My Name Is Heather

This story is dedicated to Heather, the real life Heather. Although some details are true, the outcome isn't. However, that is how we would have liked it to end.

I left home after I graduated from college. I didn't like the way my parents treated my youngest sister which was the same way they had treated me; because I had no means to change that situation, I came to this city hoping to earn enough to take my sibling out of that environment. I had another goal in mind; maybe I'd meet the man of my dreams. Though I had had a few boyfriends while I was in school, none was the guy I would want to marry.

My name is Heather. I am twenty-two years old; I'm 5'8" and weigh135 pounds; I have brown hair and green eyes; I have a nice figure, but my best features are my breasts. Although I'm modest, I try to wear blouses and sweaters that accentuate them. I am heterosexual although I do like to look at good-looking, sexy women. Maybe I'm bi-curious.

Something happened on the way to finding Mr. Right. I ride the subway to work every day, but I never get a seat. The stop that I get on is far enough from the end of the line that the seats are always taken; I always have to stand hanging on to an overhead strap and swaying from side to side as the old train car shifts and rumbles down the tracks.

There aren't many people that ride the train, but there are enough that the seats are always taken. There is plenty of room to stand, and the car isn't crowded except on sale days when it seems that the whole city tries to get on this one train; I feel as if I'm being crushed, but I have seen pictures of the Japanese trains and how the people are forced into the cars. I am grateful that isn't the case here, and I don't sweat the crowded car once a week.

There is an older woman who rides the train every day, and who is usually seated across from where I stand. She must get on early in order to get a seat, and I wish I lived at the end of the line. The woman has a pretty face and a pleasant expression; she is slim, tall and has a nice figure. I try to figure out where she goes and what she does for a living. She appears to be in her late thirties or early forties - almost twice my age. I hope I don't have to continue riding this subway when I'm as old as she is.

One morning, she caught me looking at her, but she didn't smile. She is either stuck up or very shy as she quickly averted her eyes. Her clothes look as though they are rather expensive, so I guess she isn't a clerk or a sales person.

Occasionally, the woman would get up and give someone else her seat which is very nice of her. It makes me feel that she is a nice person. One morning the car was very crowded, and I had to stand right in front of her. She never looked up at me, but looked straight ahead. It occurred to me that she was staring at my breasts. Well, they were directly in front of her, so what else could she do?

As more people got on and the subway car became very crowded, I was forced to move even closer to her. I had one leg between hers and one outside her left leg. I was a bit embarrassed as we were both wearing dresses and out legs were bare. I could feel her skin, and therefore she must feel mine; just one of the situations one encounters riding the subway, so I wasn't upset. Actually, it felt quite nice to have skin-to-skin contact with another person. When my stop was next, I pulled my leg from between hers and prepared to fight my way to the doors. I may have imagined it, but it seemed that she was actually holding my leg with hers, and I had to pull a bit to free my leg. Again, I chalked it up to the press of the crowd.

The following day, Friday, was not a sale day, and the car wasn't crowded. I stood across from the woman whom I began calling 'brown eyes'; her eyes are brown with specks of hazel, I think. I haven't looked at them up close. Anyway, I was looking at her when suddenly she looked up and looked straight at my face – my eyes. I didn't look away, and we maintained eye contact for a long time. She didn't smile, and I didn't smile; we just kept eye contact. Finally, just before my stop, I blinked. I looked around, but when I looked back, she was still staring at my face. I pretended I didn't notice and got off at my stop.

I work for a downtown publisher as a copy editor. I read manuscripts all day long; most are dull and bore me, but some are interesting, and I hate to stop reading them, so I take them home in an old leather briefcase with the company logo on it and the name of the publisher in small gold letters across the top edge. I love to read and by reading manuscripts, I don't have to spend money on books.

On Monday, I boarded the train, and when I looked over at her, "brown eyes" was watching me; instead of standing across from her, I stood in front of her but didn't look at her. A few minutes later, I felt a tap on the briefcase and when I looked down, "brown eyes" was holding her hand out in the direction of the briefcase and patting her lap. Evidently, she was suggesting that she hold the briefcase for me. I laid it on her lap and she nodded.

