Pick Up the Receiver, I’ll Make You a Believer

Foreword: You may already recognise the title as being lyrics from ‘Personal Jesus’ by Depeche Mode. This story was in part inspired by the song, and in part inspired by a conversation I happened to eavesdrop on while I was travelling on the train recently—it was a pretty regular chat at first listen, but the man’s intonation seemed to lend a different edge to the conversation, even though I was likely overthinking it.

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Pick Up the Receiver, I’ll Make You a Believer

I scan the aisle of the train carriage. People are packed into their narrow seats like sardines. Nobody’s paying attention, as is so typically the case of this time of morning. They all appear to be engrossed in individual activities; reading their newspapers, satisfactorily man-spreading the person sitting to their left, pretending to watch the scenery go past outside when they’re really checking out the person sat opposite. I stand with my back glued firmly to the wall of the vestibule, trying my best to maintain my balance. Ideally, I’d be used to this by now. After all, I’ve been working as an Architect in the City for more than two years already, and I commute by train every day.

Yesterday, the country voted in favour of Brexit—a landslide 52% of them—and everyone’s making a concerted effort to keep their mouths shut about it now. I doubt anybody wants to talk about that stinking pile of shit anyway, not before starting a long day at work. Still, I see a few smirking faces here and there. That’s making me feel more nauseous than the awkward rocking motion I’m enduring.

All those smirking bastards probably voted Leave. Hmm. I mean, what can I really say? In three and a half years they certainly won’t be laughing when they see who our Prime Minister is.

The announcement states that we’re about to arrive at the next station. As the train grinds to a halt, a young woman stands up, grabs her belongings from the overhead luggage rack and her seat becomes vacant. I edge my way towards the empty space, making myself paper thin to squeeze past a group of alighters who are clearly targeting the door. I sit, relieved, and sink back onto the cushioned headrest. I stare up at the strip lights running along the ceiling and blink a couple of times to refresh my vision.

Then, the man in the seat next to me gets a call, a sound so shrill I find myself yanked back to reality within seconds. He’s got one of a flip phone; one of those Motorolas they’re bringing back—well, at least that’s what happens in the future. I want to say this one is clearly a burner phone. I mean who has one of those nowadays for enjoyment?

His ringtone continues to grate on my eardrums as if some tiny elf were inside chipping away at the bone with an equally minuscule pickaxe. It’s utterly deafening in this quiet carriage. The man fumbles to flip the phone open, but eventually manages to do so. Answering it, he covers his mouth with his free hand to muffle the sound.

“Hello?” He speaks in a hushed voice and looks down at his feet. “Are you at the airport?”

There’s a moment’s pause. I find myself side-eyeing him, in some silent demand to hear his next words even before they come.

His gaze still angled toward the floor, I notice the corners of his mouth curl into a wry smile. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” Now the tone of his voice drops, just a notch. “There’s no need to be.”

I position my earphones in place, but I make sure to leave a small gap. This is the part where I pretend to be listening to music. Of course, what I’m really doing is eavesdropping on the man’s conversation, naturally. I can’t help it. I’m the kind of guy who gets incredibly curious about these things. Can you really blame me? After all, us humans have strange tendencies, don’t we?

“I miss you too,” says the man, lightly biting his bottom lip. “I’m just annoyed I have to work today of all days.”

There’s enough background noise on the train that I can’t hear what the person on the other end of the phone is saying, let alone what they sound like. Maybe he’s talking to his wife? His husband? Perhaps one of his friends?

Fuck knows.

Normally I would be more inclined to stream music to distract myself from whatever commotion is going on around me. But not this time. Right now I’m consumed with a deep lust for listening to banality. It’s not like his conversation is even remotely interesti-

“That’s a good boy.”

If one phrase could derail my train of thought in an instant, it was this one.

“I know exactly what you need,” he continues, with a raspy cackle.

The tiny cogs start to turn in my mind. It’s time for further speculation. Is he talking to his son? No, I’m sure that can’t be it; his tone and words just sound far too…sensual to be confused with a family conversation. It feels more like he’s talking to a pet. And I don’t mean your average house cat. I mean like a pet pet. You know the type, an obedient, subservient pet whom only he can satisfy the fantasies of. There’s no doubt this guy has some kind of sexual arrangement in place.

