Handsoff Ch 02

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Took a while, but here's chapter two of Mike and Lily's odd little beginning! Bit slower to start/longer burn kinda thing.

Hope you enjoy, and I appreciate feedback/comments!

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A Connection made, sorting through the curiosity and confusion of its component constructs. Embarrassment, piqued interest, arousal... all compounding and forming a nebulous framework trembling in anticipation of continuance.

***

Lily:

The day: Still delightful, but in an all new and novel way.

I pinch myself.

Ouch!

"Well, it's not a dream. And this phone here would make 'Mike' no invention of mine either..."

What can I even do with this kind of situation?

...What do I want to do?

I consider the phone. Nice enough, but a couple of years old. Heavy black rubber case, well worn. Uncracked screen under a recently replaced screen protector.

80% battery.

Mind made up, I swipe the screen with my thumb again and pull up the emergency contacts: Hmm, parents, probably a sibling, ah! "River Roommate" should work.

I hit "call", and hold the phone up to my ear. It rings a couple of times, then with a click:.

"Mike! What's up? How'd the interview go? You ok, you don't usually call without a reason?" A pleasant, mid range to husky voice. Happy enough to get a call, seems genuinely interested in the answer to the questions asked, colored with a genuine touch of concern.

What's with guys and never updating their contacts? This sounds like a genuine, caring friend, not just a roommate.

I start chatting "Is this River? My name's Lily, I saw Mike drop this phone on the train before he got off, was hoping I could get it returned to him?"

"Wha-... Oh! That's fantastic! Well not that he lost it, but I'm glad you found it and reached out!" Consternation, some minor amusement. "Do you want to meet up somewhere to pass it off? I can get it back to him when he gets home."

"Err..." Thinking about it, I had an idea. Well, an impulse. Probably a bad idea, *good* girls don't go to a stranger's place sight barely seen, especially one they just made cum in his pants in front of a train car with people in it... but something tells me it's the right thing to do. I want to know what the heck is going on... And how to get off like that again.

"I'm on the E-train outbound, around Ashburn. What's your address, it's out this way, yeah? I can just swing by and drop the phone off!"

"Ah, that'd work! Just a couple of stops down, get off at Regency, then..." River proceeds to describe a neighborhood and address not actually too far away from mine. Nice enough area, close to the train and some nightlife spots, heading towards yuppie but not there yet. "-Then down the steps to the left and hit the doorbell. I appreciate it, and I'm sure Mike will too!"

"Alright, thanks for the directions, I'll see you in a bit then!" End the call.

I take the next couple of stops to order my thoughts and consider. I'm still not entirely sure I know what I want out of this, but I do want to know more. About whatever this was, how it works, why it's doing the exact things it is. Why Mike? Who is Mike anyway? Is he actually as responsive and moany in real...

I cut that thought off and shoot Emily a text to let her know I'm up to no good with a boy (Gasp!) and where I'm going just in case.

The rest of the trip is quick and unremarkable, stepping off the train and out of the train station into one of those older neighborhoods that's seeing patchwork organic restoration and revitalization. Nice day for a walk, and my feet take me down a residential, rowhouse style street with older, original trees, stopping in front of a classic brick dealy with a worn marble stoop and staircase up to the front door.

Instead, I dip left and under as directed to the described basement entrance, then hit the doorbell.

***

Mike:

Nearly hyperventilating, I managed to find a bathroom in the station and get myself cleaned up.

Or as much as I can anyway, the fuck can I do about the massive, growing wet splotch on my pants aside from dab at it and wait?

Oh, I suppose I could realize that I've lost my phone too and nearly cry in frustration. That'd sure be a thing I can absolutely do.

What a fucking egregious day.

I wash my face again to cool off a bit, consider my options. No phone, but still have my wallet/keys, etc. I can get home on the train, then work on getting my phone deactivated and wiped. Got an undershirt, so I can use my oxford as a like, waist wrap like you can do with a sweater. Weird's better than a pervert, right?

Evidence so carefully concealed I nervously leave the bathroom, checking around. Platform isn't crowded, so I go and wait for the train.

Which gives me plenty of time to think about my sins, since, y'know, no phone to distract me.

Look, I gotta face it right up, wild lack of consent and utter public humiliation aside, that was the hottest damn thing that's ever happened to me. Pushed so many buttons, even ones I hadn't ever acknowledged beyond some casual mental "hmmm's".