When we were near my stop, I picked up the briefcase from her lap and nodded my thanks to her. For the next two weeks, she carried my briefcase on her lap until I got off the train. It was neat that I didn't have to hold the case AND try to hang onto the strap and try to balance as the car swayed from side to side.

On the Thursdays of those two weeks, the press of the crowd caused me to put my leg between hers again, and I felt her legs rub back and forth on mine as the car swayed especially in the turns. I couldn't tell if it was deliberate or accidental as the rubbing was in sync with the swaying car. She is such an nice lady that it couldn't be deliberate, could it?

The following Thursday, the sale day, the car was crowded, and I wasn't able to get to "brown eyes", and I had to hold the case myself. I noticed that she had given her seat to someone else; then she was right in front of me. I hadn't seen her pushing through the other people but here she was. More people got on when the train stopped at stations along the way. The press became greater, and "brown eyes" was up against me. Being a bit taller than I, she was looking over my shoulder. I could feel her breasts against my breasts. I could feel my nipples harden and then, I could actually feel her nipples become erect. I couldn't move because of the crowd, but I wouldn't have wanted to anyway. The feel of breasts against breasts, especially when the car swayed, was extremely stimulating, and I could feel my pussy getting wet. I am straight, well a bit bi-curious, but I could not help but get turned on.

When more people got on, brown eyes and I were flattened against each other, and I could feel her belly pressing against my belly. She had been holding her arms straight down, but it must have been awkward to hold them that way, and she slid them around my waist and held on to me. My breaths were coming faster than usual, and I was becoming very aroused. When her hands reached down and held my buttocks, I thought I was going to have to gasp for air; I couldn't seem to breathe properly. Each time the car would sway, brown eyes squeezed my bottom. Her cheek was against my face, and it felt like we were having sexual intercourse. If my stop hadn't come up just about that time, I think I would have had an orgasm. I kissed her cheek and left the train. We had not spoken a single word to one another during this time or since we'd ridden the train together.

On Friday, I stood in front of her again and was about to put the briefcase on her lap, but she shook her head no, pointed to me and patted her lap. Suddenly, I was shaking and my face was tingling. I looked around to see if anyone was watching us, but everyone was busy with his or her newspapers and magazines or were trying to catch a nap.

I don't recall how I turned around or how it happened, but the next thing I knew, I was sitting on brown eyes' lap with my buttocks against her belly and thighs; the briefcase was on the seat beside us, and brown eyes' arms were around me with her hands in my lap. Again, I looked around the car, but no one was paying the slightest attention to us; in fact, I noticed a few others sitting on someone's lap; I had never been aware of that before.

As the car swayed, I felt brown eyes' hands move and slide a few inches across the top of my thighs. She must have felt me trembling because she stopped her hand movement and let me catch my breath. We sat that way until I had to get off the train. I was still shaking when I reached my office, and when I tried to read, I read the same paragraph over and over: I had no idea of what it said.

The following week, I sat on brown eyes' lap each day but on Thursday, we did our sex dance in the car with dozens of people around us. Last week my panties were soaked and there had been a spot on my dress where it had been pressed against my pussy. Since I had anticipated having clandestine sex with brown eyes today, I was a bit more prepared; I wore a tampon. I didn't want to show up for work with the front of my dress all wet.

Fortunately, the tampon worked as brown eyes had reached down and rubbed my crotch for the entire time we were pressed up against each other. I stayed on the edge of orgasm for probably twenty minutes, but never went over the top. I was even closer to orgasm than the previous Thursday, but again I had to leave the train at my stop; At work, I had to go to the ladies' room, sit in a stall, and 'relieve my tension' before I could start my day's assignment.

It was especially thrilling standing in the middle of a subway car with people all around us who had no idea we were humping each other. We did this for several Thursdays in a row; I never orgasmed and had to masturbate when I got to work, but I had no intention of demurring. This was the highlight of my week, and I couldn't wait for Thursdays.

