LATE GIRL

Will Hughes (2 May 2002)

Her eyes were beautiful. She had the most gorgeous long blond hair, shiny, clean, tidy, even length with no straggly bits at the ends. She swayed gently with the rocking of the tube train as it thundered underneath busy London streets. He kept looking at her pretty face, then away in case she thought he was staring. He wondered how far she was travelling, where she lived, whether she was single, what kind of music she liked, the sort of movies she enjoyed. He tried to imagine spending time with her. Oh, how those skin tight jeans tormented him. He hankered. He longed. He imagined. She was aware of his leering glances and made up her mind to get out at the next stop, if he didn't. She hated creeps who stared at her like this in public places. It irritated the shit out of her that people like him, men like him, felt no compunction about "eyeing up the girls". He was pretty close to the mark in thinking that she probably disliked being on display, but despite his guilt, he knew he was going to continue stealing glances just because she was so gorgeous. As the train pulled into Regent's Park, where only lost tourists alight, she waited a moment to be sure he was remaining seated, then jumped off just before the doors closed to wait for the next train. He wondered if she might worry that he would be waiting at the next station for her...