Funny thing was, although I went there with the idea of possibly having sex with a man, I found I was not that particularly interested anymore, and missed my Catherine. I was studying the women, noticing what they wore, there make-up and hairstyles, noting what I thought was tasteful and what was 'tacky,' (for lack of a better description) thinking just a few months before I would have been one of the 'tacky' dresser, but now felt actually quite attractive in a more acceptable way with the more refined people. I finally left alone and walked home to my room, where I undressed completely and got into bed. I curled up with my hand over my vulva, and thinking of the events that had transpired in the last few weeks, realized how much I missed my lover. My memories and thoughts excited me, and the hand covering my vagina took care of my needs for the night. In the morning I had my pee then made myself some tea, and returned to bed where I stayed till lunch time. The need to eat forced. I didn't even catch it very often! It was only when I travelled home to my parents place 4 or 5 times a year I had to catch the train from this God forsaken station, but there always seemed to be an excuse for the train not to come at 7.32 like it was meant to. I hated this fucking journey, and waiting for this damned train, but sods law said that if I got there 1 minute late then it would have gone on time.....So there I was, freezing my bollocks off. Again. I heard footsteps coming from the other end of the small platform, obviously a female from the sound of the shoes on the concrete, and to relieve the boredom of counting along to the ticks of the station clock I glanced over. Then, for just a brief moment, time stood still. It was her! It HAD to be her! WAS it her?! It had been many years since the first time I saw her, but I instantly recognised that face.....I should explain a little bit who HER was...Twenty years ago, on my way home from work and whilst waiting for a bus.
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