He was a three.

I realized with a little shiver. A metal-legged spider scampered up the ladder of my spine and curled itself into a cold, tingling ball just beneath the back of my skull. A perfect, perfect three. As humans, we like threes, but rarely have I encountered such a dedicated one.

He got on at North Acton, travelling East at 6:33 every weekday morning and, as far as I could tell, he started doing this on the third of March. He chose the third compartment from the end of the train, picked the third seat from the door on the left hand side. He always wore a suit jacket with three buttons, and had triple-eyelet black oxfords on his feet. Nicely shined, I might add.

What clinched it for me was that, after watching him for several weeks, I noticed that when the third seat on the left hand side was occupied, his body language altered. He wouldn’t sit elsewhere. He just hovered, waiting until it came free and then he’d snag it.

The days piled up, and I grew to anticipate the arrival of his threeness. As the train pulled into North Acton, adrenalin flooded my bloodstream, my nipples seized and my cunt started ticking like a clock. I’ll admit that I attempted to lure him by exhibiting a bit of threeness myself, just to see if he’d notice. But he had an annoying habit of plunging into a paperback novel the minute he sat down.

After 24 days of consecutive, gorgeous, elegant workday threenesses, I was in love. In a bold move, I decided to take his seat.

When he boarded the train, the subtle but perceptible physical tension caused by my disruption of his pattern was thrilling. By the time we reached Notting Hill Gate, I nearly relented and relinquished the seat, but I clenched my teeth and held my ground, learning to enjoy the sharp spikes of anxiety that forked off his body like a Tesla coil. Just before we pulled into Bank – the station he got off at – his eyes met mine with a look of such pure hatred, it sucked all the air out of the train compartment. I almost came right there on the tastefully patterned grey upholstery.

Although it was normally my habit to ride the underground for a further two hours, I couldn’t hold out that long. Alighting at my usual stop, I ran home, and spent the rest of the morning producing imaginary porn in which he stroked his cock in increasingly frenzied sets of triplets. I frigged myself raw, matching his waltzing bouts of masturbation. Of course, I could have stopped at three, or six, but nine orgasms seemed the most appropriate number, a celebration of the triptych in the most sincere sense.

The next morning, my heart raced all the way from Ealing Broadway to North Acton. I usurped his seat and waited, trying to tamp down steamy visions of him pulling out his cock and ejaculating on me in a fit of pique. The minute he boarded the train, he noted the occupied seat with an audible huff. He caught my eye again, this time with a more measured expression of grave disappointment, and tried to pull my gaze, with exaggerated urgency, to the empty seats on either side. I pretended not to notice.

After some minutes of intense glaring, he bent a little forward and, in a low, gruff voice, said, “Would you mind moving one seat over?”

What I really wanted to say was: “I love your threeness, please fuck me!” But I didn’t. “Not at all,” I replied, trying to sound breezy, and shifted to the right, melting between the legs as he settled next to me.

Did he know he was a three? I wondered. Pulling the ubiquitous paperback out of his briefcase, he began to read. I closed my eyes, letting the train rock me, allowing my mind to plunge, over and over and over, into lewd pools of explicit threenesses. My reverie was only interrupted when his arm brushed mine, as he bent forward to put his book back into his briefcase. His stop was next.

Gathering up my courage, in the middle of the tunnel, as I heard the train begin to brake for Bank, I touched his arm, purposefully, three times. He looked confused, slightly embarrassed. I didn’t say anything, or look at him. Diligently, I stared ahead at the window that pretended it was a mirror in tunnels. As it turned back into a window, sliding into the station, I watched him get up and leave the train.

That day, I didn’t allow myself escape. I rode the train as usual and tried to look for other patterns. I spotted lots of other threes, but fours and fives and sixes eluded me. Only then did I realize I’d become so obsessed with his threeness, I had stopped being able to recognize any others. This, I admit, was disconcerting.

It took three more morning encounters before he touched me back. In the tunnel approaching his destination, with his nose still buried in his book, he moved his thigh until it touched mine and pressed it three times. The incident was so powerful, I got off at Liverpool Station, quivering, and availed myself of the privacy of a stall in the ladies public toilet.

The following day, before we’d even reached Marble Arch, he crossed his arms over his chest and, holding his book in front of his face with one hand, touched my arm three times with the fingertips of the other. My pussy flooded. Just before Bank, I responded, nudging his leg with my knee.

Unable to hold my tongue anymore, I turned and whispered, “You’re such a three.”

His eyebrows rose as he carefully closed his book. For a moment, he had difficulty speaking. Then he swallowed and said, “I take the 4:20 train home.”

