New York's underground stayed relatively cool compared the concrete, steel, and glass furnace that made up the city streets in August. The subway cars used the cooler air from the dark, damp tunnels to alleviate the heat inside the cars, but that forced convection required the cars to be moving. This car was not moving.
Ann, was trying to stay calm, but the dark, claustrophobic subway car was not conducive to calming thoughts. She had been in this situation many times before. The power had gone out and everything came to a stop. It was usually something as simple as switching the power over from one grid to another, or they had to cut power for a minute to do some quick work on one of the electrified rails. It was never off for more than a minute or two, but it always felt like hours.
If there was another terrorist attack, this is what would happen. And from deep under the city, with no power or connection to the outside world, there was no way of knowing if this was just a regular power fluctuation or something much worse. There was a 99.9% of it being the first and almost no chance of the second, but as the moments ticked away like hours, Ann couldn't help but let her fears play out.
She stood tall and straight in the crowded car, almost hugging the metal pole in front of her, her two inch heels putting her at eye contact with the mostly male crowd. There were lights in the tunnel outside that ran on a different circuit, but they were spaced infrequently, and only a faint yellow glow filtered into her car, giving her little more than dark profiles of those around her.
Being in a darkened car, surrounded by strange men both frightened her and excited her. She wore a black, knee-length, pleated skirt designed to hide β what she considered to be β flabby thighs. In reality, they only appeared that way in comparison to the ghastly thin models that wandered around the city wearing skirts so short they made thongs look modest. And Ann was wearing a thong. Not because she thought it looked good on her, but because of the sweltering heat of the city above.
Any breeze was appreciated, and with her flared skirt swishing about as she walked, feeling the air on her bare butt cheeks was appreciated. She wore regular cotton panties in the winter, but couldn't take the heat in the summer.
Thinking about it, Ann swished her hips a little now, feeling the breeze on her ass and sighing. At least it wasn't so crowded that she bumped people with her hips. She wondered if anyone could even see her hip wiggle. She realized she was holding onto a pole and could probably do a little pole dance routine and no one would even see. She swished again and bent her knees a little to flex her ass down a few inches. Her skirt flared out like a parachute briefly and the air felt really good.
One of the dark silhouettes at her right turned to look in her direction, and Ann stood up straight quickly, blushing slightly. She wasn't a stripper, not in her eyes anyway. Her friends liked to point out how many guys in the office checked her out as she walked by, but she discounted them quickly. She felt if they knew what her body looked like underneath, they wouldn't look. The wonders of the push-up bra, helped focus attention upward, away from her midsection where she tried to hide her curves with loose fitting clothes and flaring skirts. Again, she was comparing herself to impossible standards, but she still couldn't see herself as a sexy person.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she often thought she looked best in low light. She chuckled to herself as she thought that the light couldn't get any lower than it was now. She glanced down at her illuminated watch, wondering how many minutes the power had been off. It was probably less than two, but each second that passed took forever.
Her legs began to hurt from standing in heels, and the little flexing she had done earlier had felt good. She squatted again, deeper this time, noticing that if the lights had been on, anyone behind her would have gotten a quick view of her bare ass. She knew in this light that wouldn't be possible. Still, they might have seen the flare of the skirt. She didn't turn to see if anyone was behind her.
As one of the few women on the car, she could tell that the men around her had given her space. She tested that space now, putting weight on the pole in front of her as she stretched her legs by pushing her butt out behind her. They had given her quite a bit of room as she felt another pole behind her. She held that pose for a moment, the feeling of the hard cylinder between her cheeks exciting her further.
Then the pole flexed.
Ann quickly straightened her posture. It wasn't a pole. They aren't that close together on the car. Besides, a pole would have been cool to the touch, this had been warm. So what had it been? Someone's cane? The edge of a briefcase? Her mind wouldn't yet let her go where it wanted too?
It couldn't have been an erection. Surely any man who felt a strange woman press into him on the subway would have said something like, "Excuse me," or "Pardon." No one would just let you grind your ass into them like that. Would they?
Would they let her do it again?
Against every instinct in her being, she reached out again. She found it much more quickly now. It had moved closer. It clearly wasn't a pole or any other inanimate object. And as she held her pose curiously, it pushed back, grinding into her ass and flexing between her cheeks.