This story is the product of listening to the podcast "My Dad Wrote a Porno" repeatedly for the past six months, so all characters etc. belong to Rocky Flintstone and the book Belinda Blinked. Since I have noticed that there is no fanfiction for the story (unusual since we're normally very rapid to produce smut of anything) I decided to set myself the exercise of writing something completely new and out of my comfort zone... hence, I wrote a porno.
Chapter One: The mysterious man on the train
The train jostled, almost sending an already unsteady Giselle flying. In her difficulty, juggling her coffee in one hand and her phone in the other, she had had no hands free to hold onto anything, and the combination of a too tight pencil skirt and overly high heels had thrown her.
At the expense of the last dregs of her Starbucks, she grabbed for a handle as she fell, but someone saved her at the last second. A strong arm wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her back to her feet, and she let out a sigh of relief as she was righted. She flushed slightly in the already too hot train, feeling the stranger linger at her back. He still didn't let go, the muscular arm remaining protectively around her waist.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice so deep it reverberated in her aching chest, causing her heart to skip a beat. She turned to thank her saviour, and she was greeted by a handsome face. He was perhaps two decades her senior, and his chiselled features were highlighted by just the right amount of stubble. She couldn't have hoped for a better saviour. Her face was growing warmer by the second, beginning to blend with her lipstick, and she patted her blonde hair down slightly. The humidity in the carriage was making it frizz, and she was certain the heat coming from her face wasn't helping.
"Yes, thank you," she said, embarrassed by how unsteady her voice sounded. She was certain she seemed like nothing more than a foolish girl in his eyes, and that squeaking voice probably hadn't helped. "Sorry, it was the heels." The breathtakingly blue eyes looked down, and his rugged face broke into a dazzlingly white smile at the sight of the towering red pumps.
""That would do it," he said. "You know that's just about my favourite colour," he muttered, his lips suddenly so close to her ear that she could practically feel them kissing the flushing skin.
"Oh?" she asked, flicking her hair out of her face and trying to regain the confidence that she had been famous for in her university days. "And what's your absolute favourite then?" He looked deep into her eyes, blue forming an unbreakable connection with the deep green depths, and smiled, causing her to lose what little dignity she had left and giggle.
"I would have to say, right this moment, it's emerald green."
Her knees felt a little weak, but before she could say a word, the voice of the insufferable tannoy system had echoed through the carriage. He tipped his head slightly to listen the announcement, and his lips quirked slightly into a smile. "Sounds like it's my stop," he said. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a scrap of paper and rather expensive looking pen and scribbled something down. "Call me some time, I'd love to take you out for a drink." He placed the paper in her outstretched palm, and only now did he finally remove his hand from her waist. She hadn't even realised it was there until it was gone, leaving the skin feeling cold and abandoned.
He picked up his briefcase and stepped off the train with one last smile. They never broke eye contact as the train pulled away, the still nameless man smiling as a passing train ruffled the salt and pepper hair slightly, and she tucked the paper into her front pocket. It was only as the train left the station that realisation hit her.
"Oh bollocks, that was my stop."