It is Friday, the day before Halloween. Even though it is the beginning of the day, you are already worn out from a long week! You board the commuter train, choosing a car that is not at all crowded. The last thing you want is a bunch of noisy babbling all around you! You slide into the seat with a weary sigh and lean against the window, mindlessly watching the world go by.
At the next stop, a most unusual woman steps from the platform into your car. You can't help but notice her. She looks rather like the Bride of Frankenstein, or the willing victim of a charming vampire. She is unnaturally pale, and sports a number of what appear to be scars, as well as a few fresh wounds. Blood, now congealed, has dripped a couple of inches from each of two small holes in the side of her neck.
As a ray of weak sunlight streams in the window, you realize you can see her body almost as easily as if she were naked! She is wearing a nightgown, long and white and made of a diaphanous lightweight cotton or linen. The neckline is round and dips quite low, showing some impressive cleavage, especially considering that she clearly is not wearing a bra. What else might or might not be under the gown is suddenly obscured as the train enters a tunnel.
At the next stop, you see that she is still standing just inside the door to the car, staring intently around the car and at the commuters on the platform. As an older woman approaches the door, she hisses at her like a cat or a snake, sending the poor woman scurrying to find a different car. Finally, the doors slide shut and the train begins to move again.
She floats through the train car, carefully examining the handful of other passengers before fixing her gaze on you. You glance up, and your eyes meet hers. You can't look away! She has you pinned down with her penetrating stare, as she glides closer and slips into the seat next to you. You are slightly unnerved. There are numerous unoccupied seats, but she has chosen to sit right next to you. Her presence feels eerie, and she looks even more frightening close up.
A cold chill washes over your body, until a realization dawns on you, and you smile to yourself in embarrassment. It's the day before Halloween! Some people are wearing costumes to their workplaces, and she is obviously one of them. You turn to her smiling and say, "Great costume!"
She says nothing, but again entraps you in her intense stare. It feels as if her eyes are boring into your very soul, but you still can't look away. You discover that her eyes appear to be continually changing color--from grey to blue to green and around again. You study her face and begin to doubt your recent sense of relief. What you had assumed just minutes ago was a "fright wig" now appears quite clearly to be her own hair. It is arranged in the clichéd "finger-in-a-light-socket" style, yet it seems to be completely natural and "un-done." What you assumed was a highly-skilled job of stage makeup also looks amazingly natural and "real." You remember having watched makeup artists apply fake scars and wounds, but again hers show no trace of makeup!
You finally manage to escape the lock her eyes have held on yours. You blink a couple of times, then turn to look out the window. It is then that you feel her hand on your thigh. You dare not look—you don't wish to become ensnared in her hypnotic eyes again. So you glance around the rest of the car, and find to your dismay that there are no longer any passengers in the car besides you, this strange woman, and a couple of "dudes" in their late teens or early twenties. They are glancing periodically at you and your seatmate, and sniggering.
It is then that you realize how cold her hand feels on your thigh. You still avoid looking at her again. But you feel the icy fingers lightly massaging your thigh, and crawling ever so slowly higher, toward your now-hardening manhood. You feel her chilly presence creeping closer to you, but still you resist looking to see what she is doing. An electric shock shoots from your brain straight to your cock at the moment you feel her nibbling at your ear. You jump a bit and gasp, and she responds by biting down on your earlobe HARD! This brings a small cry of pain and alarm from you, and a nervous giggle from the two young guys, who are now ogling at the scene. Your earlobe still in her teeth, she turns toward them and issues a low growl, like a warning from a lioness protecting her kill. They waste no time in responding, by making a beeline for the door to the next car.
You are now alone with this mysterious and potentially dangerous creature, and you are genuinely frightened. Her cold hand is now resting on top of your member, with only your pants and briefs separating it from your warm skin. She removes her teeth from your earlobe, and you seize the chance to attempt to escape. The train is slowing to a stop, and you proclaim, "Excuse me, this is where I need to get off!" But as you begin to stand, she pushes you back down forcefully with one hand on your crotch and one on your shoulder. Just as quickly, the freezing hands move to both sides of your face, as she turns your head toward her and captures you with her eyes again. They are now an icy blue, and look more fierce than before. And they have you completely mesmerized, unable to respond as she places her cold hand to your warm lips and says only, "Shhhh...."
You have barely had time to register the chill of her hand on your lips, when she replaces the hand with her lips! But unlike her hands, her lips are warm, almost uncomfortably hot. The cold hands are clasped behind your neck as she kisses you, grinding her lips into yours and forcing her tongue into your mouth. In spite of yourself, your moan into her hot mouth and your tongue responds to hers. She has now moved one cold hand back to your cock, which jumps at her touch, and she is pressing her generous tits, with rock-hard cold nipples, against your chest. Your fears are slipping into your subconscious as your arousal level increases. You are becoming aware of her strange and stunning beauty, both icy cold and kinetic. She seems to linger on the edge of movement, like a cobra coiled to strike or a panther prepared to pounce. Something about her embodies the sheer instinct that has driven animals to copulate for thousands of years.