...and the consent/humiliation bits aren't too far off the mark either.

Sod. That poor woman. I check around nervously again, making sure there's no cops pointing and going "It's the notorious traincar pervert who goes around cumming in his pants at innocent people!" and locking me away forever.

...I might be a touch dramatic in my own head.

I sincerely hope I never run into her again and that she's not absolutely traumatized. God knows her shocked, horrified, cute face will forever be burned into my psyche.

The next train comes, I get on and find a corner to sulk in while keeping my shirt carefully arranged.

Staring around in a funk my eyes light on the overhead handles and I find myself blushing. It was almost like being tied up, helpless. Made worse (Better?) because I did it to myself. With the mysterious touch (Still don't even know what to think about that.) it was like being blindfolded without being blindfolded?

I feel my cock stirring and begin to press against the cold moistness on my boxers. Goddamnit.

Thud. Thud. Thud. I slowly knock my head against the window and then fight my circular, horny thoughts all the way home. Off the train at Regency, then through the neighborhood as quick and unnoticeable as I can manage, right onto Peachtree Street (There's no peach trees. Why? Dunno.) and then I'm home.

Sighing in relief I pull my keys out and duck under the steps, already feeling the tension of the last eternal hour start to unwind. I'll get in, take a shower, do laundry and just wash the stickiness off of me and my soul.

The door clicks open with the turn of my key and I hear voices down the entryway from the kitchen. Sod, River's got someone over. I can feel myself re-tense as I prepare myself to bum rush through and be no more than barely polite.

I hang my keys next to the coathooks, a strangely familiar canvas green jacket hanging up with the rest twinging sourceless alarm bells. My heart beats faster for no reason that I can tell, and I walk around the corner into the kitchen a bit distracted.

"Hey River, I'll get out of your way..."

...Ohhhhh, fuck me. It's the train woman. Sitting at my island. Laughing and chatting with my roommate.

I lock up for the second time today, mouth open, staring at her.

***

Lily:

Mike's roommate River is a goddamn treasure!

Firstly, they're just about the cutest thing. Perfect bob, fucking *perfect* cat's eye makeup around some sparkly dark blue eyes which is just, like, not fucking right for casual hanging around the house. Doesn't quite match up to the casual sporty top and yoga pants they open the door in for sure.

Also a freaking 4 pack right there on display, front and center. Toned as hell, framing a little amethyst stud at the top of their navel, what the fuck?

Piercings are apparently a thing for them, belly button, lip ring on the right side, tiny nose stud on the left, couple of small rings on the brows, and if they shook their head I'm sure their ears would jingle.

...I wonder what I can't see?

And tattoos. Or is it tattoo, singular? Some long, feathery but sinuous ink job seems to wrap *everywhere* on their right side, dipping under and out from their top and waistline.

Did I say cute? I meant a freaking smokeshow. Like, I need to go home and do some crunches, stat!

"Lily! That was quick, thanks for dropping by so soon, I'm sure Mike's just panicking over losing his phone, the dear! I can take it and give it to him when he manages to get home?"

Secondly, they really seem to care. Serious note of affectionate exasperation in their downright husky tones, and for all they're smiling there's some stormy brow wrinkles looming over it all.

"River! Couldn't help myself, nothing else going on and I had to get my good deed in for the day. Honestly, would you mind if I hung around til Mike gets here? I'd like to give him the phone myself, maybe chat him up a bit?"

I grin at them hopefully, a bit uncertain. Not every day a random woman shows up with your roommates cell phone and asks to hang out.

Er. Crap. Is it just roommates?

River's expression goes flat a moment, cocks their head to the side and gives me an evaluating once over.

Come on, I don't wanna go weirdo stalker, I gotta figure out what's going on with all this!

River suddenly flashes a grin, then bubbles with laughter.

"You know what? I think Mike could use the kick. Might pull him out of his shell even!" They pull aside, gesturing grandly down the short entry hallway. "Entrez s'il vous plait! Coats on the hook, shoes under the bench!"

I step in, following instructions to divest myself of Converses and jacket, while River wanders off to the next room.

A bout of nerves strikes me, what am I doing? I followed a strange guy home because I might have accidentally given him a psychic handjob? Cause I've never spontaneously orgasmed before, or even ever cum so hard?

