The steam rose from the street girders in lazy, smoky waves. They were mysteriously lit in different sections by the intermittent street lights surrounding the portal to the underground train. I didn't like the gassy, oily smell of the streets as it was; the steam only served to bring that stench up from the blackened streets to the eyes, nose and mouth of anyone within perception range.
I got a brief whiff of the steam and shook my head a bit, then snorted and wiped my nose with the back of my leather glove covered hand. I didn't have time to care about the ole factory assault of the streets as the train would soon come quickly rumbling through the tunnel with screeching brakes and thundering force. I had to move fast now, or else I would miss her tonight.
Down the many steps of the portal I quickly descended into the depths of the subway tunnel waiting area. My leather boots clattered on the filthy tiles of the platform and I could feel a bit of sweat running down my back under my white t-shirt, despite the slight chill in the night air. Probably due to my leather vest being so close to my olive skin, separated only by the thin fabric of my cotton top.
I moved to the end of the platform, at the precipice of the drop off to the tracks, much like all the others who had been expecting the train, and when I leaned slightly over to see the lights of the train growing larger and larger as they approached the platform, I felt my breasts swing forward, my nipples pushing against the t-shirt and the vest sides.
I smiled to myself, remembering how I had gone bra-less tonight, leaving my usual black sports bra for riding my Harley, at home on the dresser. It was a cheap, amateurish move, I knew that. But, I was getting a bit desperate, in my heart, having to spend night after night for almost a month, watching her ride home with her school friends, and then having to go home alone.
Ever since that first night, when I'd seen her, she'd captured something inside of me I hadn't expected. With her creamy, alabaster skin and dark, loosely wavy hair that ran like a wonderful shiny waterfall down her back and sometimes across her shoulders, I was instantly smitten. Not an easy thing for me to admit, being all leather and motorcycle boots and skull and crossbones necklace.
We were hardly the two types to come together as a couple...... despite us both being female. I had never been drawn by a girl before, and at first it gave me a start. But her innocence and lace, and the school girl uniform with the men's tie, the pleated skirt and white bobbi socks.... they never left my mind.
As the train intruded its way quickly around the tunnel corner, pushing the rush of air into our faces, I felt my choppy, shoulder length black hair flutter about my face like a shampoo model in some TV commercial. The wind rushed up my leather skirt and cooled me slightly across my upper thighs. While the train made its way toward us, I felt a knot in my stomach as I thought about all the nights I had pretended to just be a passenger and not a creepy stalker on the nightly downtown train.
I had seen all the school boys, and some college boys, make their way over to her in the crowded subway cabin, flirt and chat, and sometimes touch her, and my heart would sink. How easily this delicate beauty could simply wave her hand, or give a quick reply of "Okay, bye." and stop them in their tracks. I secretly told her in my thoughts, That-a-girl! Turn them away, they have nothing that will ever capture your heart. They're just thorns without the rose. Be careful of them in the dark.
Tonight, win lose or draw, would be different. Surely, I thought, she had seen me in the crowd enough times to think of me as just some biker chick who, like herself, rode the downtown train. I hadn't stared at her, or made any strange false moves in her direction. I knew just how to watch her when she wasn't looking my way, and how to casually turn away at the right time without meeting her eyes, as she turned her own head. I wasn't her stalker. I was just another girl on the train.
I wouldn't mention how many times I had tailed her to her home in the neighboring burbs. To the blue and white brick and wood home she shared with a daddy, who obviously made a good bit of change, and a mommy who seemed like a young church lady type. White picket fences around the yard and a chocolate lab who ran up to meet her as she arrived at home from her parochial high school, finished out the "Rockwell" picture.
She would be graduating from that school soon, as summer arrived, and I might lose her forever - to sororities and football quarterbacks in another state far away, in the fall. Considering how her ample sized melon breasts stretched the fabric of her crisply starched shirt and pulled the buttons tight, such a future was indeed a possibility.
