Monday, Eleanor awoke early – the sky in the East had barely begun to lighten. Remaining under the covers, she stretched, deliberately lengthening from fingertips to toes. Physically, she was exhausted, but her mind raced with visions of what the day – especially her commute home – might hold.
Memories of her subway ride the previous Friday evening flooded her brain. She'd been groped by an anonymous hand in the crowd. Rather than becoming angry, or feeling shame, Ellie found herself electrified. The rough probing of her assailant made her cum twice as she stood surrounded by a throng of oblivious passengers, and during the ensuing weekend, she'd made herself cum at least a dozen times while thinking about it.
As her body stirred, she debated whether she should get off again, or save it. Reluctantly, she decided to wait. Rising, she took a shower, and prepared for work.
Her outfit resembled the one she'd worn Friday – a short, loose black skirt; thin, white cotton leggings over a red lace thong, and a maroon silk blouse covering her matching demi-bra. The nipples of her perky 32B breasts poked out above the lace, brushing against the material of her top. Standing in front of the mirror, she arranged her shoulder-length, bottle blonde hair in a ponytail. Stepping closer, Ellie stared into her own soft hazel eyes.
"How am I going to make it through this?" she asked in a whisper, as her fingers patted her hips.
Forcing herself to turn away, she sat on the edge of the bed, and donned her sneakers. She stuffed a "sensible" pair of heels in her backpack, pulled on a jacket, switched off the lights, and began her trek to the office. After stopping to pick up coffee, a bagel, and The New York Times, she trotted down the stairs to the subway station.
Boarding her usual car, she sat in her usual seat – marveling at the ease of finding one on the morning train versus the impossibility of doing so later in the day – she glanced at the usual people, then proceeded to eat, drink, and enlighten herself. Despite these diversions, Ellie again reflected on what had happened during her last ride. Although she didn't expect anything to happen this morning, her imagination blazed.
The hours seemed to drag by. She found it difficult to concentrate on anything but the clock. At last, quitting time approached, and she freshened up in the ladies room. Returning to her desk, she grabbed her things, and noticed lights on in the boss's office. The vertical blinds were closed – as always.
Ellie had yet to meet the executive. She'd been working at this firm for three years, and not once had she even run into him in the hallway. Her colleagues – the few who claimed to have interacted with him – described him as meticulous and driven, but definitely not a "people" person; preferring to designate that part of the business to others.
She wasn't complaining. Ellie was amply compensated for her labor, had the best benefits package amongst her small group of friends, and despite the rumored disconnect at the very top – unlike many companies that talked a good game – Bartleby & Partners truly took care of their employees. Ellie found the teamwork and dedication refreshing. Right now, however, it was the last thing on her mind.
Every part of her wanted to sprint to the subway, still she willed herself to walk. Standing on the platform, she glanced around, searching for Brian – the name she'd given the tall, dark, handsome man she'd never spoken to, but whom she fantasized about, and who she was sure had fingered her.
Though she couldn't see him, she didn't worry. He always seemed to end up near her. Her pussy tingled, and she focused on her newspaper, trying to divert her attention. Of late, she'd taken to reading erotic short stories via her tablet during the trip home. She didn't dare do so today; afraid that in her current state of excitement, she might explode; shattering into a million unsatisfied fragments.
Upon boarding, she weaved through the crowd, taking her place, standing near a safety pole in the middle of the car. Spreading her legs, she placed her bag at her feet, and watched as bodies crammed in. The doors closed, cutting off several individuals whose trip home just became that much longer, and the train began moving. As they left the station, entering dark tunnel, Ellie could feel the wetness between her legs, and the electricity coursing through her body. She waited...
Ellie trudged into her apartment. She couldn't help feeling disappointed. Nothing had happened on the train. Nothing! Not even, it seemed, the usual amount of inadvertent contact arising from the jostling of the ride. She moped around, and watched re-runs of The Big Bang Theory until bedtime.
Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday followed the same pattern. She dressed in a similar outfit, counted the minutes at work, and stood in the same place, on the same train car. Then spent the evening watching television until she fell asleep.
Homeward bound on Thursday, she'd tried bumping into Brian as he stood near her – pretending to have lost her balance as the car lurched. She smiled; brashly going so far as to wink at him. He steadied her with one hand – giving a polite nod – before returning to the copy of Esquire he held in the other. Discouraged, she went back to the article she'd been reading.
Friday, Ellie awoke with a faint glimmer of hope. She clung to it.
"Maybe today," she mumbled, standing in the shower.
Like those before it, the day limped along. After lunch, Ellie watched the clock. Her work finished, she had nothing to draw her attention from the bank of digital displays – each synchronized to the time in one of a dozen cities around the world – mounted above the windows of the boss's office. Almost hypnotized, she watched the bright red numbers change as seconds ticked by – every one stubbornly clinging to its fleeting illusory existence. One by one, Ellie's associates left, finding ways to begin their weekends early. Coming back from the ladies room, she noticed the boss's lights were out.
"Last man standing," she lamented.
