Voyeur

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Another story I have written during the Creative writing workshop at my workplace.

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Voyeur

          I am standing right behind her in a queue of strangers with weary faces and tired eyes. The Skytrain station in the morning is always a hectic gathering of people from different places, all with different destinations on their minds. Some of my fellow would be passengers
are engaged in reading the newspaper, talking on the phone, looking

out on the view of the capital city with dreamy eyes, while some are
just like zombies - still shackled in a slumber of a sleepless night.
          But my eyes, and thoughts, are locked on the lady standing
right in front of me. She is tall and slender, with her high hells making
her only a few inches shorter than me. The tips of her long silky black hair rested the center of her back, and I stood so close to her I could
smell their sweet scent.
          She wore a smart black business suit, with matching skirt that covered her knees. On her shoulder hung a small leather strap which connected to a fashion designed handbag. She gazed ahead and seemed lost in thought.
          I felt the urge to tug at her sleeves, to draw her attention to my
existence, to exchange a few words with her.
          But the humming of the arriving Skytrain was just the excuse
I was looking for, to banish all those thoughts from my mind.

          The lady stood still as the Skytrain finally stop, and the doors
parted open right in front of her. She waited patiently for the people
inside the Skytrain to get off, and then moved inside the train with the grace and elegance of a ballerina in a performance of Swan Lake.
          I followed closed on her heel, and as she sat down on one of the
empty yellow plastic seat, I thank the stars for the empty seat right
next to her, and had no reservation about taking it. She did not even
glance at me, or acknowledge me in anyway, as I settled down between
her and another female passenger. People were still filing into the
Skytrain as I laid back and rested my back on the seat, and my head
on the cold window of the metropolitan transport system.
          My legs brushed against her leg with the gentle sway of the Skytrain, and her legs brushed mine with more movements as the train continued on the winding tracks.
          I felt her hands so close to mine, and how I wish I was able to
grasp them, to hold them, to squeeze them. The warmth of her body,
the smell of her perfume, I was intoxicated.
          I stole glances of her on the opposing windows, behind the row
of other passengers who sat facing us.
          Her oval face was decorated with striking brown eyes, under thin eyebrows that arched perfectly like a bridge over a river. Her petite nose, and lush lips, perfectly placed on her attractive face, made her even more
beautiful. She was still looking ahead, lost in though as if she was still
in a dream or a distant land, and this train trip was a ride on a pumpkin
carriage.

          At that moment I could swear that there were other men who had been looking at her as well, and it made me jealous.
          I wanted her for myself.

          But my time was running out.
          I know full well she was going to leave at the next station.
          I wanted to reach out and hold her hands, to prevent her from
leaving. And I wanted to run my hands through her dark hairs, and to
caress her close to my heart.
          But… alas, I could do no more than to enjoy her reflection on the
window.
          For I know that this is the arrangement that we had agreed to, the
secret life that I had succumbed to.
          It is a painful and torturous life.

          All the longing, the yearning, the lust.

          But what more could adulterers like us expect. We have to hide
our passion, our love, our desire in public.
          And count the hours until we meet again, in a different place,
at a different time.

          She got up silently as the Skytrain pulled into the station.
          And she left, without even a backward glance.
          But I had started counting down the minutes until our next rendezvous already.
         

                                                *****