Derby Delight
"Train driver Folake's regular route gets exciting when a thick Liberian businesswoman starts taking the same service—and making requests that aren't on the timetable."
The first-class regular was memorable.
Mary always sat in the same seat, always caught Folake's eye as she walked through for announcements, always smiled like she knew a secret.
"You're an excellent driver," Mary said one day. "Smooth. Confident."
"Thank you."
"I'd like to thank you properly. My hotel. Tonight."
The hotel was near Derby station.
Mary opened the door in a silk robe that strained across her thick Liberian curves.
"I take this train every week," she said. "Every week I've thought about you."
"You don't know anything about me."
"I know you're beautiful. I know you're strong. I know I want you."
The train driver's precision extended to other areas.
Folake took her time, ensuring every stop was exactly where it should be.
"God—right there—"
"Like this?"
"Don't stop at this station. Keep going."
The arrangement became regular.
Every week, the same route. Every week, the same hotel.
"People will notice," Folake warned.
"Let them." Mary pulled her down. "I've got a season ticket. To this."
"This?"
"You. Us. Whatever this is."
Derby to London and back again.
The journey was always better knowing what waited at the end.
"Best route on the network," Folake would tell colleagues.
"Best driver on the line," Mary agreed.
Some schedules, they learned, were worth keeping.
Especially the unofficial ones.