She trots up as the train arrives, I let her get on in front of me, a courteous gesture, and we sit in familiar seats. I watch her apply her day face ...nd imagine who she might be, where she lives, and with whom. I invent scenarios where we meet, become friendly, and eventually fuck. I sit there every morning, my imagination a fevered mess and a partial erection concealed beneath my folded overcoat. I imagine the first time we talk, our first kiss and touch. Each day, I conjure up a different. I had this sudden urge to hurt her for inviting me here under such false pretenses."I just can't imagine women doing things like that," she said. "Especially to... you know... to each other."I could detect the inflection in her voice. She was so excited to talk about it... It frightened her that she was intrigued and sexually stimulated by it. I knew she would be happy just to talk... to have me describe, in detail, the sexual activity between Inga and myself. She could then, later, go up to. More

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