49 Responses

  1. Something in this makes me want to read this as the secret love affair of an obsessive-compulsive… But that might just be me reading myself into the story! Still, the repetition and the focus was great… Although the 4:20 at the end broke it up a bit. I suppose, though, if you added four and two, you would get six, which is, indeed, a three.

    1. This story is wonderful. It would flesh out beautifully into a futuristic novel where there is some ambiguity as to whether the protagonist’s classification of people as 3s etc is a social construct that organizes society or only her perception. The novel could play with ideas of patterns in the broader culture and perhaps create a class system around them. But ultimately it would just be a fun way to explore in depth a relationship between these people, their patterns, and all the sexy tension that can create. If it somehow folded in dystopian elements, all the better! Lol, I just want an excuse to read a whole novel about this.

    1. I started out answering this comment politely but decided… what the fuck.

      I stepped out of the story in a place I felt was appropriate. You don’t like it? That’s perfectly fine. Luckily, a publisher did like it, and published it this way.

      But when you demand I ‘finish’ it, what you’re saying is: give this story the ending I want.

      And my answer to that is: do it yourself.

  2. This makes me giggle because the stations you mention are very close to my house.
    In other words, I’m always a huge fan of your writing and must say they do provide heaps of pleasure to my masturbation sessions. Thank you.

  3. i chuckled too lol she will be stuck on threes now for quite some time i think, no one will understand her arousal by number lol

  4. I love this. I really thought it was clever and beautifully written. It’s the first of your stories that I have read and I will certainly be checking out a lot more of your stuff. Congrats of such an interesting and well thought out piece of writing. True quality.

  5. Love the way you have taken something seemingly ordinary like traveling on the train (paging Dr Freud) and turned it into a deliciously erotic adventure. So many questions left: the narrator riding the underground for 2 hours each day a normal commute or hunting for patterns? Was she looking for someone to synchronise her pattern with? Who else might be on the train watching her patterns and fantasising? You’ve just made traveling on public transport fun again.

    1. Hello Seldom,
      I’m so glad you liked the story. And I’m delighted it left you with questions. I always think it’s more enriching to leave a reading with questions than go away with answers (since they are never really useful anyway). I love your notion of who else on the train might be watching HER patterns. That’s recursive and wonderful.

      I do love traveling on public transport. It’s a great opportunity for people watching.

  6. Kudos.

    Quite simply stunning and very unexpected. I thoroughly enjoyed that story, which was the first I have read of yours. A good balance of tension, thought and the familiar put into context.

    I will never see the number three in the same light again – it will join six and nine which already have their own associations.

  7. intrigued, hooked, engaged
    grateful
    the one touch is such a powerful event
    that the three, i think, would just dissolve me
    or fuck me into lava

    thankyou

  8. This one amused me but in a good way. I found it endearing and it reminded me of a pattern of events that get myself turned on. It was nice to see such an odd thing be sexual, but it must be the pattern.

  9. I loved your story. I love all stories about masturbation. Especially from a female perspective.
    Nicely done.

  10. Of course all mathematicians know the intellectual allure of numbers, but your story adds an extra sexual dimension ,…..

  11. oh my goodness, I really enjoyed this story, just as a story and not even for the erotic component. It was interesting to me to think about someone person watching just for the fun of it. I personally can’t imagine that, because I’m typically afraid of most strangers, but I really enjoyed getting to think about watching people with out being afraid of them.

  12. Enjoyed the story. The idea of a woman with a numerical paraphilia compulsive searching for, and finding, a man under a similar compulsion is erotic in itself. Was thinking his train home should have been 4:12, because four goes into twelve three times, but perhaps they’ve more unfulfilled passion and stamina than that. 😉

  13. Not what I expected but definitely a delightful read. I’m not sure why I was so satisfied because I normally look for a completely different type of short stories, always erotic, but I really loved this. Left me to imagine and that’s the best part of reading, especially erotica. Leaves me with my own blanks to fill in with what I like. So, my point is, thank you for sharing. Much appreciated. I look forward to more.

  14. I loved this story! Quick, vivid, descriptive, even more so as I’ve done the transit thing and like to watch people, as muchas one can do thes days w/o getting confronted.

  15. Just came across your site and this is the first thing I’ve read. I must say that I rather enjoyed it. The ending was just prime! I will definitely be going on to reading whatever else you have to offer.

  16. I have always seen patterns of 3. And it is ever present in my life. I loved the story and it caught my attention right away. Thank you.

  17. I don’t know what to say. I caught the rhythm immediately and enjoyed the ride. Pure alchemy of imagination. Holy cow. I’m inspired.

  18. I’ve just stumbled across your website hoping to find something a little titillating to read to my lover. And what a reward! This is sublime. I am a new fan and can’t wait to draw my SO into your worlds, as well.
    Thank you for this. Truly.

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