That's A Date

The Stare

The train pulled in to the station, and the squeal of brakes pierced Lisa's tiredness. Her head still felt a bit fuzzy as well, after those rum and cokes in the pub last night. She thought she should probably stop going out during the week, but she still hadn't got used to being in the house alone, even though it was months since she and David had split up. Anyway, there was literally almost nothing else to do in her village. But it did make for long days at work the next day.

Lisa stumbled up into the train halfway along the platform, and turned left, heading for where she normally sat. There was someone in the second set of seats along, where she often liked to be. Surprised, pulling herself up short at the last minute, she plonked herself down in the set of seats on the opposite side of the aisle, resting the back of her head on the cold window and glaring at the interloper.

It was a young woman in a smart, navy blue dress. Her long, fair hair was partially held behind her head in a red clasp. She was staring out of the window and picking absent-mindedly at a nail, where her hands rested in her lap. Her nails were painted light blue, Lisa noticed, the same shade as her cute but plain shoes. The belt round the pinched waist of her dress was red, like her hair grip. Lisa liked the attention to detail. It was simple but effective: the girl looked co-ordinated, which made her look organised and efficient.

She was in her twenties, Lisa guessed, and attractively homely rather than really pretty. She was about Lisa's height but with a curvier figure. Lisa had always been a bit on the tall side but thin – this girl wasn't big at all, she just seemed to fill her dress much better than Lisa had ever filled one of hers. Actually, Lisa thought, running her eyes over the girl quickly, she had a great figure: full, round boobs; a trim waist; long, full legs.

The girl picked at the hem of her dress where it lay across her demurely-clasped knees, and Lisa noticed a pretty ring on her left ring finger. She looked a bit young to be married, Lisa thought, but then again, why not? Some people did. Just because she herself was almost 33 and newly single (again!) didn't mean other people couldn't find happiness in their mid-twenties. Or maybe the ring was just a pretty ring and didn't mean anything.

Lisa closed her eyes for a moment, and felt some of her hangover go away.

As she looked back across the carriage, there was a flicker of movement in her peripheral vision, as if the girl in the navy dress had moved her head. She took a moment to check, but the girl was definitely looking the other way, staring out of her window. She watched the girl smooth her dress hem unnecessarily, letting her fingers rest on her knee, and then reach up with her other hand and touch her small, dangly earring. Lisa watched the red glass catch the light between strands of the fair hair as the earring rolled over her fingers, and she marvelled again at the girl's colour co-ordination. Some of the looser strands of the girl's hair brushed the front of her dress as her hand moved under it onto her neck, and Lisa watched the girl's elbow lightly brush the curve of her breast. With a little twinge of jealousy, Lisa was obliged to admit that they were very good breasts. Her own were nothing special but looked OK with a bit of help from a good bra – but this girl had pretty much perfect tits.

For a tiny moment, Lisa wondered what perfect tits looked like, and whether this girl's husband/fiancé appreciated his luck.

The girl turned her head slightly, and Lisa automatically flicked her gaze up to her face. With a jolt of embarrassment, she met the girl's eyes, and knew that she'd been caught staring. She flushed and dropped her gaze quickly, and the girl turned back to look out of the window.

Knowing she shouldn't, Lisa looked over at her again – but she couldn't help catch the reflection of the girl's face in the window. Their eyes met again in the glass, for a long second. Lisa blushed fully, and looked away again hurriedly, then glanced back. Yet again, the girl met her eyes in the reflection, blinking once, and for a split second Lisa thought she saw the corner of her mouth twitch.

Fuck, Lisa thought, and shifted in her seat to sit facing forward. How rude, to stare at a stranger on the train – and even worse to be caught at it!

She knew she was normally a lot subtler, and blamed it on her morning-after fogginess. Maybe that was why she was so interested in this strange girl in her normal seat, as well? Because someone commuting to work didn't interest her this much, normally.

That, and the fact that the girl had amazing breasts, under her perfectly co-ordinated outfit.

Lisa rubbed her temple and decided that the last rum and coke last night meant that she should now stop trying to analyse herself this morning. The girl had good tits and awesome dress sense, and that was good enough reason for Lisa to sneak little glances at her in appreciation.

The girl suddenly crossed her legs, meaning she had to twist in her seat, towards the inside of the carriage. Lisa glanced at her shoes again (they were pretty shoes), then casually ran her eyes over the rest of the girl: nice legs, good figure under the dress. The girl's hand slid over her thigh to flick a nail across the hem of her dress, as if she was concerned by the fact that it had ridden a touch higher up her thighs.

Lisa noticed that the girl actually did nothing to realign her dress, and realised that the only purpose of such a gesture was to draw attention to her legs, and the lie of the dress over her thighs. She glanced over the girl's knees and the angle of her shapely, tightly-crossed legs. She watched the girl wiggle the foot of her upper leg to reorientate it in her direction, and loosen the shoe so that it dangled off her toes.

Instinctively, Lisa felt an irresistible urge to mirror the action. She twisted further round in her seat and crossed her own legs towards the girl, ineffectually tugging down the hem of her scruffy button-through denim miniskirt. She rubbed her palms on her thick tights and was relieved to see, when she glanced up, that the girl was looking away again, out of the window.

Like a fool, she briefly checked the girl's reflection in the carriage window, and flushed as their eyes met again. This time, the girl definitely smiled.

Lisa looked away hurriedly, and used the distraction of the train pulling into a station to stare out of her own window for a few minutes.

Once the train had got clear of the station, she risked a glance back at the girl. This time, she caught the girl looking at her – after a split second, the girl dropped her gaze, and reached up to run her fingers through some of the looser bits of her hair. Lisa also looked away, but glanced back to see the girl fiddle with her earring again, and then they caught and held each other's eyes for a couple of seconds.

Awkwardly, they both looked away.

Lisa only looked back when she noticed a slight movement out of the corner of her eye: the girl had slipped a hand between her tightly-crossed thighs. Her other hand was still stroking the ends of her hair.

Lisa glanced over her, and wondered if it was just her imagination that the girl seemed to be breathing quite carefully.

The girl was making a point of looking out of the window, but Lisa checked, and their eyes met and held in the reflection. The moment was only broken by the guard calling out the destination station, which seemed to break the girl's spell. Lisa watched her sit up in the seat and gather her stuff together, then pull a smartphone out of her handbag and check something on it.

She'd uncrossed her legs, but was still angled towards Lisa. She glanced over and smiled quickly, as she tucked her phone back in her bag. Then she stood up and smoothed her dress down, picked up her bag and made her way out of the seat to stand near the carriage doors.