He fiddles nervously with the thin gold ring adorning his finger, as if he’s got an itch—an itch to give someone a thorough rimming. I chuckle to myself at this thought, the idea that he’s actually a hot shot sugar daddy to some other man. I ruminate over the thought that he meets up with some young, strapping twink longing for the touch of an older, more experienced man. I might be entirely wrong about all this. He could very well be married to this person for all I know. But judging from the subtle pitch changes in his voice, and those small yet meaningful gestures, I want to assume—if only for my own entertainment—that this isn’t the case at all.

“Oh-hohoho,” he says through a cheery grin, Santa-like. “You have no idea what I’d do to you if you said that straight to my face.”

What would you do? 

I genuinely want to know his answer. I look over at him, as if I’m expecting him to spill the beans to me. Tell everything to this guy sitting right here. A stranger. Yes, I fully expect that.

But, realistically, why would anybody do such a thing?

The moment the man clocks the fact that I’m staring at him, he slowly turns his head toward me and our eyes align. His contented smile quickly fades. I remove one of the buds from my ear and let it fall onto my shoulder, a clear signal that I can hear him and that I intend to keep listening. We exchange no words, but he acknowledges me with a brief nostril flare and bites his bottom lip again, betraying his anxiety.

He grips the handset tighter and clears his throat. “L-listen sweetness, call me when you get there, okay?” There’s a momentary pause. He laughs nervously, and a bead of sweat forms on his brow. “No, no. I’m fine, I’ve uh…just got a bit of a headache, that’s all.” Another pause. “Of course, I appreciate your concern.” Another pause. “You’re going to be absolutely fine. Just remember to ask for help if you need it.” He waits, breaking into a forced smile. “Okay, I love you too. Bye…yeah, bye.”

He ends the call and flips his Motorola closed, slipping it into his the pocket of his satchel. I’m still staring, intensely, unnaturally. I see he’s trying his best to ignore me as he reaches for the newspaper stashed by his side.

I am relentless. There’s no way I’m letting up.

After a minute and a weak attempt to read the first news story, he turns to me. “Look, I’m sorry if I was disturbing you with my phone call, but-”

“You weren’t,” I say.

“Right, then…” The man scratches his forehead. “May I ask why you’ve been boring holes through my skull?”

“Oh shit,” I laugh. “I don’t have beams shooting from my eyes again, do I?” I shake my head from side to side. “I’ve really got to go and see the doctor about that.”

The man scowls. “What?”

“Your skull is still intact, alright? Am I causing you harm by eavesdropping on your conversation?”

“Well…not exactly, but it is intimidating.”

“Just tell me,” I say, leaning towards him and brushing my shoulder against his. “Who’s this boy you’ve been talking to?”

“Excuse me.” It looks as if his face is going to explode. “T-That’s absolutely none of your business.”

I bring my mouth close to his ear and lower my voice to a mere whisper. “That may be true, but you see…I can’t help noticing the little semi you’re sporting.”

He coughs and immediately scrunches up his newspaper as a means of covering his arousal. “I-it’s not little by the way.” His face is quickly flushed red with embarrassment.

“Don’t take my comment seriously. I can see that even through those trousers,” I say, bringing my gaze back up to meet his and raising an eyebrow. “But…why did you make a point to communicate that tasty morsel of information?”

I can hear the man grinding his teeth as his jaw flexes to contain his apparent rage. “Just defending my manhood is all.”

I chuckle. “Does that boy on the other end of the phone like it too?”

“He’s not a boy,” he says. “He’s certainly younger, but not a boy by any means.”

“Oh?” I nod, acknowledging the point. “Well, that’s a relief. I didn’t want to have to report you to the police for getting involved with a minor.”

He scoffs. “I’d never do such a thing. He’s perfectly legal-”

“Right,” I interrupt. “And you’re paying him for sex?”

“No.” His reply sounds curt and defensive. “Quite the opposite. He’s paying me to comfort him, to give him courage.”

I pause for a second, then lean back in towards him again with a snide grin. “Is that really what the relationship between you two is all about?”

He stays silent. The look of torment on his face is palpable.

“The way you spoke with him made it sound like you wanted to fuck his brains out.”

“No. I-I…just-”

“Look, you keep saying ‘no’, you’re so insistent. But are you seriously telling me you  don’t fantasise about him when you go to sleep at night? Hmm?”

“I’m married.” The man blinks a few times. “It’s not like that with him. We don’t have sex. Why do you care about some stranger’s life anyway?”

