One Fourteenth

Warning - This story contains scenes of a deviant nature. I warned you. I know you’ll probably read it anyway but I have warned you :-) 

So you are there, on the underground, standing, minding your own business. The train has just left one station and is racing towards the next. You have exactly 43 seconds of space. 43 seconds in which you will not have to move out of someone’s way. 43 seconds in which you will not have to reposition yourself to let someone pass. 43 seconds in which you will not have to have someone brush against you to get off. Or brush against someone yourself as you battle to leave the train. No, you have your space around you, the space you have negotiated from other passengers, bargained and bartered for at the last station. Now you have 43 seconds to lose yourself. To think about your job or the orgasm you had last night, or what’s going to be on the lunch menu. But suddenly you are jolted from your thoughts by a touch; a human hand touching yours. You jump and look accusingly at the perpetrator. How dare they invade the space you have won for yourself? How dare they break the treaty of Charing Cross station? But there’s nothing to worry about, all it is is a fellow commuter trying to renegotiate the fragile peace. Trying to win themselves more space, more room to launch the attack at Convent Garden. The invader looks at you and mouths I’m sorry. It was just an every day commuter in a horrible pinstriped suit, your heart stops racing, it was just an accident, no harm done, no reason to worry. Just two random hands touching and then untouching. An accidental liaison like so many more in the past and in the future.

Or was it?

Or maybe you are on a bus. Happily listening to your iPod. Happy that you have a seat and the traffic is moving freely. You’ll only be five minutes late for work and that can be explained away by traffic. By the time you have made a cup of tea and chatted to everyone in the office the first half-hour of the working day will have passed unworked. Only seven and a half hours more to fill. The bus is filling up, standing room only. You hope they’ll be no old folk so you will not have to relinquish your seat. You quietly pick sleep from your eyes and idly let it fall to the floor. The bus turns a corner and you feel a hand on your back; fingers scratching. You look round to see an apologetic face belonging to a body in jeans and a T-shirt standing behind you. The arm is holding on to the back of your chair and you realise the touch you felt was just that person needing to hold on to something as the motion affected their balance. The instinctive reaction of a standing passenger.

Or was it?

Maybe it was me!

You don’t know me. If you saw me, you probably wouldn’t notice. What would you see? I’m tallish, light hair, tired eyes. Usually dressed in a suit for work but occasionally in jeans and a T-shirt, if we have a ‘casuals day’. I’m presentable and smart, perhaps the hair is in need of a trim. but you could take me home to your mother. But maybe our paths have crossed and maybe, just maybe you have given me the sexual satisfaction I crave.

Do you live in London? Do you travel on the underground in our great capital city? Or on the buses on our clogged up roads? Have you been touched, accidentally, fleetingly, barely noticeably? Well maybe, just maybe your assailant was me. And if it was, then thank you. You can never know what you did for me.

Have you ever got pleasure from sneezing? They say that it’s one fourteenth of an orgasm. That little shiver of pleasure after a sneeze, that shudder of something. You never knew why it felt so good? Well now you do; one fourteenth of an orgasm. It’s not accumulative though. You can’t save them up. Fourteen sneezes in a row doesn’t leave you needing to clean up more than just your nose. No, but the pleasure is there all the same. That’s how it goes with me. A little touch sends that shiver down my spine, that one fourteenth, that feel good sensation. It makes the journey to work pleasurable and no one gets harmed.

So next time someone just touches your hand, or your shoulder or your arm. Take a look, is there a shiver, is there a look of satisfaction on your assailant’s face? If so, then I’m pleased to meet you.