He knew it was wrong, but he just couldn't help himself.
Sam was sitting in one of the many empty seats in the middle section of the evening train, his knapsack on the one beside him, and his attention only half on the book he was holding. The rest of it- most of it if he were being honest, was instead focused on the intermittent glances he made towards the seat at the far end of the car by the door.
Specifically, at the lady who was sitting there.
As of the most recent stop, they were the only two people left in this particular section of the train. In fact, given the late hour, they may be the only passengers left period. A couple of teenagers had gotten off three stops back, giggling drunkenly to themselves before stumbling off into the night, and an older man had vacated the car a few minutes ago, but the lady in the back remained.
She wasn't drop-dead gorgeous, but she was certainly on the attractive side of things. Short, strawberry-blonde hair cut an inch or two above her pale shoulders, a sensible red leather coat covering those same shoulders, and a pair of black leggings covering what looked even from a distance to be some rather shapely legs.
Yet lovely as all that was, it was all just window dressed compared to what had really caught his attention when she'd first stepped onto the train.
The pair of over-the-knee patent red leather heeled boots she was sporting.
When Sam's eyes had noticed those, the rest of the train might as well have ceased to exist. Beneath the glimmer of the dim lights of the car, he swore the boots were almost shining, a tempting beacon drawing his attention ever closer with every peak.
Sam tried not to be noticeable, peaking out of the corner of his eye or over the top of his book whenever it appeared that the woman was distracted with her phone or something else. But he wanted to steal as many glances as he could, never knowing when her stop would arrive and he would be without the sight of those beautiful boots.
For years, Sam had secretly ogled women in the street or on the bus or the train or online, his boot fetish in the driver's seat more often than not. But he had never gone further than looking. It seemed the safest course of action, and the easiest one to get away with. Most times, he would hide his glances beneath sunglasses, but given the time of day, wearing sunglasses at night was more than likely to make him appear suspicious, and that was the last thing he wanted.
Check that. The last thing he wanted was to be caught. But that had yet to happen, so he wasn't all that worried.
It had been several minutes since his last look, and with a sift breath, Sam lowered his book and peaked around the mess of empty seats between his and hers, only to find that this time, the object of his observation was no longer distracted. In fact, she appeared to be staring right at him, her bright red-painted lips- matching her coat and boots perfectly, pursed together in an amused smirk.
Sam's eyes widened, and he quickly pulled his book back up so as to pretend everything was fine. Maybe she would shake it off, assume he was just another random guy checking out a woman on the train and nothing more. She certainly couldn't know exactly what it was he'd been staring at, could she?
Slowly, he looked back over the top of his book and noted she was still looking his way, that smirk plastered all over her face. When she was certain she had his attention once more, she silently beckoned him with a red-painted, well-manicured fingernail.
Unsure of what to do, Sam gulped, slipped his book into his bag, and stood up, He hoped that all he'd need to do was apologize for leering, and then get on with his night. Slowly, he crossed the threshold of the empty train car, feeling like a death row inmate as he approached the back of the car, where he took the seat right across from hers.
"See something you like? She asked teasingly, and Sam nearly choked. That wasn't what he'd expected to hear at all, but before he could as much as muster a response, the woman looked him dead in the eye with a serious expression on her face. "It's rude to stare you know."
Sam nodded sheepishly. "I'm sorry. It's just-"
The woman interrupted. "It's just you like my boots, don't you?"
His face turned as red as her boots, and Sam looked away in shame and shock. It seemed his luck had finally run out, and all his attempts at subterfuge had been all for not, seeing as she'd managed to peg him so quickly. "Yes," he answered without looking back, embarrassed and unsure of what the woman would do with this knowledge, but knowing that lying wasn't in the cards.
