Lovely Dove 01

In the night sky far above the lighted ceiling of Penn Station's main concourse, thunderclouds gathered in the New York City sky. Even on a good night it was next to impossible to see a star, but the encroaching storm blackened the Manhattan night. Neon signs stood out in brilliant relief against the rumbling grey darkness.

A story and a half below street level, the brown concrete of the platforms vibrated with the force of trains pulling into the station. Miles Pierson checked his watch, briefcase dangling in his grip. Forty past the hour of one. The train was two minutes early.

The Long Island lines usually weren't this deserted, even on the other side of midnight, but this Friday had been exceptionally miserable. The sun hadn't made one appearance from behind the heavy cloud cover, and it had drizzled off and on across the city for most of the day.

One of the ticket collectors nodded to Miles as he boarded the train. "Late night again, Mr. Pierson?"

"You know how it is, Derrick," Miles said, giving the man a friendly smile. He worked late at the office often enough that he knew most of the staff on his line by name. Miles was a friendly, personable guy, the kind that people found easy to talk to. He whistled softly to himself as he wandered through the train, trying to find a quiet place to sit.

Normally, he would be eager to return to his home on the beach after such a long day at work. He hadn't quite intended to stay at the office as late as he had, but the new sales report had just come in for the previous quarter, and he'd found it engrossing enough that he had only noticed the time when the security guard came around for midnight lockup. On this particular Friday, though, there was nothing waiting for him at home other than a small pile of dry cleaning and yesterday's leftovers. Nothing to be eager about.

Most of the train cars were empty. The Port Jefferson line didn't stop in many of the areas where young, partying college students lived - and even if it did, tonight was not the kind of night for standing in line outside the club. Miles tugged the cuffs of his suit jacket, resettling it over his broad shoulders, and pushed into the second car from the end.

The lights were on the fritz in this car, leaving patches of shadow across the seats. Miles's blue-green eyes scanned the rows. There was a figure slumped against the window in one of the rows toward the back of the car.

Miles may have looked like an average, corporate employee, but as he identified the figure as a young woman, leaning against the window with her eyes closed and her breath puffing gently against the glass, something stirred deep in his chest. Aside from his corporate day job, Miles Pierson was a predator.

And the young woman sitting on the train registered as prey.

Miles didn't approach her immediately. He took a seat across the aisle, a couple rows up from where she slept. She must have boarded this car as soon as the train pulled in and promptly gone to sleep. Her train ticket was wedged in the small metal strip on the top of the aisle seat, so that she wouldn't have to wake up when the conductor came by to punch tickets.

An announcement echoed through the otherwise quiet train car, and they lurched into motion. The girl didn't even twitch. Miles's pulse sped up. Definitely prey.

Miles opened his briefcase and pulled out the day's newspaper, folding it in eighths and pretending to occupy himself with the financial headlines. The hunt was on, and she didn't even know it. The only sound was the rhythmic clacking of the car along the tracks, the thump of Miles's blood pounding in his ears, and the intermittent soft shift of cloth as one or the other of them moved.

As they passed out of the tunnel and into the night, rain pattered on the roof of the train. The door between cars banged open, and Derrick clicked his hole punch as he entered the car. He punched the girl's ticket, glanced at her, and then back at the ticket with his brows furrowed. He shook his head and moved on, waving off Miles's frequent rider card. "I know I ain't got to punch you, Mr. Pierson," he said.

"What stop does the young lady get off at?" Miles asked.

"Port Jefferson - end of the line, just like you."

Miles smiled at the train conductor. "I'll make sure she wakes up and gets off when she's supposed to," he said.

"Thank you, Mr. Pierson. I do wish there was more New Yorkers like you in the city." Derrick grinned, all white teeth in his dark face, and moved on to the next car.

As soon as the door banged shut after him, Miles opened his briefcase, put his paper away, and got up to move to the young woman's row. He sat slowly and gently, not wanting to disturb the seat in case he woke her.

He needn't have worried. Now that he was this close, he could smell alcohol on her sleeping breath. She was pale and blonde, her gently-curled hair spilling freely over her shoulders. Miles reached out, hardly daring to breathe, and tucked one of those curls behind an ear. He ran his finger over the swell of her cheek, the soft curve of her jaw. She didn't move.