In order for those breasts to stretch a shirt for me and not the football team, I had to move fast, confidently, even though girl to girl was perhaps something brand new for each one of us. I never saw myself as a lesbian, or her as one either, all I knew was that my heart ached to love her and my sex burned to be intimate with her. And only her.
As the train pulled bruskly in front of all the people waiting at the terminal, I went into my physical "I don't care" mode. I tucked the tops of my fingers into the pockets of my "almost too short" leather skirt, slumped my shoulders and lowered my eyelids to half mast over my large, brown eyes.
The doors swung open and passengers began to disembark in hurried, confused fashion. I let them go by me with an unimpressed look on my face and then, when they were almost done, I pushed past the last few with an ingenuine impatience.
I grabbed the first post I saw, not wanting to commit to a seat just yet, and swung into a standing position against the doors on the other side of the train. Other people followed me into the cab, and I pretended to be studying them as they entered. Each entering passenger would pull my eyes in one of the two directions of the train and when they did I would capture a glimpse of who was on the train and already seated.
I smiled inwardly as I spotted my obsession toward the front of the cab, already seated with her school girl friends, chatting away, giggling at something funny that they had shared. She flashed that cherry ice cream smile of hers.
She was here! My breath caught in my throat. My pulse quickened in my neck. Watching her with my peripheral vision, I avoided any direct eye contact, much to my frustration, for I had longed to look into those eyes and see them lock onto my own. I felt my nipples harden at the thought.
Even though there were about twenty feet of other passengers on the train between us, I saw only her in my side vision. She took her hand and pushed the entirety of her long, wavy hair from her back and around her shoulder as she chatted girl talk, and it exposed her smooth, creamy neck. I openly gasped under my breath, and shook my head to myself as I did. How had this happened to a motorcycle-pool hall chick like me? How could I be so drawn to little miss conservative America? I didn't know. It was just the way it was.
After a few minutes of crowded riding, I pretended to have had enough of the public smell of another passenger and threw my hands up in disgust. "God Damn!" I spat. And I gave a complete stranger a nasty look.
I moved to the front of the train like I was running away from a skunk, brandishing an annoyed look on my face and slammed my back against the door at the front of the cab, rubbing my nose with one hand and looking off into the crowd of people whom I had left by the entrance door.
She was now seated to my right with her friends, and I avoided looking her way, so as not to give away any pretense. I had to hope she had become aware of me as I had suddenly moved about, and looking her way, meeting her eyes might have given me away in some small fashion.
Being a woman, I know women, and I know how we have a sixth sense when it comes to subtle clues that someone likes us. We know long before guys usually think we know. Almost immediately. So I had to be careful to keep our meeting natural and in context.
I felt the loose dollar in my pocket with the tips of my fingers and continued to act annoyed, looking off in the distance toward the crowd. Not coincidentally, a small female voice addressed me from the seat of girls next to me. It wasn't her, for she was next to the window, not the isle, but it was one of her friends - which was more than ideal.
"What happened?" She asked. "Did someone fart?" She then continued with a school girl laugh.
Keeping my semi-detached position, I calmly looked over and down at the strawberry blonde in the seat next to me where I was standing, making sure I didn't look up at my muse and meet her eyes..... even though I was fully aware that at this point she was getting a full eye view of me.
I took a deep breath, pushing my bra-less breasts past the sides of my vest, and out into view and responded. "Some people just don't know what soap is!"
They giggled at this, and I gave the blonde a smile, then I responded to the rest of the giggling girls by scanning the group. First, the girl next to her, then the girl across from her and then casually I landed on my beauty's lovely face. For a brief, time stopping moment, she and I actually locked eyes. Her golden brown, almost tea colored eyes, gave me a start and my lips parted unintentionally. My breasts subtly rose in the moment.
Without looking away, I returned to my uninvolved attitude and remarked to them all, "You're a happy bunch. I don't get too much happy. It's nice."
The blonde asked me, "You're like some kind of biker girl, right?"
