately a nail technician in the hottest nail bar in London- Euphoria, not that I would ever go in there. Cindy brings her gigantic box of scary looking nail tools to my apartment every Friday night, and I supply the wine.

The train began pulling into the station and I stood up, finishing off my espresso and putting the cup in the little bin in the wall. I went and stood by the door with my finger on the open button, cast a disgruntled look at my chipped nail and sent Cindy a quick text telling her to come over later that night. I glimpsed back at Sarah and Johnathan and smiled to myself, reimagining the royalty scenario. The train ground to a halt, my finger pressed the button, and a second later my heels clicked down onto the paved underground floor. This was my favorite part of the day, I had exactly half an hour to get from the station to the firm which meant half an hour of clicking about in my heels like I was Carrie from 'Sex and the City', while window shopping for watches I didn't intend to buy and underwear for exotic boyfriends I didn't have.

I started the familiar route out of the station passing my favorite shops along the way, and found myself passing Ben's cookies, mouth watering I quickened my pace, clickity-clack, cookies can wait until this skirt got a little looser. I glanced at my watch and angled my heels in the direction of the firm.