I stood on the subway train, body rocking and rolling with the momentum. I barely held on, if I am honest, given my state of excitement. I looked up at the signs as we pulled into a station. Three more stops for me. I just hoped my poor hammering heart could last that long. I was on my way home, knowing I had the briefest window to do what I planned to do. I felt a vibration in my hand, heard the electric chime. My heart raced a little more.
CAN'T WAIT FOR TONIGHT GONNA LOVE YOU UP SO GOOD
I read the text and my knees turned to jelly. I blushed, I felt the heat of it on my face. I also grew more than a little moist reading those words. I willed the train to break all speed records.
I had to get home, get showered and changed before my husband could come home. I had told him this morning that I was going out with the girls from work. He smiled and nodded, telling me he might just go sink a few with the boys too. So everything was set. I just had to get in, get cleaned up, and get out as fast as possible. My phone chimed again.
SO HARD FOR YOU IT HURTS
I blushed even hotter, cleared my throat and ran from the train the moment it pulled into the station. I practically ran the two blocks home too. Thank goodness, the house was empty, no sign of Tom. He didn't usually get home until after 6 so I knew I had time but not much. I checked my watch. 17:10. I moaned and ran up the stairs, throwing on the shower and tearing off my sensible work clothes. I washed myself so very thoroughly, wanting to be as clean and fresh as possible for my lover. He deserved it. He made life so exciting, so thrilling. I was determined to keep him keen. I washed between my legs, the sponge rubbing over my sensitive pussy lips too nicely. I shook myself.
"No!" I said out loud. "No time."
I switched off the shower, grabbed a couple of towels and skipped to the bedroom. I had already set aside the slinky little black dress for tonight, along with the sheer silk stockings and underwear I planned to wear with it. No bra though, not with this dress; it was way too low cut for that. It was short too, almost indecently short, giving a glimpse of stocking top as I walked. I knew exactly what effect that would have on him tonight. The thought made me shiver in anticipation. I sat at the dresser and fixed my hair and my make-up, glancing at the time. 17:42. Shit!
I hurriedly got dressed, contorting madly to pull up the zipper. That was something Tom did for me but not this time. It would be so wrong to ask a husband to zip me up, knowing the dress was likely to be torn from me in a motel room later. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked smoking hot. Not bad for an old woman, I thought. I grabbed a pair of what can only be described as Fuck Me Shoes, hoping they would perform as advertised, grabbed my coat and hot-footed it out of there, making sure there was little sign left of my presence. My phone chimed again. I stopped to read it.
ON WAY NOW. DON'T BE LATE. NEED YOU BAD.
My heart skipped yet another beat and I walked as fast as I could to the station; not as easy as it sounds on those heels. I stood, waiting for a train, aware of the looks I was getting from others. I couldn't blame them. I looked like a whore; an expensive whore, granted, but still a whore. The thought thrilled me and I wished I had used a pantie liner. These knickers were going to be ruined if I didn't calm down. I tried hard not to think of my lovers arms, his lips, the way he felt inside me. I tried and failed, further proving my point about those knickers. Another chime.
GOING 2 FUCK U SO HARD TONITE
I bit my lower lip, stifling a moan threatening to escape. My knickers were most definitely ruined now. I was slightly concerned too. I was leaking so much that I was sure everyone on that train would catch the heady scent of my extreme arousal. It's not like the tiny dress would do anything to cover it. I blushed again but I also smiled. I texted back.
DRIPPING
I felt so dirty typing that one simple word. The response made it worthwhile though.
GOD UR SEXY.
The train juddered to a halt at the next station, not mine. A group of young men got on board, each of them devouring me with their eyes. Naturally, they came and stood near me, not even trying to hide their lustful glances.
"Hey , darlin'" the cockiest one said, reaching out and touching my arm. I pulled away. "Working tonight?"
I didn't answer him. Instead I looked away, making it clear I wasn't interested. Again, the touch on my arm. I turned angrily back.
"We got cash, darlin'" cocky kid spoke again, a sickly grin on his face. "How much for all of us?"
"More than you can afford," I retorted. "Look, I have a booking tonight. Just leave it, ok?"
That got a round of ribald laughter and cheering. I played the whore card and it worked. They now KNEW I was a whore, on my way to get screwed for cash. They were partly right. I was not a whore, no cash was involved but I was most certainly on my way to get screwed. Why do I have these thoughts at moments like that? It only made me hornier!
"Maybe another time," said the cocky kid. "You are way too hot to pass up on."
I smiled at him. It's hard to be angry after a compliment like that.
"Maybe," I said in my huskiest voice.
They got off at the next stop, after cocky kid scribbled his number on a piece of torn paper, insisting I take it. I made a show of thanking him and then crumpled it up, tossing it into my purse the moment they were out of sight.
The train lurched on. I felt eyes on me throughout the whole journey and wondered if, perhaps, the dress was a little too much or, more to the point, a little too little. To be honest though, it's good to feel sexy now and then. If eyes were on me, it was because I looked good enough to look at. That was enough for me. Two more stops and my heart was beating its familiar tattoo in my chest. The rising excitement as I got closer to my lover was unbearable. I was visibly trembling, panting, like a bitch in heat. I WAS a bitch in heat, I told myself.
Tom and I had been married for seven years. I still loved my husband but things were getting kind of stale. I know, I know, I am a cliche. Seven Year Itch! But you know, cliches do not become cliches unless there is some truth in them. We had settled into a routine home life with little in the way of excitement. There was no thrill, no real passion in our marriage. We made love from time to time and it was ok. It was tender and loving but not passionate. I don't blame Tom for this. He doesn't blame me, I know. It's just what happens sometimes. So that is why, on that night, I was on a subway train, heading for a cheap motel, to meet my lover for a night of wild, passionate fucking.
There! I said it! I said fucking because that's exactly what it was. Every time was so intensely physical, leaving me breathless, shaking, content and so very satisfied. Oh, I occasionally felt something approaching guilt. The illicit nature of it bothered me sometimes, right up until I remembered how it felt. Then I couldn't wait for next time. I was sure we would get caught one day but I shrugged and said we would deal with that when it happened. My lover had the same attitude.
We finally reached my stop and I walked off the train, smiling and blushing slightly at the wolf whistle of whoever it was checking out my scantily clad ass. I didn't turn around to see. It didn't matter. I walked calmly, collectedly, out of the station and looked out over the road. Motel Paradiso looked back at me and I smiled again. It really was so very seedy. Pink neon flooded the lobby area, leaving the rows of rooms in darkness. I walked over the road, catching a couple of honking horns in the process.
