As with every day, I find my way onto the DC Metro system. One more long day is done at the International Spy Museum. It was not a very busy day, no one even said: "I wonder where she hides that." I am sure they all think they were the first to think of that one.
The Metro Station is as all a bustle as normal for my trip home. Mostly the same faces, the same suits, the same guys, just more of the sameness that is DC. On dull dreary days like this, I can get very melancholy and feel plain, regular, dull, and without life. It is even raining again, not like my old Seattle rain of endless drizzle but torrents of rain followed by sudden stops.
There are all these smart dressed men, in their power suits with the aura of aloofness and self-satisfaction. To them, I am an invisible girl. I feel sexy but my luscious curves and ample size do not seem to get even a glance from them, if only what they knew what I wore under my work attire some days or what goes on in my head.
Today, I am strutting around in my black 3-inch chunky heels with the little straps around my ankle, a silky cream-colored blouse, and my form-fitting black skirt that overlaps in front that gives me extra room to walk. Even had matching pearls in my ears to the strand double looped around my neck and hanging down most of the way to my cleavage that often moved with them as I walked around.
Under the blouse, I am wearing an eggshell satin and lace bra while under the skirt is a matching silky panty trimmed in lace. Below all that is a humble garter belt holding up my black hose. I feel sexy but no matter how much I try, I never catch someone looking me over so I pop open one extra button on my blouse. A girl can hope.
The Red Train arrived about on time. I have long since given up tracking arrival and departure times. I enter, moved towards the seat I often ride. I am a creature of habit, at this point, the train is not well populated. As we go stop to stop, it keeps adding up till we start reaching suburbia and then the population ebbs its way back out.
The ride to Rockville is a long one and I take the window seat, When I sit at the seat, I usually drape my left arm on the back of the seat to my left. This often discourages most people from sitting there but every so often someone wants to sit and it forces them to look at me but mostly just to get a "May I sit here?" question to me glancing at me and my arm. Eventually, I pretend to understand what they mean and move my arm.
Sitting in my seat, I keep my head turned slightly and staring out the window, detached from everything. I gave up watching people months ago. Just relaxing, slightly slouching and in an unladylike posse with my right foot on the bump coming up off the floor along the wall.
At the next stop, to my surprise, a gentleman sits beside me, even with my arm behind him. He seemed unconcerned and it is not like I even have time to move it, so I just left it.
"Hey," he said without glancing my way while sipping his Starbucks iced tea.
"Hey," I reply without looking away from the window, parroting him on instinct alone.
With a sneeze, I cover my mouth with my right hand but my left ends up giving him a bit of a hug as I inadvertently tried to bring it over my mouth.
"Gesundheit mein fraulein." he said and patted me on the leg.
He did not just pat my leg, he left his hand there. Taking a cue from him, I flick my thumb along his shoulder, while not breaking my view of nothing.
Getting no resistance to his advances he began to rub his hand along my thigh through the fabric of my skirt and hose causing my heart to race. No one has ever been this forward and this eager before. I can get used to this. Scared but enjoying it.
I moved my left knee to the left, spreading my legs wider, surprised by my own boldness but I love the attention, I need the attention. Shivers overtook my shoulders as his fingertips found their way between the folds of my skirt and I could feel them on my smooth skin and over my stockings. Sometimes caressing and sometimes messaging me as he explores my legs and mostly between my thighs, sometimes crossing over my panties as he goes from leg to leg causing me to jump.
Not getting any resistance, he continued on.
Stretching his arm, he plunged his hand completely under the skirt gliding his hands across my silky fabric, guided it deep between my legs and over my mound. This emboldened me to raise my left arm up from the seatback to touch his neck, jaw, and ear, tracing the edges with my fingertips, as I would do with an old lover.
His fingers found their way around my satin panties, easily gliding up and down over my pussy. So soft and smooth with a passion of well-traveled fingers knowing where to go and how to touch for maximum pleasure through the thin fabric.
