It's Monday evening and I feel pretty flat. All the elation has gone, the excitement, the sense of exotic. Now that I've written down what happened yesterday, all I'm left with is an email address that I've already written to.

Jesus, I'm a one for getting obsessed by things, aren't I? I don't think I realised it until I started this diary. For the last six weeks I've been consumed by str8guy and his crap, now I meet a gorgeous woman and I'm head over heels in love, and the thought of str8guy barely figures on my horizons. He made me do something this afternoon, on the train, something I could never have contemplated a few weeks ago, something that would have got me arrested if I'd been caught, and yet what am I starting this entry with? Not the fact that I deliberately sat and flashed at someone on a train. No, I start by filling you in on my latest obsession.

Miliza.

Miliza.

God, I want her.

I'm itching for her. Almost literally. I can't get her out of my mind, but it's much more than that - I can't get her out of my body either. I think I'm beginning to know how Tess feels on a Friday night now... Permanently horny.

Okay, let me try to take my mind off it. I need to fill you in on what happened today. Whatever happens, this diary needs to be a comprehensive record, so I can't miss a bit out just because I'm mooning around like a love-struck teenager.

I had to phone in to work this morning to tell them I'd be late. My toilet was blocked and I was waiting for a plumber - that was my excuse. Seemed to fit logically with my sickness and diarrhoea excuse last week... That meant switching on my phone and, of course, that meant dealing with the messages from str8guy which I knew would be waiting for me. They were.

Six of them.

Where are you?

What are you doing?

Answer me

I'm getting angry now

No contact all day. I hope you have an excuse

Past midnight and nothing

He's not good at being thwarted.

I texted him while I was standing at King's Cross waiting for my train.

Phone switched off. Didn't realise

Within a couple of minutes he was back.

Where are you?

London

What are you doing there?

Getting train back

Obtuse as ever

tx

Where did you stay last night?

Hotel

Why?

Why not?

He kept pressing me but I dug my heels in. This was mine. It was my story. It was precious to me. I wasn't going to sully it by letting str8guy know about it. He'd just use it as a way of forcing me to do something else, and that would turn beauty into something sordid. So I refused to tell him. Which annoyed him even more, obviously, and I fully expect I'll have to reap the repercussions of that in due course...

Are you on the train yet?

Not yet. Board in 5 mins

Choose your seat carefully. You know what I mean

No actually

I want a performance. A show. For some lucky individual

Oh

Understand?

Y

And pictures. Ok?

Y

To be honest, I was only half concentrating on what he was saying. Miliza still filled my thoughts. The noticeboard announced my train was boarding and I wandered down the platform, past the first class poseurs with their striped shirts and garish braces, and past the ramshackle restaurant car. The rush hour had passed and I knew it wouldn't be a busy train. Indeed it was virtually empty and after five minutes there was still nobody else even close to me. Finally, a few minutes before departure, it began to fill up. A middle-aged man sat facing me, on the opposite aisle. I had known there was a fair chance this would happen, of course: it is a truth universally acknowledged that an unaccompanied man, looking for somewhere to sit, will choose the seat opposite an unaccompanied woman. Pricks and predictability: it makes them such easy meat...

I looked round. There were three businessmen and two single women close by, but none of them were in my line of sight when I was facing the man. It was going to be quite easy. We endured the interminable announcements from the Chief Steward and the train set off, spot on time. I texted str8.

Just set off

And have you a target

Of course

Male or female?

M

Flash him

I moved around in my seat, as though getting comfortable, but in reality sliding my skirt up. After a couple such interludes it had ridden fairly high, easily enough for exposure of the upper thighs. Looking out of the window, I turned round so my legs were facing out towards the passageway, in the direction of my target. I kept them together, but knew they would still be forming a tempting sight. As we passed through one of the several lengthy tunnels outside King's Cross I used the darkness to check on my stranger in the window, and true enough his reflection was staring in my direction. I smiled slightly as I began to part my legs.

Welcome to paradise, my friend, whoever you are.

