Saturday, 8 February 2014

Traindom

Evidently I'm not the only one to have the occasional suspicious thought while travelling.

On my way back from Meg Philip's book launch last night (yes, I am one of those), I overheard a young(ish) man enquiring about the train on which we were travelling... or, to be more accurate, the stations at which the train would  be stopping. Akin to the girl who probably had a perfectly innocent reason for being on the train last month, he clearly didn't know where he was going and had to resort to asking me. And when we disembarked, he got off at the same stop as us, and was swallowed eventually by the gathering darkness.

Our conversation eventually turned to this person who we had no right to converse about. My thoughts up until that point had been focused mainly on my growing inability to speak and how the hell I managed to win the "dirtiest joke" competition. But it was Jilly who broached the subject of our man dressed in black.

To be fair, her suspicions were a little more left-field than I. What with his carrying a massive bag that I surmised might be for overnight clothes, I had the "meeting-a-lover" story down to a tee. Jilly, however, pointed out that the bag may have held something more similar to implements, and that with the unassuming but smart(ish) clothes, took a rather different view.

"He may be a visiting Dom," she pointed out. I had to admit this thought hadn't crossed my mind, although I did recall the one conversation I've had with a Domme who did the whole outcall thing.
"Couldn't really be an escort. I don't know many escorts who do outcalls which aren't in a hotel... unless it's a regular client."
"Yes..."
"Yes..."
"Although he could just live around here."
I ran this idea through my brain - the concept that people in London have a non-sexual reason for travelling on trains was, following seven years of sex blogging, totally alien to me.

I mean, really?

He couldn't have lived around here, actually, since he was counting stations and seemed to need a prompt from me to get off at our station. Plus... he had clearly put a lot of effort into slicking back his hair ans choosing his outfit. I do hate to say this, but it all fits.

What am I saying? I don't hate to say this at all! It's brilliant!

3 comments:

Sati said...

I probably would have gone with trainee ninja. Was it a leather bag, or flimsy synthetic? If it was leather, it was full of shuriken and nunchaku. That's why he asked you, he didn't want to draw the attention of a station employee. (Of course the chance of getting your bag confiscated and checked just for asking a question is minimal, but people tend to act illogically when they're not used to carrying illegal things.)

Zebras are much more fun than horses. ;)

Innocent Loverboy said...

I hadn't thought of that. To be honest, the bag looked like a sports bag to me... just bigger than your average canvas. And all dressed in black, he was kind of heading for ninjahood as well.

I am well aware of the whole "carrying illegal" thing. A friend of mine managed to smuggle a genuine Highland Dirk down to Manchester from Glasgow - even when searched for one, at that!

I'm sure zebras are more fun than horses. I've never ridden a zebra, though. Have I made a reference to either?

barenakedlady said...

It looked like one of those old-timey doctor's bags to me - so leather, yeah. Mind you, Sati, I like your ninja theory better than I like my own.

Jilly x