I was on the way back from Manchester, and I was alone. I’d stopped off at… somewhere, I’m not entirely sure where… but the station was empty, for myself, an unassuming couple sitting on the bench, and a sleepy member of staff who looked as if he would rather be anywhere else, doing anything else.

I had used the combination disabled toilet / baby change, and to break up the tedium, I decided to spend the rest of my wait gaming in the customer lounge.

Said customer lounge was a large, sad, square room with uncomfortable wooden benches. I huffed my bag off my shoulders, fumbled for my Game Boy Advance, sat down gingerly, and was just about to push the power button when…


No, that was just my imagination. Let’s get back to Ice Climber.

Screenshot from "Ice Climber" (1985).
Ice Climber is a perfectly acceptable way to pass the time.


Okay, that was definitely real. I knew that sound, too. It was very familiar, and not just from porn (although that was, of course, the first place I’d heard it). I’d even made it a few times myself, despite never thinking I’d even get the chance.

But it was unmistakable, even without my prior knowledge. The telltale sound of flesh against flesh, skin meeting skin, pushing out the air between them and the very slight echo. Yeah. I knew what this was.

The only question was, where was it coming from?


Turned on, ashamed, I prowled around the room trying to puzzle out the mystery. A cursory glance around the platform outside and I noticed the lack of the couple on the bench. The sleepy guard was looking the other way… and there was no other activity.

Slap. Slap. Slap.
“Mmm… mmm… mmm!”

As the slaps and moans increased in terms of pitch, tempo and volume, I could definitely discern the direction they were coming from. The wall to my left. The wall, the thin brick wall, to my left. The wall separating my empty customer lounge and the disabled toilet / baby change.

The disabled toilet / baby change! That suddenly made perfect sense! I was the single boy perfectly content to sit and play Ice Climber; they were the horny couple deciding it would be a better use of their time to go and have sex in the disabled bathroom. (I mean, I don’t blame them; I’ve done that.)

How decadent. How risqué. How blatant. How…



I even managed to pinpoint, through a sound I’m not even going to try and transcribe, what may very well have been an orgasm. It was certainly, if not that, a finishing move.

I didn’t quite get around to playing much of Ice Climber, but I did get my train. In fact, when it arrived, the couple were back on their bench, looking for all the world like nothing untoward had happened. Cool as you please, they stepped gracefully into a carriage. I followed suit, and as they swanned away into the milieu of seats, I traced them with my eyes…

…and regarded them with nothing short of ardent worship.