“Because your reaction and your words don’t match up. It’s as simple as that.” I take his newspaper and arrange it back to its full width so it hides both our faces. Then, I place my hand onto his leg and brush my index finger casually against his crotch in a smooth up-and-down motion. “Won’t you let me help you out?”

I press my knuckles a little harder into his tenting cock and feel him twitch.

“We can’t…” I observe the way he trembles, the obvious longing in his eyes, the deep need for release. It’s all right there in his face, mixed in with a tiny drop of fear. “Not here anyway.”

I smile. That’s what I like to hear. “So, that’s a yes?”

The man sighs. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing, but there’s no way I’m getting off the train like this. I just…I want him so badly, but I know I’ll be doomed if I act on my impulses. We have such a great friendship and I don’t want anything to come between us, not after everything we’ve been through together.”

“Then let’s pretend,” I suggest. “Go into the toilet.”

“What?”

I point to the vacant toilet cubicle between our carriage and the next. “You go in there. I’ll go into a different one. We can use our phones to communicate while you uh…get rid of the evidence.”

“But why? Couldn’t we just go to a hotel or something?”

“Oh, please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not looking to have sex with you. I just want to do you a favour.”

“So what’s speaking over the phone going to do?”

“Well, I have something of a talent for impersonation…with a sight twist.”

“A twist? What is it?”

I laugh. “You expect me to tell you? Can’t you just be patient and find out for yourself?”

I’m sure I’m coming across a little aggressive at this point, but I’m indifferent to it. After all, I know he’ll do as I say; his mannerisms and breathlessness tell me he’s just gagging for a piece of that toy boy action. And I can give it to him the best way I know.

“First though, I’ll need to hear a sample of this guy’s voice. Do you have a voicemail or something I can use for reference?”

The man reaches down and retrieves his Motorola from his satchel. “Let me see.” He dials a number, waits for a few moments, then selects an option and hands me the phone. “This is the last one he left, but um…there’s nothing lewd in there. I don’t know if that works?”

“Even a rough idea of what his voice is like will be fine.”

I take the phone from him and press the receiver to my ear. The message starts with a brief rustling. It sounds like he’s in bed, almost like cotton sheets are being crumpled as he’s trying to reposition himself. Then comes a groggy male voice.

“Hi Stuart, it’s me. I’m already in bed but uh…I was thinking I should call you and see how everything went at work today. I know you said you had that presentation this morning and yeah…I hope people didn’t lay into you like you were worried about. So, anyway just call me in the morning. I’m leaving for the airport early and I wanted to talk with you before I get on the plane—you know how much I hate flying. Okay, well I uh…I hope we get to speak to each other in the morning…bye.”

I hang up the phone and return it to the man, who I now assume is called Stuart.

“He sounds like an adorable whippersnapper. You’re hoping for something more to happen with him, aren’t you?”

Stuart scowls. “Didn’t you already ask me this?”

“Yes, but I want to be sure I’m about to do the right thing by indulging you in this fantasy.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I do want to turn it into a sexual relationship, but…he’s the first guy I’ve ever felt attracted to. Before, my partners were always women and to be honest, I didn’t realise I was bisexual until recently. My wife is extremely supportive of everything I do and I don’t want to hurt her. It’s all just so frustrating.”

I nod. I get it. The situation is weighing him down like a lead buoy, stopping him from performing well at work, and causing him to feel like he has to hide his true identity from those he loves.

He sighs. “I feel so helpless. Why am I even telling you all this?”

“Believe me.” I put a hand on his shoulder and hand him my phone. “I’m unbiased. Now, give me your phone number, get in that toilet cubicle and lock the door. You can thank me later.”

Stuart types out his number on the screen and returns my phone.

“Right. Speak to you in a minute then. Call me when you’re in.”

I hoist myself up off the seat, grab my bag and waltz over to the cubicle located behind us. I look back over my shoulder to make sure Stuart’s doing as I instructed. Sure enough, I see him hobbling to the next closest toilet holding his coat over his crotch to shield his ‘piqued interest’. To the casual onlooker, it looks like he just desperately needs to take a piss.

I get settled into the cubicle, bolt the door shut and take a pew. A few seconds later, my phone rings. As expected, it’s Stuart. I answer, ready to take on this latest challenge.

“S-Stuart?” I manage to capture his potential lover’s tone and timbre perfectly. It’s a proud moment. “It’s me. I just wanted to hear your voice. I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

There’s a deafening silence on the other end of the line.

