It all had happened so awkwardly and yet unforeseen, thinking that she was merely another homeless passenger on the CTA. She was of middle age - close to 55 I would assume - with dark complexity and soiled clothing with stains and tears beginning to appear at the bottom of her jeans. A blanket gave her warm, settling nicely upon the two seats she took for herself. To me, this was typical homelessness aboard the public transit, so I paid zero attention to her.
That was when I had gotten up to get off at my stop, and I noticed movement beneath her blanket. This movement occurred around her beaver, and this assumption of mine was confirmed by her facial reactions to the tending of her axe wound. How could I not look away? It's not everyday you get to see someone pleasure themselves in public. So I stared with a frown, curious as to what compelled or motivated her to get to work. Her eyes were shut tight, lips trembling with passion. Then she opened up and immediately laid her vision on me, halting her bean flicking process with a face of wonder and contempt, as if I had just interrupted her. I chuckled and dipped, attempting to avoid any further contact with Ashley and her bean flicking activities.
I named her Ashley because she reminds me of a one-night-stand I had some time ago.
