I see her sitting in front of me, her legs tense, her body stiff. The masseur in me fantasizes her to lie down on the bench. While I am having my random masseur fantasy (purely platonic), I notice the book that she is holding- Butterfly Skin by Se…. It’s a pain to travel in metro, you can’t even read two words without being shaken to the core. Urgh! How is she able to hold that stare for so long? The book seems gripping. I see something falling out of the book.. a ticket probably. The lady in red skirt doesn’t pay any attention. Her red dress, just perfect texture rubbing against the perfect skin. Not like porcupine men I have to massage everyday.
The train comes to a halt. Few passengers get down and some get in.
I too get down, only to re-enter from the other door and slide just next to her. O boy! She smells so good. She looks at me. Can she read mind? No, relax, she can’t. She smiled. What’s that phrase? This smile can sail a boat, or was it this smile can launch a thousands ships? I smile back. She looks ethereal in the red skirt. I feel dizzy.
“What happened?”, she asks. “Sorry?”, I reply getting closer to her. “What happened, you were sitting there, right?”, she caught me. “Oh yeah! I was”, I managed. “I just wanted to sit here”, I stammered. “Why?”, she asks again. A tough nut. Isn’t she something? “Just to see”, I was about to say ‘you’. I guess she thought I was talking about the view.
“Oh I see, you new here”, she asks in the most mellifluous voice I ever heard. How I wish to keep listening to her, always. “Yes”, I lied. “Do you wanna see around? I am a local”, she asked biting her lips. “Absolutely”, I answer. I notice a butterfly on her shoulder. I am dazzled by her enigma, her fragrance. The train stops and I follow her out.
The train comes to halt at the last stop. Every passenger deboards. Only a ticket lies on the floor, which reads- “The butterfly lady dazzled the masseur, he was trapped.”