feminine imagination

he was a comely man, handsome not in the way of a pretty boy whose face graces the cover of glossy print but handsome in the way of gentle folk. i had just stepped onto my train, opened my writer's manuscript for editing, and settled into a seat across from this man who sat with an open book. in my attention to the pages i held, i gave him little more than a passing look and instead absorbed myself in my own reading. we were in the quiet car in business class and while most of the seats on the train were filled, he and i were alone in our little section with a small table between us.

from time to time i glanced up to look out my window and in my glancing i became increasingly aware of this man in my direct view. i pretended not to look.

he had great hair, brown hair rich and full and combed back without a part as some mature men are able to wear. even more striking than his beautiful head of hair were his eyes, quiet and gentle eyes that made him look as though he probably smiled often. even in silence and without smiling he appeared to be comfortable, content with himself and his world. he was wearing blue jeans and a shirt reflecting a sports team although i was unfamiliar with the logo. his body was built like a football player and i wondered if he played in his younger years, but then again he also looked as though he could have spent his life building his body in the ways of construction work. he looked strong, and masculine, but in a quiet way, not in a way demanding attention.

i continued my reading but did so now with rich awareness of the presence of this man in my orbit. though we held no interaction, i enjoyed feeling him near. the train made occasional stops and some folks departed while new ones boarded. after a time i rested my head against the window and fell asleep to the rhythm of the moving train. when i awakened i found myself alone, feeling disappointed to see the man gone. suddenly i saw his book still lying on his seat and realized he had gone to the dining car or perhaps the restroom. i found myself surprisingly pleased he was still with me. quite some time later he returned and i continued pretending i was unaware of him.

tiring of my editing, i gathered my papers, stuffed them into my bag, and pulled out my cd player and headset. i closed my eyes and listened to a lovely meditation. when i again opened my eyes i saw him looking at me; he smiled but quickly looked away. rather than a game of pretended indifference it seemed we were engaged in maintaining a respectful distance in our imposed closeness, or so it seemed. even so, i began to imagine myself closer to this attractive man. i wondered what it might be like to brush against him, thought how my fingers might feel stroking his hair. becoming bolder in my own thoughts, i began to imagine sitting on his lap, thought about being carried in his strong arms. i imagined his pressing his lips against mine, first softly and gently, then more deeply, more insistent, exploring me.

from time to time he and i looked out the window at the same time and held the passing view, and it felt to me in those moments we were in the same place; we were together. i wondered if he would be surprised, even shocked, to know how i was beginning to imagine being with him. my body was responding to his presence. i wondered what it would be to breathe him, to feel him, to taste him, to take him in.

again i rested my eyes until somewhere in my dreamy state a soft scent penetrated my sleepiness; i opened my eyes to see he was lotioning his hands. how lovely, how perfectly lovely. now his strong hands were moist and fragrant and i imagined his hands on me, massaging my skin. i thought of his strong hands reaching under and up my cotton blouse, cupping my breasts gently and firmly. i imagined him undressing me, wanting me, pulling me close to him. i thought of how he might have been earlier that morning as he stepped from his shower, dripping wet just before reaching for his towel. this picture of him warmed me, stirred me.

now more than two hours into our journey, the train stopped again and two men with lots of baggage joined our section of the train. one of the men fell asleep and everthing in his lap slipped and fell. my imagined friend and i exchanged a smile as we quietly laughed at the mishap. we held a secret connection and the others became outsiders. the four of us were a bit crowded and the train felt noisier. soon we approached my destination and i awakened the man sitting next to me, climbed over his feet, and gathered my things.

what a pleasant journey this train had been; how lovely it was to imagine the heart of this man who had spent 2 1/2 hours sitting across from me. as i prepared to depart he remained in his seat, not yet having arrived at his destination. as the train came to a stop i leaned down, whispered into his ear, walked away, and never looked back.

photography by permission graham jeffrey