Gradually, I parted them further and further, all the time taking no interest in him. We passed Alexandra Palace, by which time I was sure my thighs would be getting a good airing. I didn't want to go too far - not at this stage anyway. I hadn't expected to be staying overnight, of course, so I hadn't brought any clean undies. Yesterday's were safely in my bag and I was completely bare underneath my skirt. That was a prize he would have to wait for.

Doing it?

Yes

And?

He seems 2 b njoying it.

My thoughts were still filled with Miliza. I could still smell her. If I closed my eyes I could see her face, her breasts, her stomach, taste her mouth, feel the softness of her skin, the downy nap of her body hairs. I lost myself to contemplation and when I resurfaced in reality, I realised I was staring directly at the man opposite.

Not surprisingly, he was returning my stare with something approaching perplexity. He was being stared at by a woman who was sitting with her legs parted, offering a view of her upper thighs. God knows what he was thinking. I blushed immediately, which of course confirmed the lack of innocence of my actions.

I had been caught.

I smiled weakly. "Are you alright?" he asked. At that moment, str8 texted again.

What are you doing now?

"Yes, fine thanks."

Got caught

What's happening?

Nothing

The man kept watching me, observing as I continually texted str8guy. I had closed my legs, but for some reason my patience snapped. I was sick of this cloak and dagger stuff, all the play-acting and teasing and messing about. If str8guy wanted me to flash I would just do it. Get it over with.

"I'm playing a game," I said to the man.

"Oh?"

"Yes, with a friend. On the phone." I indicated to my mobile. The man nodded, not understanding. "I've been flashing you."

"I noticed."

Staring at him, I parted my legs wide and pulled my skirt up. I didn't need to look down to know that I was completely on show, my pussy open to his gaze. His look of shock told me everything I needed to know.

"My friend dared me to do it. So I have. Do you mind?"

"No." Somehow, I didn't think he would.

"Would you mind if I take a picture of you. To send him?" He looked as if he was going to object so I took it anyway. "Can I? Send it?" He nodded and I sent it to str8guy.

This is him

"Would you take one of me? Please? You can keep a copy yourself if you want." I handed him my phone without waiting for a reply. "Press the button here." He took it from me, his face still a picture of incomprehension. I might have felt sorry for him if I hadn't known that, despite everything, I was giving him a good time.

I settled back in my seat and spread myself wider, ensuring my pussy was open and fully on display. The man took a picture and embarrassedly passed the phone back to me. I quickly sent it to str8guy, with a message "&this is me." I smiled at the man. "D'you want a copy?" He nodded. I passed the phone back to him. "Send it to yourself then."

I kept myself on display as he sent the picture to his own phone and smiled as he returned mine.

"Do you do this often?" he asked.

People keep asking me that question. I don't know why... "No. Just messing about. It's only fun." I unbuttoned the top of my blouse and revealed my bra. He gulped, but continued to watch, rapt. Another text appeared.

What r you doing?

Wot u told me

Be careful

Hah!

"Another picture?" I asked, handing the phone over to my new friend. He nodded and I pulled my bra up as he settled himself into position. I was now showing tits and pussy, spread lasciviously on the seat, and the man captured the moment for eternity. "Send it to yourself," I offered, and he did so again.

Our adventure soon came to a conclusion. "Watch," the man said a couple of minutes later, indicating over my shoulder as the ticket collector appeared. And a couple of minutes after that we stopped at Stevenage, where the carriage filled up and the opportunity was lost.

I felt a sense of triumph, though. I had outwitted str8guy. More than that, I had shown more courage than him. More adventure. All he could say was "be careful", while I went on and became more daring. I had found the edge of his courage, but not mine. I had won. I felt stronger than str8guy. I was stronger than str8guy. Funny how falling in love can make you see things differently.

Fuck you str8guy, I beat you today.

At Peterborough I got up to leave. My new friend looked up and smiled and I returned his smile conspiratorially. "Nice meeting you," I said.

"And you. Give my regards to your friend."

"Oh, he's not worth it. He's a piece of shit. Bye."