Chapter 4: The Wrong Bag?

Morning came and I rushed around looking for the right clothes to wear, I had to look menacing, rough and ready according to Jane. How could I look rough and ready, I had no stubble, nothing slightly menacing in my wardrobe. So I opted for my large winter coat, the red and white woolly bobble hat that mother had knitted for me last Christmas and a false beard left over from Halloween when I was 12.

I topped my new look off with a very sexy pair of John Travolta-like sunglasses, he always played sly mean muthers!

I looked the part through and through.

Later I left the house after breakfast with my disguise in a carrier bag.

As planned I put on my disguise in the station toilets and boarded the circular line train and made my way for carriage three.

I sat for a time looking out of the window wondering when we would reach Janes stop, but before we got there I noticed a small blonde woman hurry by me, she was in a rain coat carrying a Sainsburys bag, this was it, and this was my cue.

I stood up and followed, as planned Jane walked into the toilet, I followed her. She was a lot older than she had told me but then most women lie about their age don’t they?

I shrugged and quickly closed and locked the door, grabbed her menacingly and said in my best Mafioso voice “If you make a move you’ll be sorry” as I said this I squeezed myself up against her.

Little Elvis was as hard as rock and ready for action; I unpacked him and pushed him into the small of Janes back.

Jane said, “No please, take my money”, I said still in character “I don’t want your money lady”, then shoved her down on her stomach over the toilet. Jane said quite convincingly “Don’t hurt me please; I’ll do anything you want”.

I hiked up her coat and her skirt and tore down her tights and knickers, I rammed one hand between her legs and started to do as she had said “toy” with her. With the other hand I fumbled in her blouse and pushed her bra to one side, grabbing her tit. Oh God this was good, Elvis strained at my pants, he wanted it bad, but I knew that wasn’t the deal. I pushed her down further and stuck my head between her legs. It did not taste very pleasant, in fact she smelt old, and a faint whiff of kipper, far stranger than Aunt Vi had done.

But none the less a deal was a deal, so I lapped and lapped, bit and ravaged her with my mouth. Her whole body shuddered, every part of her was shaking, and then after a short while I just got up, rearranged my beard and bobble hat and left quickly.

Even though Jane hadn’t been what I had expected it had been a good experience, very erotic, very pleasing for Elvis who had given a nine gun salute as usual all over the inside of my winter coat. I felt so proud, so tall as I travelled back home.

Though I was so glad to be rid of that bloody itchy beard and bobble hat.

I got in the house and went straight for a bath; I soaked for ages in the bath tub, going through every last bit of the kinky, wonderful experience. That evening I logged in to the chat room to speak to Jane, I wanted to hear how wonderful I was. But to my dismay the first thing Jane said was “Oh Kevin I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it, Gary did his back in and was sent home from work, you must hate me”.

I sat frozen to my chair, unable to take in what I had just seen appearing on my screen.

Quickly I typed “You mean you never turned up????”

“No I told you I couldn’t make it” Jane replied, “I am truly sorry, maybe another day, yes?”

“No” I typed, “Definitely not, erm I never turned up either, I had to go to London on business”.

“Oh well no harm done then Kevin” typed Jane, followed by she had to go because her husband was calling her.

I couldn’t believe what I had done, I had actually molested an innocent woman on the train, I was truly now a fully-fledged pervert.

That night I lay awake in my bed, hoping that it had all been a very bad dream, and then I tried to work things out in my head.

I’d worn a disguise, worn gloves to buy my ticket, nope no one would know it was me, Jane wouldn’t tell, she´d have to explain it all to her husband. I was ok, there was no way to trace me, I was in the clear, shit I was a pervert. After hours of worrying I must have drifted off to sleep.

But a few hours into the night I awoke sweating, I had dreamt of waking up and seeing my photo emblazoned all over the morning papers. The headline ´Train sex attacker at large´.

Underneath that ´Police to DNA test everyman in the area´.

I sat up in my bed, swaying back and forth, I was going to end up in prison, I´d finally get to have sex, but it would be with a 6ft 6 hairy tattooed man named Doreen!

After sitting awake for what seemed like hours I awoke to the sound of my mother calling me “Kevin, breakfast is ready, you’ve over slept”. Slowly I walked downstairs and as I entered the dining room mother said “Look I’ve got you a lovely smoked mackerel for your breakfast, eat it up”.

All the memories of that woman came rushing back to me, as I met the smell of that oily kipper, her smell, her taste, my guilt.

My stomach churned as I ran for the bathroom.

After throwing up I hobbled to the sofa and lay there, what had I done?

Mother came in “Oh you poor darling you look so pale, here sit up and drink your tea”. She reached and turned the TV on for me, “Just rest and watch television dear, I’ll go cook you a soft-boiled egg instead, with soldiers”.

As I sipped my tea a woman read the headlines, “Armed man sexually molests elderly lady on a train”. I coughed and spluttered my tea all over.

Mother ran in and started patting my back “Kevin, Kevin, that’s it, cough it up, it might be a gold watch”.

I sat feeling filthy and ashamed, watching; listening to what the newsreader had to say.

“It is believed the attacker, a man in his late twenties, held a gun to the woman’s back. Witnesses’ say he wore sunglasses and is said to be 5ft 10 inches to 6 ft tall. He has a large beard and was wearing a heavy coat and a distinctive striped red and white woollen hat with a bobble on the top.

His victim said he may have been of Indian origin, it is advised that no one approach him as he may be armed and dangerous”. This was followed by a badly drawn picture that luckily looked nothing like I did.

I gripped my cup and felt sick once more, mother said “Ooohw look he has a hat likes yours, where’s your bobble hat Kevin, it’s getting cold maybe you should get yours out” then she went into the kitchen.

Days went by and I felt too scared and sick to leave the house, mother just said “You have a tummy bug, poor boy” so I got to stay off from college.

On the Tuesday night Aunt Vi’ came to tea, she seemed very concerned about me. I had not gone to hug her at the door and I was sitting avoiding eye contact, I felt dirty, untouchable.

The news came on, this time they had the woman from the train appealing for witnesses, she was 59 years old and her hair wasn’t blonde it must have been a wig, she wasn’t attractive and she certainly did not look as I’d hoped. In fact after seeing her I just thought to myself “Fuck I am the victim here, she’s gross and no man would have touched her with a barge pole, she should be glad I mistook her for Jane”.

I know it wasn’t the right thing to do, but it made me feel better, I was the victim. Because of her mistaking Elvis for a gun I was a wanted armed felon, a sought after criminal. All I wanted was to please Jane, have some fun then leave but no!

Now I had this to think of for the rest of my life. I had been left as mentally and physically scarred by the whole event as the old lady had (or that is what I told myself).

Over the next few days I tried to put the terrible event behind me, after all I wasn’t a rapist or anything, it was all just an unfortunate mistake. I wasn’t the sort of man to molest an innocent woman on a train but no one would have believed my reason for doing so.

After a short while the police seemed to stop looking for the "Circular Line Pervert" (me) because they had real sex attackers to deal with and murderers etc. I suppose one old lady on a train wasn´t a "spree" so they thought it was not worth putting so much man power into it after all.  So I resumed my normal life again, college, the net, cybersex, wanking and flirting with Aunt Vi every Tuesday tea time.