The Guyliner

Commuting is a dull, necessary evil only a few of us can avoid. Usually, I work from home, the full journey from bed to office via bathroom taking around 90 seconds. But, on landing myself a new contract in a suburb of London, I am to rejoin the rat race I’d so fondly missed.

The journey takes a mere 20 minutes, and I excitedly get on the train on my first day, like an eager schoolboy unaware of the horrors awaiting beyond. It’s busy, but not crowded, and I take my seat opposite a man who’s looking down at an iPad and frowning thoughtfully. As I smooth down my jacket and trousers, he looks up at me fleetingly. He is an utter vision: his hair a dark, rich brown and his eyes even duskier. His skin is pale, smooth and gleaming. He is dressed simply, yet smartly – burgundy trousers…

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