“Hello?” I try again, in that slightly timid voice.

“Tom. I thought you were at the airport? Shouldn’t you be boarding your flight right now?”

I imagine what he might sound like laughing, and let out a small chuckle. “You know I hate flying, Stuart.” I take a breath. “Anyway, I couldn’t stand being away from you. I knew I had to come back.”

“We can’t be together, Tom. I’ve wanted it since the moment I met you, but-”

“But what?” I pretend to well up a little. “Don’t you think I’m worth the effort?”

“Of course I do. You mean everything to me.” Stuart sounds truly torn now. “It’s just…my entire life I’ve never known myself like this. How I feel about you., it’s…well, you make me feel whole. I could love you in a completely new way.”

“Listen, Stuart. I’ve been wanting to bring this up for a while, but do you…uh…do you want to fuck me? I mean, now. Today.”

“Tom…”

“It’s alright, I’ve been holding back too,” I say. “But I don’t think I can do it anymore. Besides my fear of flying, the urge to feel you inside me is just too much to ignore. That’s why I’m ditching this trip. It’s all for you.”

“Th-thank you. ” Stuart audibly sniffles at the other end of the line. “This means so much to me. I’ve been longing to experience what it would be like to get deep inside you, in the rawest possible sense. I want your warmth to envelop my cock.”

“Mmm. Oh god, Stuart.” I make my breathing purposely shaky. “I’m walking through the airport and you’ve given me a fucking hard-on. I uh…hang on a second. I should really go and find a toilet.”

“I’ve been hard too, since our last call. Just thinking about you being all pent-up over there. Fuck. I’ve already got my trousers and boxers around my ankles. I’m stroking myself, imaging your hands are the ones gripping my cock instead of mine. It feels so-”

“Wait, wait, wait…Stuart, I’m nearly in the toilet.” I produce a series of noises that, realistically, could sound like closing and locking a door. “Um…this is embarrassing. I’ve got to get it out or I’m afraid I’ll burst.”

I unzip my own trousers, for the full effect. I’m not Tom, but I’m only human and I’m still getting turned on by the exchange. This always happens, but at the very least I get to run with a different scenario each time. That keeps me entertained.

“Tom, are you…touching yourself right now?” Stuart moans. I can hear the slick, wet sounds of his hand travelling effortlessly over his cock. “I’m jerking off. There are loads of other people in the adjoining carriages, and…it makes me feel good that they might hear me orgasm to the sound of your voice. Fuck.”

I slam my hand onto the toilet door. “Gnn. You’ve got me feeling so jealous right now, Stuart. I don’t want anyone else to hear your sweet cries of pleasure. They’re mine, all mine. I just want to coax them out of you. I want your thick, throbbing cock to plug up my anus until you explode, spilling cum inside me so powerfully that it drips down onto the bed sheets.”

There’s another moment of silence.

Did I go too far, too soon?

After some indiscernible background noise, Stuart finally responds. “Ah! Fuck. I’m visualising that tight bubble butt of yours and it’s making me even hornier. I’ve only ever seen it when you’ve been wearing skinny jeans or suit trousers. I can’t-” It’s clear he’s picking up the stroking pace now. “Ah ah…I want you so badly. I need to touch you. Can’t I just…come to you and we can finish this properly?”

I chuckle, somehow out of breath. “Stuart. I’m flattered, but you’re on the train to London, and I’m at the airport. It’d take some time for us to meet. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be stupidly busy at work today, so-”

“No, no, no. I’m ridiculously hard in here. So hard it hurts. I want you.” There’s even more desperation in his words now. “Please, Tom.”

“Mmm. Let’s do what makes sense right now and come together over the phone, but separately, where we are. I mean, I’m not going to last much longer at this rate. I just want to let this hot seed out while thinking about you, all sweaty and hard. Next time we see each other, I promise I’ll take your girth and length all the way to the hilt. You can fuck me senseless until dawn. We’ll make a night of it.”

…

“Hello?”

The line goes dead.

“Stuart?”

…

Someone raps loudly on the cubicle door.

“Uh…” I fumble to pull up my trousers. “Just a second,”

The knocks come again, hard and panicked. “Hey…let me in, let me in, let me in. It’s Stuart.”

Huh?

“What are you doing? I thought you were staying in the other cubicle?”

