of the
breakfast sandwich which probably killed her.
Go to her.
Looking towards the newsstand, he sees a young
brunette staring at him, so he goes to her...
CHAPTER 2:
It can be described only as luck that the
train she needs to be on arrives just as she reaches the platform,
coinciding perfectly with the pace of her gait. The doors part, she
enters, the doors close behind her, and the train takes off. The
station which it departs from is calm with nothing occurring which
can deemed unusual. Commuters bustle to and fro accordingly, in no
particular rush, patient and unhurried. The ambiance at the scene
being the exact opposite from the one she heads to, the same one
she had only but a small chance to take in the first time
around.
With the train speeding through the tunnel,
she takes the time to check her appearance. Using the reflection on
the dark windows of the train door, she fixes her hair, puckers her
lips, and applies a layer of gloss with her middle finger. She
would fix her breast, but one quick glance at them and she can
easily tell that they’re fine the way they are. Readjusting the bad
boys, as she sometimes refers to them, would only draw unwanted
attention to their superb quality. Having had already surveyed the
train scene upon entering, she knows there is no one riding which
she would even give a second thought about placing her “bad boys”
on display for. The only exception would be for a young,
flat-chested teen; and best believe that the sole purpose for this
would be to stir envy.
Suddenly a thought crosses her mind. She opens
her purse and retrieves a stack of business cards from it. She
shuffles through the card looking for one in particular. After
she’s scanned the small deck three times, she accepts the fact that
the specific card she searches for is missing, but gone it is not.
It only takes a few moments for her to realize where the card had
made it off to. The fault for its misplacement belongs to her. Just
minutes ago, she had given her business card out. Unfortunately,
she had given out the wrong one. The one she had lost was a very
special and expensive prototype of sorts.
She should be more concerned. Yet she’s
relaxed and at ease. There exists not a single doubt in her mind
that she’ll have the special business card back in her possession
soon enough and, with it, a bonus for her business. Not that the
present is the appropriate time for a side venture. But since
everything today is going according to her plans, and she’s running
early, she figures, why not. What could possibly go
wrong?
No more than ten feet away, a young boy, about
thirteen years of age, watches the woman. He is awe-struck,
completely consumed by her beauty. Also, as all boys his age, he is
inexplicably horny for no particularly good reason. It is a good
thing that he only sees her reflection, as he might not be able to
handle her beauty face to face. Still facing her own reflection in
the dark window, she puckers slightly so as to accentuate her full
lips more so than the gloss currently does. Her gesture, done
without knowing that a youngster was looking on, adds a sultry
expression to her already remarkable gorgeousness. The simple act
is enough to get the boy hot and bothered. She takes notice of his
fidgeting and looks away from her own reflection and towards him.
He blushes as soon as their eyes meet. A bulge begins developing in
his trousers which he attempts to conceal by crossing his legs and
folding his hands over his lap. However, he takes action a bit too
late and his erection is seen, in the briefest of glimpses by the
lady’s inexplicably trained sight. She rolls her eyes and chuckles,
turning back to window. It’s humorous to her, but not the least bit
flattering. She couldn’t care less that this pre-teen boy finds her
hot enough that a slight lip puckering induces an instant woody.
Her narcissism rationalizes that the boy would have to be a little
fruitcake to not have an erection at