Evidently I'm not the only one to have the occasional suspicious thought while travelling.
On my way back from Meg Philip's book launch last night (yes, I am one of those), I overheard a young(ish) man enquiring about the train on which we were travelling... or, to be more accurate, the stations at which the train would be stopping. Akin to the girl who probably had a perfectly innocent reason for being on the train last month, he clearly didn't know where he was going and had to resort to asking me. And when we disembarked, he got off at the same stop as us, and was swallowed eventually by the gathering darkness.
Our conversation eventually turned to this person who we had no right to converse about. My thoughts up until that point had been focused mainly on my growing inability to speak and how the hell I managed to win the "dirtiest joke" competition. But it was Jilly who broached the subject of our man dressed in black.
To be fair, her suspicions were a little more left-field than I. What with his carrying a massive bag that I surmised might be for overnight clothes, I had the "meeting-a-lover" story down to a tee. Jilly, however, pointed out that the bag may have held something more similar to implements, and that with the unassuming but smart(ish) clothes, took a rather different view.
"He may be a visiting Dom," she pointed out. I had to admit this thought hadn't crossed my mind, although I did recall the one conversation I've had with a Domme who did the whole outcall thing.
"Couldn't really be an escort. I don't know many escorts who do outcalls which aren't in a hotel... unless it's a regular client."
"Although he could just live around here."
I ran this idea through my brain - the concept that people in London have a non-sexual reason for travelling on trains was, following seven years of sex blogging, totally alien to me.
I mean, really?
He couldn't have lived around here, actually, since he was counting stations and seemed to need a prompt from me to get off at our station. Plus... he had clearly put a lot of effort into slicking back his hair ans choosing his outfit. I do hate to say this, but it all fits.
What am I saying? I don't hate to say this at all! It's brilliant!