One Thursday, another passenger added some comic relief to our exciting sex dance. I had been grinding my pelvis into brown eye's crotch when I realized my bottom was rotating against the buttocks of the woman directly behind me. She must have thought I was deliberately rubbing her rear, and she began rubbing back against me. I laughed to myself thinking I was getting two for one. I tried to look over my shoulder to see what she looked like but all I could see was her long blonde hair.

Evidently, she was as tall as I, or she was wearing heels because we were dancing 'cheek to cheek'. I tried to turn when she stopped pressing against me, but she was gone from the train before I could see her. I whispered to brown eyes what had happened, but she was so engrossed in our encounter that she didn't even smile. I wondered if the blonde would be back the following Thursday but no, our 'threesome' never happened again.

On Friday, I sat in brown eyes' lap again and flexed my buttocks against her thighs while she caressed the inside of my thighs through my dress. Her hands were hidden from view by a newspaper she had brought with her. Suddenly, the train's wheels began to screech, and everyone in the car groaned. They knew the train would stop and all power would be gone. We would have to sit in the dark for up to an hour until power was restored, and the ancient, obsolete, poorly maintained train could move again. This situation occurred four or five times a year and was not novel to the passengers who had been using this line in the past.

Just before the lights dimmed and went out, brown eyes pushed me up off her lap, stood up, and pushed me down on the bench seat where she had been sitting. It happened so fast that I didn't have time to think about it. When the lights went out, it was like closing your eyes in a coalmine. Nothing; absolutely black. Pitch black or whatever the term is. A few seconds later, brown eyes slid her hands under my skirt and up along the outside of my legs. She must have been bending over or on her knees because her hands and arms were parallel to my thighs.

I grabbed her arms through my dress, but she didn't stop. She tried to pull my panties down and before I realized what she was attempting, I was helping her by lifting my ass. Then she stopped. She took one hand from under my dress and moved my briefcase to the floor. She must have knelt on the briefcase, and all I could think was, "I have my lunch in there; she's going to smash my sandwich." What a thing to think at a time like that.

She had been unsuccessful at removing my panties, so she settled for sliding the crotch to one side, and I felt her face on my thighs. She pulled my legs apart until she could reach my pussy with her mouth. I felt her tongue move up and down my slit until I was soaking wet and my vagina opened. Brown eyes sucked me for a few seconds and then began putting her tongue inside me, dragging it up between my labia, and licking over my clitoris. I was so turned on by her actions and the stimulus of doing this with people all around us that I came within a minute or two. I had to practically bite my tongue to keep quiet. She didn't stop but continually licked and sucked until she had brought me to orgasm eight or ten times; I lost count after four. Occasionally she made a sucking or slurping noise, and I pretended to cough to cover it up.

Then she stuck her finger in me and dragged it across the top of my vagina – my G spot. I thought. "Oh, cripes." I'm going to ejaculate if she keeps that up," and with that thought, I did. She had withdrawn her finger and covered my pussy with her mouth, so I didn't spray anywhere except in her mouth. When I calmed down and stroked her hair, she put her mouth back on my pussy and began pumping my belly with her right hand while playing with my butt with her left. What did she want? I had to pee badly by this time, and she wasn't making it easy for me to hold it in. Then I realized she was trying to get me to pee. I tried to release my bladder muscles but it wasn't easy; however, her insistent pumping of my belly did the trick, and I opened my sphincter. She held on tight as my bladder drained into her mouth. I couldn't have stopped if I had tried. Brown eyes licked my pubic area of any moisture that her mouth had missed and pulled her head from my pubes.

I was completely spent. She had drained me completely. When she pulled her hands from under my dress, she reached up and tried to put her finger in my mouth. I resisted and turned my head to the side, but she was persistent and finally I opened my mouth and sucked her finger. Yuck, the taste was terrible; it tasted like bitter metal. Then I realized there was a sweet after taste – blood; I was having my period four days early. Brown eyes was trying to tell me that I was menstruating, and I wasn't wearing a tampon. She started rummaging through her purse until she found one and opened it. She gave it to me and I slid it up into my vagina. I still had the tube but didn't know what to do with it. She found a Kleenex in her purse, wrapped the bloody tube in it, and put it back in her purse.

