Saturday, 16 July 2011

Two Long Hours

She squirmed on the
prickly train seat
uncomfortably aware how
short her skirt was, that she
lacked underwear, had a
curiously shaped bulb of
plastic in her rectum, could
smell her own arousal, had
nipples like
chapel coat-pegs, felt
every eye on her like a
kiss or a slap, that
both were welcome if the
stranger she was meeting
so desired and that it was still
two long hours
from London.

No comments:

Post a Comment