I am a rather conservative looking, middle-aged woman of average appearance and demeanor. I work as a school psychologist in Los Angeles. My boyfriend Frank is a studio musician who plays bass with many of the up and coming bands in the area. He's also in his late thirties, with sandy brown hair and of no particular physical distinction. He wears glasses and except for smoking pot, has no singular outstanding traits or characteristics.
We have been together for almost eight years, with no kids, just one scruffy looking dog that just showed up at our place one day. We live in Culver City where I work at a public middle school.
About three years ago I was bored and wanted to spice things up in our romantic life. We get along fine, but after a time every relationship either settles into a boring routine or busts up over one thing or another -- money, jealousy, careers, what have you.
So I decided to try something new with him. I asked him to accompany me late one night on the Metro train to downtown LA. The train runs through some seedy areas and while it's safe enough during the day, usually I don't ride it after dark.
However, this particular night, I decided to dress up in heels, a sheer, low cut tight white blouse, and a black miniskirt with no panties or stockings. It was a warm summer night, and while most people on the train wore jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers, when I walked onto the train my outfit caused quite a stir.
The train had mostly black and Mexican American people on it of various ages, no doubt coming home from the late shift, or out for a night after a ball game or some such thing. I scanned the train that I was on, and found a particularly handsome but somewhat low-income looking black man. He was tall, muscular, and built, with thick fingers and a strong, wide back.
I stood near where he was sitting and had instructed my boyfriend beforehand to stay close but act as if he didn't know me on the train. He had said sure, wondering what the heck was going on.
The handsome black stranger had a nice short Afro and was clean-shaven. I made eye contact with him, and our eyes lingered a bit longer than normal. I could tell he was attracted to me; his eyes scanned down my shape and lingered at my sheer blouse, and tight black skirt. I dropped my little bag and leaned over slowly so he could see I had no panties on, and as I slowly picked up my bag, I saw him staring hungrily at me. He could have likely seen my pussy, which was neatly trimmed, and crotch openly exposed without the white lace panties I usually wear.