Miles let his breath out slowly and turned his attention to the purse she had tucked in against her side. It was a snap closure, easy for him to tease open and retrieve her wallet from inside.

Her name was Hannah Marquette. She had a Michigan license, with what was presumably her parents' address listed, and a student ID for Stony Brook. Miles carefully replaced the wallet. She was more than likely a student at the business or radiology school out near Port Jefferson, and probably shared an apartment with one or more other students. Her cell phone wouldn't help him - girls her age password-protected their electronics.

He drew his hands away from her purse and examined her clothes. She wore a short, tight skirt and a short, tight top. Miles couldn't keep himself from trailing his fingers across the strip of soft skin exposed between the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her skirt. Once again, Hannah didn't twitch. Her breath continued to puff across the window of the train.

Her shirt was low-cut, exposing the white curves of the tops of her breasts. Miles's mouth watered. Possibilities spun out in his mind. He'd told Derrick he would make sure she got off at her stop - his stop. He could take her home, do it slowly and properly, make her scream-

But no, a student couldn't live in Port Jefferson alone, not when the student's parents were states away. She would have roommates; she would be missed. He needed to make her come to him.

Miles Pierson was a predator, and he was always prepared to encounter his prey. He looked up, ensuring that nobody else had entered the train compartment since Derrick left, and opened his briefcase again. This time, he pressed his fingers against the back seam, and the bottom of the briefcase opened up to reveal his toolbox - at least, the part he carried with him. This was not the first time Miles had encountered prey of opportunity, and it wouldn't be the last.

He removed what he was looking for and shut the briefcase, setting it gently on the floor. Now was when it started to get tricky. Miles had to hope that the sheer quantity of alcohol the girl had consumed would keep her from waking up. He curled one hand around the soft, pale skin of her thigh and drew her legs gently apart. Her skirt rode up to expose lace-trimmed cotton panties, blue. Miles pressed the backs of his knuckles against her through her underwear.

Hannah moved sleepily, and Miles froze. Her lips parted, just a little, and she wiggled her hips on the seat. Her eyes never fluttered. She was still asleep, just responding to the stimulus. A smile curled across Miles's lips, and he inched his fingers higher to the waistband of her underwear, hooking them inside the elastic and gently tugging the material down. It was slow going, teasing her panties down over the curve of her ass, but Miles eventually maneuvered them down low enough on her thighs to fully expose her to his gaze.

He spread the lips of her cunt apart, mouth watering as he glimpsed her pink, wet slit. He dipped one finger inside, slowly, and a short huff of breath escaped Hannah's mouth. She didn't know what was happening, consciously, but her body recognized pleasure and wanted it. Now more than ever Miles wanted her in his bed, spread out and tied down under his hands, forced to accept whatever he was willing to give to her pliant, yielding body.

Miles's free hand closed around one of the objects he had taken from his briefcase. This one was a vibrating dildo with a flared base meant to keep it firmly seated inside the wearer. Miles had modified it with a wifi receiver, so that he could trigger it remotely from wherever he was. It wasn't large - three inches long and barely two inches wide at the base - but Hannah would definitely notice it was there, once she was awake and coherent again.

Miles slowly teased another fingertip inside and spread them apart, exposing her wet hole. He licked his lips and eased the dildo inside, watching it sink into her body with little resistance. Her pussy swallowed it eagerly until the flared base rested against her outer lips. Such a wanton cunt. Miles wanted to press his tongue into it and lick until she came apart beneath him.

Patience, he thought, and picked up the second object. It was slim and metal, with black leather straps dangling from it. This would be harder than the dildo, but it was crucial to his plans. Carefully, he eased the chastity belt down the juncture of her thighs, lifting first one leg, then the other to wrap the straps firmly around her hips. He worked slowly, easing each strap across her skin, keeping his touch light and fleeting. Already her cunt felt wetter than it had when he first touched her, a product of the firm plastic inside of her. He reasoned that if the jolting of the train and his hands between her thighs hadn't woken her, it was unlikely that this would.