She collected her belongings, doused the desk lamp, and left. As the elevator descended, her mood began to brighten. She set a brisk pace on her walk to the subway station; her confidence rising as she went. Bouncing down the stairs to the platform, she saw her train arriving.
"Perfect timing," she rejoiced.
Stepping aboard, Ellie occupied her usual spot in the crowded car, and took out her tablet. She felt people bustling behind her, trying to find seats, or a decent place to stand. She clenched the post, holding fast. As they began moving, a hand – large, warm, and strong – cupped the left cheek of her ass.
Her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she tensed, then commanded herself to relax. Not tentative like the previous week, he – it had to be a man, she thought – squeezed hard, kneading her flesh, then quickly slid his fingers down to the hem of her skirt. Her feet spread another inch, as if with a mind of their own, and he slid under and then upward. Already throbbing, she couldn't suppress a low moan when he brushed her pussy through the tights and panties.
Discreetly, Ellie angled left and right, trying to see the window, hoping to identify the intruder by using the reflection there, but a mass of humanity blocked her view. His movement halted, perhaps thinking her efforts were an attempt to escape. She wiggled her ass, signaling for him to continue. He began massaging her clit, while his thumb pressed against her asshole.
Fighting to control her breathing, Ellie closed her eyes – abandoning any pretense of reading her tablet. She felt like her entire being was vibrating, and struggled to avoid losing her balance. His manipulation grew more aggressive, threatening to push Ellie into the woman standing ahead of her.
During the week, her anger and frustration had grown unceasingly; like a powder keg, the danger built exponentially each time she considered that she might never again experience the euphoria she had the previous Friday. This violation provided the spark she desired. Ellie came; her body shuddering as the orgasm ripped through every nerve.
Despite efforts to control herself, she whimpered, and her knees gave out. She caught herself; her last ounce of strength enabling her to maintain a hold on the bar, and somehow remain standing. The euphoria coursing through her took nearly two minutes to reach a point where rational thought could resume.
Opening her eyes – sure she'd find every person on the train staring at her – she discovered those surrounding her engrossed in their own detached worlds...precisely as they had been before her climax. Drained, she braced herself against the metal support.
Brian had not ceased his assault; persisting as Ellie tried to recover. She wouldn't have the chance to do so. Her own body betrayed her. She trembled, and her hips swayed, causing the fingers to grind against her pussy. She tried to rock with the motion of the train, biting her bottom lip; desperate to stay quiet.
The pressure on her asshole increased. She thought – almost hoped – his thumb might tear through the fabric and penetrate her. Rising onto her tip-toes, she gulped for air. Ecstasy washed over her once more, drowning her senses. Her lithe frame convulsed as she came; an eruption of bliss blasting through her.
"Fuck," she hissed, not quite silently, as she relaxed.
Several people around her turned. Ellie, flushed, a sheen of sweat on her face, shrugged and mouthed "sorry." It didn't matter. Briefly distracted, they promptly proceeded with their own business. She was still quivering when the hand abandoned her. Slowly, her wits revived. Ellie's gaze rose, and she noticed her stop approaching. Resisting the urge to whirl around, she bent, stuffed the tablet in her pack, and then rearranged her skirt. When the doors parted, she concentrated on not staggering out of the car.
Ellie reached the stairs leading up to the street, and steeled herself for the climb. As she took the first step, someone tapped her shoulder. Half expecting to see Brian, she spun quickly.
"This is for you," a young man – perhaps 16 – said, holding out a small gift-wrapped package.
"I'm sorry," Ellie said, confused.
"The guy on the train asked me to give this to you," he said.
"What guy?" she asked, relieved to know this wasn't the person who'd made her cum.
"Some guy on the train," he said. "Gave me 20 bucks to make sure you got it."
"What did he look like?" she prodded.
"I don't know," the kid responded. "Tall, I guess."
"Tall?" she repeated. "That's it?"
"I gotta go," he told her, wandering away.
"Uh...thanks," she said to his receding back.
For several moments, Ellie gazed at the parcel in her hands. She yearned to rip away the paper and learn its contents, but resisted. Finally, she became aware of the commuters pushing past her, and pulled herself up the stairs. Torn, she made her way home. At her apartment, she plopped herself down on the couch, and contemplated the bright red wrapping. Her brain whirled with possibilities. When she could no longer withstand the temptation, Ellie opened it.
Inside, she found a carved mahogany jewelry box. Beautiful to be sure, though not exactly what she had expected. Lifting the lid revealed a piece of paper with a phone number, but no name, and a time – 10:00pm – written on it. Beneath that, lay a small, stainless steel butt plug with a ruby crystal base, and a bottle of water-based lubricant.
"Presumptive fucker," Ellie said, out loud.
Removing the bauble, she ran her fingers along the cold metal, caressing it.
"Well," she scoffed, "it's not the biggest thing that's ever been in there."
The dildo she'd played with the previous weekend was thicker than this tapered shape's broadest point. The memory brought a smile to her face, and intensified the heat between her legs.
There was no thought of not calling...until 9:59. Ellie sat on her bed, wearing only a thigh-length, pink silk robe. After dialing, her thumb hovered over the send button. Doubt invaded her fevered brain, and she tossed the phone aside.