“I can’t hold it in anymore. I need to let it out. Just let me in!”

I unbolt the door and Stuart falls onto me. I’m trapped, pinned against the wall. He leans his entire body weight against me as I allow the door to click shut again. I lock it. No-one is getting in for at least another few minutes. Stuart’s erect cock presses firmly against mine. I let out an involuntary whimper. It quickly dawns on me that we’re going to fuck, and in this extremely cramped cubicle too.

“I’m not Tom, are you sure you want this?”

He almost looks drunk. I know he’s not, probably just dizzy with lust.

“Of course not,” he says, trailing a line down my chest and tugging lightly on my boxers. “But can’t we at least pretend? It’s the closest I’m going to get to fulfilling this fantasy.”

I smirk, wrapping my arms around his waist to pull him in. “You’re just lucky I bottom for my partners more often than not.”

His expression softens somewhat. There’s a sense of relief in his eyes as our bodies throb in unison. In his hurry to escape from the other cubicle, I notice that his trousers haven’t been fastened at all.

“Turn around,” he says. “Kneel on the seat.”

I slip my trousers back down so they’re wrapped around my ankles and pivot to face the wall. I push my palms flat against it and curve my butt upwards, creating an arch in my back. I glance over my shoulder. “Like this?”

“That’s hot.” Stuart takes a good, long feel of my butt, gripping the flesh between his strong fingers, and then gives my right cheek a light spank. I flinch as his hand makes contact with it. “I admire the way it jiggles,” he says, giving a few more playful spanks. I don’t mind a bit of spanking at all. In fact, it’s kind of a turn-on.

Out comes the Tom voice. “So, are you gonna fuck me or what?” I narrow my eyes at him and throw him a knowing grin. “I don’t think there’s much time until we arrive in London.”

“With pleasure,” he says. “God, I’ve been wanting this for so long.”

Stuart shimmies out of his trousers and boxers and lets them drop to the floor. I hear him spit into his hand and coat himself with it a few times, all the way up and down again. In such close proximity, that slick sound makes my cock drool with precum. I feel obliged to spread it all over the shaft and around my balls. I want to stroke myself stupid while he’s inside me.

He proceeds to explore my anus with the tip of his cock. I know it’s already going to be slippery and inviting—after all, I’m still nicely stretched out from a fuck session a couple of nights ago with some guy called Yen I met on Grindr.

I wonder if Stuart’s feeling disappointed? Maybe he’s expecting me to be tighter. No, maybe he expects Tom to be tighter. I can’t help it if this ruins his fantasy. I’m not Tom.

But the reality doesn’t seem to phase him one bit. He slips right in, filling me all the way up on the very first thrust. I catch my breath as he brushes directly up against my prostate. Not many partners seem to manage it so fast. I guess his shape helps. He’s certainly big, and girthy, but not so big that I can’t take him completely. It’s painless and easy and his cock feels amazing. He withdraws all except the tip before sliding back in. He repeats the movement, slowly to begin with, and then gradually picks up the pace.

I want to summon so much cum from him that it drips out of me. I quickly find myself pushing hard against him as he repeatedly launches into me. This only intensifies the experience.

I moan. His heavy balls slap against mine, and I try my best to stay in character. “Fuck, Stuart. Are you absolutely sure this is the first time you’ve done this?”

“You’re my first,” he says. “But I have watched a lot of gay porn.”

“Makes sense.” I look over my shoulder again. “So, how do I compare to using your hand?”

“No contest.” He thrusts even deeper into me and smirks. “My hand is far superior.”

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

“Of course not,” he laughs, lightly slapping my butt again. “You are so much more intense.”

“Well, enjoy it all you like.”

He slams back into me with some seriously incredible force. I catch my breath as my entire body practically presses up against the wall. My hungry cock hangs suspended in the air, making contact with the toilet seat with each movement. I feel so satisfied, being fucked raw like this, in such a small space with people standing on the other side of the door. That’s what makes it all the more electrifying. The clunking noise of the train is inevitably going to drown things out, but just knowing that there’s a chance people might hear us orgasm takes this to a whole new level.

I look over my shoulder to see his expression. His face is flushed bright red, in some combination of both concentration and lust. “Are you…gonna come Stuart?”

Now, my forearms are flat against the wall in some attempt to cushion the impact.

“If you keep saying my name like that, I just might do.” He grabs me by the hips and pulls me in, his fat cock plugging this willing hole right up.

