As the train pulled out of the station, I worked my way through the rear carriage. I had barely made the train, with only seconds to spare as the doors started to beep their intention to close, I slipped through breathing heavily. The taxi had been late, traffic had been hell and the crowds to get through security full of clueless tourists.
My mind had already shifted gear to now concentrate on the board meeting in Paris and the fight to come, as I moved along the aisle. But there was obviously still some dark recess of my mind, watching and always alert, which noticed your painted toes tapping along to some unheard beat.
They were delicately encased in an opened toed high heel, both the nails and shoes oozed class while the chain around your ankle is at odds with the rest and stops me in my tracks. As I followed the curve of your ankle and leg wrapped in fishnets, thoughts of passing you by and taking my first class seat evaporated.
I throw my overnight bag and briefcase down, slipping my jacket off and sliding in to the empty seat opposite you. As I sit down, you glance up, the final shafts of the summer evening light playing across your face, catching your strong features, the light glinting in your eyes.
You hold my gaze for a second while a slight grin passes across your lips as you pointedly look over at the rows of empty seats around us. I quietly kick myself for my lack of subtly but decide to brazen it out.
I smile back broadly, letting my eyes flick down to the sliver of flesh on display beneath your shirt, the lace frill visible where it gapes open. As I raise my eyes again, you return my stare, no hint of shyness, no shrinking violet, you slide one headphone from out of your ear.
‘Like what you see?’ you say, quietly, coolly. You don’t wait for an answer but slide the headphone back in and return your attention to your Blackberry. The only hint of what you are thinking is the subtle way you bite your lip as you bend your head back to your task.