A tramp

The envelope sat alone on the bench, white against the dark wood, almost humming with its secret. Emma held her coffee tight, her pulse louder than the rolling suitcases and distant platform announcements.

Beside her, Mark leaned casually against the kiosk rail, his eyes fixed on the waiting area. “Patience,” he murmured, as though sensing her breathless anticipation.

Emma nodded faintly but couldn’t tear her gaze away. Any moment now, someone would see it. Someone would open it. Someone would see her.

And then, almost on cue, he appeared.

The tramp shuffled across the concourse, a white tangle of hair spilling around his weathered face. His beard was stained at the mouth, with whisky and scraps of old food clung stubbornly to the wiry strands. His clothes looked as though they’d been scavenged from three different lifetimes, a torn suit jacket hanging loose over a duct-taped raincoat, filthy tracksuit bottoms tucked into odd trainers, fingerless gloves frayed at the palms.

Emma’s breath hitched as she watched him rummage through a nearby bin, pulling out a crushed coffee cup, then tossing it aside. His movements were slow, distracted, but then his eyes caught on the envelope.

For a moment he hesitated. Then, with a grunt, he plucked it up, turning it over in his grimy fingers. He sat heavily on the bench, tore it open, and pulled out the stack of photographs.

Disappointment flickered across his face at first, no money. But then… the change. His expression lit with an almost boyish delight as his eyes scanned the first photo. His cracked lips parted, his breath escaping in a shaky laugh. He shuffled through them, one after another, then back to the start, staring harder each time, his tongue darting to wet the corners of his mouth.

Emma pressed a hand to her chest, trembling, her eyes wide.

“Oh God,” Mark muttered, watching her instead of the tramp. “I know that look. The last time you had it, we ended up adopting that stray mutt. It shat on the carpet and destroyed all my shoes.”

Emma turned to him, smiling faintly, her lips pressed together as if to contain the rush of warmth in her chest. Then, before Mark could stop her, she stepped away.

Her heels tapped across the tiles until she stood a few feet from the tramp. He noticed her at the last second, snapping the pictures tight to his chest as though they were gold he feared to lose. His wide eyes met hers, wary but ****.

Emma tilted her head, her voice soft, almost tender. “It’s okay. You can keep them. They’re pictures of me.”

For a heartbeat, silence hung between them. Then his face cracked into a smile, revealing gaps where teeth had once been. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in years.”

Something inside Emma melted at the words. Her hand slipped to the belt of her coat, her breath quickening. "Would you like to see more" she said for a second was worried that his nodding would break his neck

Emma looked around, the coast was clear, her coat opened and she pulled up her dress exposing her hairless pussy, the tramps breath caught and he reached out "Sorry not here" said Emma a tingling excitement filling her.

Mark signed "Its the bloody dog all over again".