...because his O-face collapsing into dire humiliation was just about the most incandescently exciting expression I've ever seen?

It's a little more real standing in this unfamiliar apartment. Different spaces, different smells. Not bad, just unique in that way that everyones lived-in home is. Dark colors, that ubiquitous fake wood click together flooring in modern flips.

I'm dithering. I want to know. What this is, why him, why me... why does it all just work so right?

Resolved, I grab Mike's phone out of my jacket pocket, then walk sound the corner into the next room, the kitchen apparently.

"So, River, I need to ask, why the cats-eye? Don't get me wrong, it's basically perfect, but overkill for being at home, ya?"

Turns out they're practicing for an event they're going to later this week, and had just gotten it locked in when I called.

They grab us some water, and we chat sitting at the kitchen island.

It's a bit halting at first, we cover the basics.

Jobs: Them: Home decorating consultant with some artsy dabbling, Me: Nurse.

Where from? Them, Halfway across the country, Me: Local suburbanite.

How we met Mike? Them: school through mutual friends, Me: Uh.

Stroke of luck on the train.

It flows better from there, we start to chatter and chuckle like old friends, oversharing in the best and worst of ways to a near stranger. They hear about my issues with work and working way too much, and I get a crash course in the titillating myriad of issues that someone with a multitude of piercings all over can run into.

We exchange contact info.

What? Even if this thing with Mike turns out to be a fluke, it's not often you run into someone who's willing to talk weird, fascinating, *personal* piercing issues with you after 10 minutes.

...Who also happens to look like an androgynous deity of toned flexibility.

It's not too much longer later that we hear the door push open, hurried steps down the hallway. Then Mike steps into the kitchen, hurrying and almost hiding his face. He's disheveled and red faced, his shirt tied around his waist showing off some burly, hirsute shoulders.

He starts to say something, but the blood's rushing in my ears.

He halts, half turns... and stops. Dead white. Mouth open.

I stand, by some miracle not tripping or knocking over the chair, and step over, proffering Mike's phone.

***

Mike:

To be entirely honest, I'm not entirely sure what I'm saying, much less what she is. Gibberish probably, some combination of "Oh god I'm so sorry", "Please don't hurt me/have me arrested", and flailing attempts at "HOW?!?!" or "WHY?!?!".

Mostly comes out as a squeak. Quite a bit of stammering.

She's stepping closer, raising a hand, and I raise my hands like to fend her off.

She simply reaches out gently, slowly, with one finger... and rests it on my lips, cutting off my useless word salad.

It's surprisingly warm. Centering? Like it's the only thing in the world that matters.

Looking me levelly in the eye, light blue eyes sparkling but serious, leaving her finger on my lips.

"Hello Mike. I'm Lily. I brought your phone 'cause you forgot it, but I think we should talk about... the whole train thing, ok?"

There's a silence for a moment, she looks at me expectantly, head to the side.

The moment stretches... and River interjects "You... uh... still have him shushed."

River looks nonplussed, just watching confusedly.

Lily (Damn, what a lovely name!) drops her finger suddenly, like she touched something scorching. "Sorry! Just felt like you needed someone to stop you from babbling, are you ok?"

She's asking me if I'm ok? Hell, she looks... nervous?

What?

"I'm... good. Just surprised to see you again after I, uh, embarrassed myself on the train?"

River comments and I flush, reminded again that there's an audience. "He'd be better if he stopped losing his phone, hardly a week goes by without him asking 'Hey, can you call my cell?'. Need to get him a lanyard or a leash or something."

Lily blushes and looks away at that, then speaks up. "Ah, River? Do you mind if I talk to Mike alone for a sec? I don't mean to abandon you, just there's something I need to discuss with him."

A silver ring flashes as River arches their eyebrow. "Huh. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Then shoo's us off, waving with both of their hands.

I stare blankly at Lily for a second "Uhhhh, my room? I guess, if that's ok?"

"That'll do, lead on Mike."

Oh hey, more anxiety. Does my room smell? Is there, somehow, a whole gorgonzola cheese under the mattress? Has someone suddenly decided to prank me with a blowup doll in my bed?

Going through the living room, past River's room and the bathroom, I step with the leaden stride of a man going to damnation, opening the cheap interior door and gesturing Lily through.

