A Short, Beautiful, Female Adventure

I was coming home from work, and she was there. Blonde, small, big boobs…in other words-Perfect. Two squares in suits were talking to her already so I didn’t pay much attention. I thought she was with them, so I did he polite tube thing and sat two seats between us. We reached Waterloo and I vaguely heard them saying Goodbye to her, so I looked up from my phone and vaguely heard her tutting to herself.

“Elephant and Castle?” I said nicely to her.

“Some people hey?” she replied. And that was that. For the next hour or so, we spoke of many things. She was from Brixton, I was staying in E&C. She had to get a bus from there, I had to trudge lonelily home without any hope of chatting to anyone. This sort of stuff never happened in real London life.

I walked her to the bus stop, continuiously praying for the Nightbus (N1) to be nowhere in sight. “Don’t worry,” she said matter-of-factly, “I’ll miss the first one so we can talk more.”

Now this girl was absolutely stunning. A little bit over 5 feet, maybe 5’1” or 2”, but she carried herself with the airs and graces of a model. She was wearing a summer, tight light orange dress which complimented her figure perfectly and small flat shoes which were nice to walk in. She was obviously practiced in the art of speech, and in particular fast speech because jokingly I used to throw in an odd word or two during her ramblings, which had no business in the conversation, for example ‘Bananas’ or I do believe ‘Roller-coaster’ was certainly fired in there at one point or another. Everyone got on the first bus, except her and I, which caused quite a few confused glances, including one long look from the bus driver.


Clare was quite an open person, and pretty soon we were conversing over the things that only friends speak of. Family, Pets, Past Lovers, Heartaches, Death. I told her of my Irish family and why I was in London, and she spoke of her father’s passing and his incredible mustache.

She also spoke of men. How they had hurt her irreversibly and her trust levels were down at breaking point. I asked in return would she consider Lesbianism and may I be involved as the photographer or even Pool-boy, should the fantasy require one. She said no, but she had previous female experiences and wasn’t against them, it just wasn’t her. Could this girl get any better.

Now London is the type of place that you don’t often meet anyone you don’t know. It’s too big and dirty and unfriendly and everyone has their job and their life and everyone is tired. Therefore I realised how unique and fantastic this meeting was. She worked in  clothing retail and had been out, that particular night, having a cocktails with her workmates. It was pure coincidence that we met, and pure coincidence that we would never see or talk to each other ever again.

She miss her first bus, and she got on the second bus. It was cold so I gave her my Topshop jacket which I bought in Paris on tour. I really loved that jacket but she took it home with her with pleasure. It did suit her very well though. I can honestly say I have never been as attracted to anyone ever as when she was departing, looked me dead in the eyes and whispered ‘I like you, call me tonight.’ This girl was awesome, but as with all girls of late, I called that night…and she didn’t answer.

It was a lovely memory created, but with a terrible ending. A fleeting moment of time where one is present and in love with the magic of life. To all the Clare’s out there, thank you for making me happy instantly. Perhaps we’ll meet again.

TigerPaws Jnr 04.06.2013

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