Hannah stirred as he brought the straps around front, and he froze, his fingertips resting against her skin. Her head lolled back against the seat and she shifted. Miles moved with her as she adjusted, and she didn't wake up. He smirked, snapping the finishing touch on his prize, a padlock engraved with the number of his latest prepaid burner phone. He pulled her panties back up her legs and the curve of her ass, then tugged her skirt back down.

That done, he resisted the urge to continue fondling his new toy and opened his briefcase one last time, removing a slip of paper. He wrote a brief note and tucked it into the left cup of her bra, right against the nipple where it would rub and chafe. Then he got up slowly and returned to his own seat, checking his watch. The entire operation had taken about fifteen minutes. They had another fifteen at least before the end of the line.

Time to see how good his new toy really was.

The vibrator had several settings, and was controlled from an app on his phone. Miles keyed in his password and brought up the interface. The ambient noise from the train was too much for him to hear the dildo switch on, but it had a rewarding effect on Hannah. Her lips parted further, until he could see her soft, pink tongue between her teeth, and her cheeks flushed. Miles turned up the intensity and watched her breath puff faster against the window, watched her writhe in her sleep.

Miles reached down to adjust himself in his slacks. She was lovely. Responsive. He dialed up the intensity to the highest setting and was rewarded by a soft, breathy noise from the girl, like the coo of a dove. His cock swelled in his pants, pressing against the seams, and he turned the vibrator off, taking deep breaths to contain himself. He would have her at his mercy soon enough.

For the rest of the ride he watched her with hooded eyes. The flush slowly receded from her pale cheeks, but her lips remained parted, her mouth hanging slightly open as she slept, blissfully unaware that she had been marked by a persistent, intelligent predator.

The train finally lurched into its final stop. He got up as Derrick entered the car and moved to Hannah's row, shaking her shoulder gently. She was more thoroughly passed out than even he could have considered, as she only made a sleepy, protesting noise and tried to snuggle closer to the train window.

"Girls her age shouldn't get so drunk," Derrick said, shaking his head. "Good thing she found herself among decent folk, eh Mr. Pierson?"

"Good thing," Miles said, leaning forward to collect Hannah into his arms. He stood slowly and nodded to Derrick, who handed him his briefcase. "I'll make sure she gets home, wherever home is."

"Good luck to you, Mr. Pierson. I better not see you on the midnight Monday train, too."

"No worries," Miles said, returning Derrick's easy smile. "I've had enough late nights this week." And with a new plaything to keep him occupied, he would have a reason to come home immediately after work.

Hannah's head rested against his chest, her breathing soft and even. Miles's pants felt tight at the thought that it would take her hours to realize she had been violated, that someone had exposed her intimately, someone had touched her without her permission.

He stepped off the train onto the platform, hunching over Hannah's sleeping body to try to keep the rain off. He strode to the nearest covered bench, trying to figure out what he was going to do with her. He could take her now, but there was the small matter of her probably-existent roommates. He hadn't seen anything with her address on it in her purse...

"Hannah?" Miles looked up at the new voice. It was another young woman, mousier than Hannah, with short dark hair, large glasses, and a round, perky face. The girl scowled at him. "Who are you? Some creep?"

"I'm sorry, I can see how it would look like that," Miles said smoothly. "I believe your friend would have slept all the way back to the train yard if I hadn't carried her off. She seems to have had a few too many."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "Of course she has," she said, disgusted. "Good thing I brought my car, as if I wouldn't in weather like this... dumb midwest country bitch, doesn't she know what can happen to her, passed out on the train?"

Miles said nothing, but stood to follow Hannah's roommate back to the car. The girl grumbled the whole way, making him think that this was perhaps not the first time Hannah Marquette had been handed off to her roommate by a total stranger on a late weekend night. She yanked her passenger door open and Miles gently settled Hannah into the car, buckling her in.

The girl got into the driver's seat and started the car. "Thanks for your help," she said. "Sorry I called you a creep."

"No need to apologize," Miles said, reflecting that Hannah's roommate had much better instincts than Hannah herself did. He shut the passenger door and waved as they drove away. It was only a matter of time, now.

He reached down and adjusted himself again, anticipation keeping him at least half-hard. His own car was not far away, and he smiled slowly to himself as he turned the key in the ignition. An excellent end to a very, very long day.