Alright, honestly it's not that bad. I'd forgotten I'd cleaned up this morning, doing a "clean space, clean mind" bit before I got dressed and left for the interview. Even made the bed and straightened up my desk.

I sigh. Left the paint and miniatures out though, thought my afternoon was going to be the usual empty of obligation unless River had me tag along to something.

While I'm maundering, Lily walks over to the bed and sits on it like it's hers, pulling her legs up and crossing them while leaning forward. She looks at me without a word for a moment while I fidget awkwardly, standing in the middle of the room.

She really is attractive. Pretty eyes, pink, soft looking lips, a very classic all-American girl-next-door kind of face. The asymmetric haircut adds depth to that, breaking the mold in a good way.

Huh, given the moment to look dead on, her nose is slightly crooked, slightest bend to the right. Probably a bit self conscious about that.

Fuck it. I grab my desk chair, haul towards the bed, then sit. "So... you wanted to talk?"

Lily takes a deep breath. "Yeah. On the train... why you came. I think it was me."

Er. What? I just stare at her.

She continues, her voice shaking a bit, gripping her pant legs in her hands. "I have a, a habit of people watching on the train. Making guesses and running a monologue about what I think they'd be like, uh, sexually. You got on the train and I started fantasizing, about... well. Touching you. And then you came at the same time I imagined making you cum... In about the same position. Uh, hanging from the ceiling handgrips."

That's... what? There's some layers to unpack here. I'm flattered that she was thinking about me, but... she thinks she caused the whole thing?

Well, I suppose that would be less strange than getting a handy from a ghost, but only just. Not the hardest to confirm either, she had her eyes closed most of the time. Guess I can just ask her what exactly the hands were doing?

Clearing my throat "I... think you might be right. A few minutes after I got on the train and sat down, I started getting, uh, touched by hands I couldn't see or stop. Ah, would you mind telling how you were fantasizing? The details, to see if they line up?"

Lily blushes, the pinkest I've seen yet, spreading down her neck..

She ducks her head "First, uh, I thought about feeling you up over your pants, teasing you a bit til you were hard. Then I pulled your zipper and reached through it and your boxers' fly to feel your... cock."

She stutters a moment on that last word, shifting her hips in place.

My cock jumps a bit at the recollection, also reminding me I'm *still* sticky.

Continuing "Then I pulled you out, so I could see it. Gently looked at it for a minute, poked it around. You're a bit above average size, uncircumcised? Trimmed pubes, but not like you last did it last night. Shaft curves slightly to your right, and has a mole on the underside of the shaft."

Well, shit. That's eerily accurate.

Following her description "I trimmed Saturday. And the rest is, well, accurate. Description-wise. Did you... ah, think about shushing me with your finger like you did in the kitchen just now? And lightly slap and squeeze me right before I stood up?"

Lily's blush is spreading, moving down off her neck and onto her decolletage.

Look, I know what a "decolletage" is. I read anything and everything, including a fair amount of romance and erotica. Classier than cleavage... and better than saying I'm having a hard time keeping my eyes off her chest.

...Which I am.

More confidently she confirms "Yeah. I was looking you over, then shushed you when I thought you might protest. Kept playing with you til I had you stand up. Got your attention with a tap to your cheek, then after you were standing I started playing with your balls while still stroking. And you got very wet."

Oh, hey, my turn to blush harder and stutter a bit. "How... How did you finish me off?"

Yep, she's completely red. I'm completely red. It's really warm in here, is the AC working?

Looking me dead in the eye, Lily confirms the whole thing really happened "I lubed my finger up in your wetness, then slipped my finger in your ass. Didn't take much pressure on your prostate to make you spurt."

I look down, on fire. "I'd... never had anything in me like that before."

Lily goes white, then asks rapidly (Desperately?) "Did you like it?"

I...

Just how do I feel about this? Like I need a week to overthink it, panic about unreasonable societal expectations? Write it in my diary, talk to a therapist, get roaring drunk and/or high as a kite?

Not just the forced anal orgasm, or even the weird fantasy cum reality handjob thing we have going on, but about the whole thing. Her.

Lily.

She, after all the weird shit on the train, decided to track me down to my home, spent a while chatting up my roommate, just to return my phone and figure out who the real pervert was?

Her hands are gripping her legs so tightly they've gone bloodless, pale. She's invested in my answer, more than just curiosity.