naked / train / wandering / lust / yoga

I woke early, felt the folds of my flesh in the shower, and then stood in awe of my own elongated nakedness in the bathroom mirror. The heat today, somewhat subdued, not as decrepitly punishing as yesterday. The humidity has dropped; taking comfort in the coolness of the cream I apply to my newly shaved legs. Tracing the outline of my abdomen, I apply more cream liberally upward from my navel. I worry about my shoes, flats or heels, as I make no headway in decision, pausing to look at the wan slender ghost of my face in the mirror. My skirt sits high above my knee, teasing the tan lines of my thigh. My thick silver bangle drapes my wrist in a seductive code of armor. Flats it is, as I am already late for my train, so a run it will now need to be, not a meandering sway of my hips. I would like to say that I am reading a very proper French intellectual book, but alas, Shades of Grey peeks from my shoulder briefcase. The avant-garde of my breasts is cold as they collide with the air conditioning of the train. I wrap my shawl, and drape it downward, covering my two pointed soldiers. I now look very casual chic; time has been kind to me, as my actual age is greater than the equivalent that I appear. I watch as the man next to me raises his long blunt fingers to hand the conductor his ticket. I imagine these same fingers to have probably touched some women in all kinds of tempest ways. Self - conscious enough to think that we get too old for sex, I linger in the thought of what could happen on a hot summer afternoon. Am I the only one on the train with such devil's thought? The man on the other side of me is adjusting his tie, and although it is not the more demanding "grey" one, it is a strikingly bold blue, which brings out the color of his eyes. I am self-reassured that I cannot possibly be the only woman on the train whom takes in and harbors such knowledge of thought. Without discussion or exchanging of ideas, the same abstraction is readable on many a commuter's face. Making association between my thoughts and a visual image, I begin to pant, as he begins to take notice. Further I process my theory that, the color of the tie makes little difference, a tie will always act the part of a tie, when in the presence of a skirt.