She PreFIRSWOOD

She PreFirswoodHe pushed the button and doors opened “All ticket’s and passes please!” Shit thought Marjorie a passenger she had forgotten to purchase her ticket at St Werburghs road! What was she going to do? As she watched the metrolink ticket inspector move through the carriage, she was struck by a thought. He looked no older than 21, she could certainly teach him a thing or two. She flicked open the top button on her blouse and hoisted up her skirt exposing the tweetie bird tattoo on her thigh that she had had done in 1978 on a hen do in Skegness. She knew it was the Achilles heel to all men! She checked her face in her compact mirror not bad she thought, smiling she saw her gappy grin, like a row of houses, some semi detached, some terraced. She then pulled out the Kirby grips holding up her hair and it tumbled down around her shoulders. He edged closer towards her, he looked as if he would take no prisoners today…”tickets and passes please!” he called, he now stood over her, shrouded in yellow and grey like a warrior of the tram. She looked up and batted her eyelids, he looked unimpressed and so she looked down at her thigh, indicating her Tweetie bird tattoo. He stared at her and then repeated “Can I see your ticket please?” Marjorie knew she only had one trick left up her sleeve and it literally was ‘up her sleeve’ she rolled up her left sleeve on her jacket and this exposed another tattoo, this one read “I will have sex with you” It was a tattoo she had had done several years ago just on the off chance that a situation like this would arise. Now was a her perfect moment. He squinted his eyes to read it and then his expression changed as the meaning began to sink in. The tram came to a sudden stop at the station and he lurched forward landing on her lap. “well well officer, look what we have here” said Marjorie and she traced the edge his waterproof jacket. He jumped up blushing. As the doors opened, all the other passengers seemed to disembark the tram leaving Marjorie and the ticket man alone in the carriage. The tram continued on it’s journey. Marjorie knew from his expression that she was in the driving seat (not of the tram but of this encounter) and so she instructed him…”I want you to dance for me!” he looked around a little confused. “But there isn’t any music playing?” he said and with that Marjorie began singing Brian Adam’s classic ‘Everything I do (I do it for you)’ Knowing it would steam things up. She didn’t have the best voice, but it sure was loud!  Taking her lead, he, like a pole dancer began swinging around the newly fitted three person handrail, his grey and yellow branded coat grazing the floor. Marjorie screamed with delight. She stood up, pulling him close the heat between them. Easily double his body weight Marjorie threw him on the floor under a bed of discarded metro newspapers stripping him of his yellow uniform and mounting him like a pony. ‘Tend to me!’ she cried as she rocked and swayed against the movement of the tram. The tram was hurtling down the tracks en route to Trafford bar. It went dark as a tunnel engulfed the tram and simultaneously her tunnel engulfed his tram…