“Stuart.”

“Unff…”

I feel him twitching, his veins bulging ever thicker with arousal.

“Stu…art.” I change up Tom’s tone to be even more saccharine and alluring.

“Fuck!”

And with that, he empties his load into me, gripping my butt cheeks as he does. The flow is so powerful I swear it’s creating mini tidal waves of semen at the end of my rectum that’s splashing back on itself and returning to my anus—like the milk in a cereal ad. A few drips slips out onto the floor. He slides his semi-hard cock in and out of me a few last times, then withdraws quickly with a wet ‘pop’ sound.

“Seems like you needed that, Stuart.”

“I really did.”

There’s still plenty left inside, so I reach around, take some of the cum on my fingers and smother it all over my balls and shaft. Fresh cum always makes the most effective lube. I close my eyes as I start to wank myself off, Stuart’s seed offers a cool and refreshing tingling sensation.

“Mmm. Using my spunk as lube?” Stuart remarks. “Now that’s fucking hot.”

I hear a thud and the clink of a belt as Stuart drops to his knees. Within moments, I feel his tongue trace a line from the top of my anus, down to the perineum, and lapping hungrily over my balls. He opts for the occasional hard suck, which only stimulates me more. If anything, the thought of him tasting his own semen sets my mind in overdrive. I tighten the grip on my shaft, bucking as he teases that extra sensitive sphincter with the tip of his tongue. I’m practically kissing the wall by this point, his face buried deep in my butt and giving me such blissful oral attention.

I try to catch my breath again. “More…Stuart!”

“Mmff.” Stuart makes a muffled sound as he speaks through a mouthful of his own cum. “I want to watch you blow…Tom.”

The name catches me off-guard, That’s right. I was so lost in enjoying this fuck that I forgot about the main point. He’s only using me, pretending I’m Tom. And…it kind of hurts, at least temporarily. It makes me feel like I’m nothing more than a vessel for his fantasy. Why am I doing this? How exactly is allowing him to screw me going to make this fantasy a reality for him? There’ll still be all of that to deal with when this is over. The moment we step outside this cubicle, we return to our own lives. Back where we started.

Still, right now. I’m too hard and horny to worry about the fine print. This existential crisis isn’t going to solve anything when all I need to do is come.

I swivel to sit the correct way on the toilet seat, my glistening cock pointing toward the ceiling. “Stuart…please finish me off.”

He looks me in the eye and hesitates. For a split second, I sense disappointment, like he’s also just been thrust back into this ugly reality.

I’m not Tom, and he knows it.

I feel compelled to say something. My regular voice makes its comeback. “Listen, I know this…situation is a little strange, and I understand if you don’t want to continue, but I-”

“Just…shut up.” Stuart covers my mouth with his hand. “Let me help you come.”

He takes my cock in his firm grip and pumps, slowly and with purpose. He inserts a couple of fingers into my anus and I arch my back inwards, craving every little touch more intensely than the last. Then, while still fingering me, he takes me in his mouth and curls that tongue around the bottom of my shaft, twisting, licking and teasing to perfection. He coats me in his thick saliva and bites the tip lightly, followed by gentle sucking. The movement is slow and steady. I suspect it’s a rhythm that requires some serious concentration to maintain, especially for a first-timer. But damn he’s good at this!

I let out a strained whimper as I finally come, several thin wisps of my white hot seed hitting the back of Stuart’s throat. He doesn’t hold back and swallows every last drop like the good boy he is.

“Taste good?”

“Delicious.” Stuart looks up at me. “That…was a great experience. Thank you.”

The official announcement sounds to let us know we’ve almost arrived at Stratford. We’re both getting off at Liverpool Street, the stop after.

I smile at Stuart, wiping myself down with a piece of toilet paper. “I uh…suppose we better be going then.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Listen, it’s been fun and I really hope you’re able to figure things out with Tom.”

Stuart nods. “Well, I’m not sure I’m ready for anything to happen between us just yet. I could do with a little more practice…you know?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I’m just saying…” He slips his trousers back on, zips them up and fastens the button. “I’ve got your number. I’ll give you a call.”

I’m torn. Does he want to fuck me or Tom?

But I liked the experience too. There’s no denying that.

So instead, I find myself obliging.

“I’ll be waiting.”

“Wait, are you…going to be on this train tomorrow by any chance?”

I smirk. “Maybe.”