The Commuter

Hi I’m Jake. This is where you subconsciously say “Hi, Jake” in response. I’m a pretty average guy on the outside. I think I’m funny, but not enough to garner a Netflix special. My body type is somewhere around athletic. I used to play a lot of sports, but these days I spend more time behind the desk than in a gym. I’m 6’ and around 235 lbs. I have short hair. I suppose I stand out a bit because of my height, but it’s probably because I tend to wear different color shirts. Nothing crazy, just not your typical white or pale blue shirts seemingly every other office workers wears.

On the outside I’m closer to that average guy. But inside, most people would disagree. Some would call me a perv while others would say a voyeur. I don’t know what I would classify myself as. I am far from climbing peoples fences, but if the opportunity presents itself I like to sit back and watch. I guess I’ll give you an example of my adventures if you would call it that.

I spend a good amount of time on the train each day. About 2 hours I’d say. Longer if I miss the express trains. I won’t complain though because it would be worse if I drove and had to sit in traffic. Plus I get to do my favorite thing while riding. People watching. Sure, a fair amount of passengers are regulars, but it’s a long train means a fresh batch of people to watch on any given day.

There’s this one particular passenger who, from what I can tell, has a stop that past mine. It can’t be too far as my stop is close to the end of the line, but she is always on the train when I get on and remains when it’s time to go home.

I would describe her as average on a 1 to 10 scale. She’s not strikingly beautiful, but she is far from hideous, let’s say 7. She has beyond shoulder length blonde hair. It’s usually pulled back or up in a bun. I’ve never been close enough to tell her eye color, but O imagine them being a light blue. I can’t say for sure what she does. I’ve theorized that she’s an office worker, possibly an intern that is taking classes to finish her masters degree. Now here’s the one eye catching detail, at least for me. She always wears a skirt. It’s an appropriate skirt, just above knee length. At first I thought it was just a staple in her summer wardrobe. As the weather grew colder, I found out how wrong I was. No matter how cold it got, she always wore a skirt.

Now, on a normal train where there are just rows of seats this wouldn’t be a big deal. However, on my train there is a second level above the typical rowed seating. The level is split where there is a row of seats on each side of the train. Each seat in the row sits next to each other so the passengers sit facing the row on the opposite side of the train. If you’re sitting in one of the seats there is a metal rail to keep people from falling over down to the first level, an open space so you can see down to the first level, maybe six feet down or so. Beyond that gap is the rail for the opposite row. None of the railing blocks the passengers on the other side. It’s very easy for big groups to talk across the aisle and frequently happens when there are concerts or festivals. That actually reminds me of another story, but I digress.

Now that you understand the setup, I think you know the next detail without me saying. Well because of the capacity of the train, I always sit on this second level. It gives me more space to enjoy my ride. Little did I know it would lead to some fun opportunities.

This particular passenger, let’s call her Karen. I have no idea what her name is, but she looks like a Karen. Karen always sits on the second level as well. One day I noticed that Karen isn’t always aware of her skirt. She sits with her knees together, but sometimes when she’s deep in work things happen. One particular time, I was sitting on one side of the level and her in the opposite. I was just diagonal to her. She was sitting hunched over some paper furiously writing. Her hair was Pulled back in a ponytail. She was wearing a pink blouse and black skirt. I glanced towards her but didn’t think much of it. Then, I noticed her move. She placed both of her feet on the ledge in front of her. I tried not to be obvious, but being the guy that I am, I couldn’t look away. What I saw were her converse shoes on the ledge. My eyes followed her smoothly shaven legs upwards. They took a slight curve at her knees to her paper. She was engrossed in writing. I took in the side of her exposed thigh. Just as smooth as her lower leg. It looked well toned as if she were an athlete of some sort previously. Of course my gaze did not stop there. I drank in all of her exposed flesh. I could see the underside of her thigh now and I could feel my heart’s pace start to quicken. The bottom of her skirt had bunch up a little and I could see…

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