I was stunned. Not only had she licked me to a bunch of orgasms, stuck her tongue half way to my tonsils, swallowed my ejaculate, and drank my pee, but she did all that with my menstrual blood pouring out of me. I was about to say something to her when the train began making that crazy noise that indicated that the power was coming back, and the lights would go on. I felt brown eyes leave me and stand up. When the lights did return, I looked up at her and noticed her lipstick was smeared and there were traces of blood on her face. I took a mirror and some Kleenex from my purse and handed them to her. She looked in the mirror, wiped her face, and handed the mirror back. She stood until my stop came up, and I rose and was about to leave. Brown eyes took my hand and squeezed; she looked in my eyes but still didn't smile or speak. On the platform, I realized I was holding something in my hand. It was a business card; brown eyes' business card: A. Dawn; Bio-Med, Inc., and an address, phone number and business e-mail address.

When I got to work, I went straight to the ladies' room and checked myself. My panty crotch was bloody, but the tampon was okay. I changed it anyway. I took off my panties, wrapped them in tissue paper and stuck them in my purse. I felt strange at first not having them on, but I thought, "What difference does it make when the tampon will keep any secretions from coming out of me; and I'm wearing a dress so there are no pants' seams to irritate me." I still felt risqué without panties on, but after what happened in the subway, it was a moot point.

I got to my desk and began to edit the manuscript where I had left off the night before, but I couldn't keep my mind on it. I sighed and picked up the phone; I called A. Dawn's business number and got her secretary. I told her I was a friend of Miss Dawn's and would like to speak with her. I had a lump in my throat the size of a grapefruit and I couldn't breathe. When her secretary came back on the line, she asked me if I were the editor who was going to read Miss Dawn's manuscript. I was a bit taken aback, but then I realized that the old briefcase I had carried showed the publisher's name and, having read that, and putting two and two together, she must have known I was carrying a manuscript in it.

After a long pause, and her secretary saying hello a few times, I was able to speak and say I was the editor. She told me that Miss Dawn was very busy and couldn't come to the phone. She asked that if it wouldn't be too much trouble, could I see Miss Dawn at her home after work tonight? She was much too busy to see me during work hours. I said that I might be able to fit her in this evening and her secretary gave me the address and phone number. She told me that I should try to make it about nine o'clock which would give Miss Dawn time to get home and be ready for me. She asked me my name and I told her 'Heather', but didn't give my last name. She said, "Heather, Miss Dawn will have Chinese food delivered, so don't bother eating before you get there. By the way, make sure you bring your briefcase as Miss Dawn will expect you to take her manuscript with you to finish reading over the weekend."

I tried everything I could think of to stay busy and not anticipate my evening 'date'. If the subway affair was any indication of what would happen, I was in for one heck of a ride but probably not tonight. My period was at its heaviest flow, and I would be extremely uncomfortable about having sex at that time. I would feel better if I were wearing a tampon but would that put a damper on the festivities? Well, I'd have to wait and see. Miss Dawn hadn't seemed put off by my period, but she didn't know about it until she went down on me and probably felt it was too late to back out. I suppose she could have stopped after my first orgasm, but I had no idea what her mindset was.

I arrived at Miss Dawn's apartment building about an hour early. I couldn't stand waiting at home; however, I was so nervous that sitting in the car waiting for nine o'clock was an ordeal. Finally, I went to her door at five minutes after nine - just to let her know I wasn't anxious.

When Miss A. Dawn answered the door, her hair was down around her shoulders instead of the twist that she had worn to work. She was wearing a short, brightly embroidered Japanese kimono. As I walked in, she moved back to let me pass, and the lower part of the kimono gaped open showing she had nothing on under it. I felt really nervous.

Her apartment is furnished in Scandinavian Modern and is very handsome. I wish I could furnish my place to make it look this fashionable. Well, someday when I make enough salary, I will try this minimalist look.