Trainwomen

Saw two really beautiful trainwomen today; I call them that because, of course, that's where I see them, ergo, "trainwomen..."

First was a brightly-bottled blonde (I know they keep dumping the "e" off of "blonde" but I just can't bring myself to do it) professionally attired in ivory slacks with a black blouse and a denim jacket. She looked sharp, had a great face, was petite -- of course, she knew how hot she looked, standing there reading her morning tabloid. Big eyes, wide mouth, big lips, petulant gaze. Pretty. Not my type, really, but I could recognize that she was honestly beautiful. All of the fellows on the train noticed her, at least the ones in range. It was funny, because nearby sat a brunette woman with big Jackie O shades on, with a look kind of like "Oh, sure, ogle the blonde, boys. Jerks."

The other was more interesting in a way -- young black woman who had a really striking face -- she could have been Denzel Washington's sister, the way she looked, with a high-cheekboned, regal beauty to her. Her eyes were big and black and had a gaze that could puncture plate glass. Her hair was long and looked to have tiny braided extensions woven into it. She didn't need that, I don't think -- she could have been bald and would have still been beautiful. Her skin was warmly dark. Her handbag was too big, kinda crappy, but she had a Razar (?) cellphone, the dark gray kind.