On The Train

It felt like the hottest day of the summer and there was no shade to  be found on the station platform. I could feel little rivulets of sweat running down my back and the valley between my breasts, so maybe the black wool dress had been a mistake that day. I looked at Paul, my boss, who was looking as hot and miserable as I felt and he smiled back. We had been out for the day in a particularly dismal series of meetings and neither of us were in the mood for waiting for this train.
"Maybe we should go for a drink instead", I suggested with a grin,
He looked at his watch, and shook his head "It'll be here in a minute. Maybe we'll get some relief on the train"


The situation on the train itself was no better - people were spilling out of the carriage - there were  no seats left. He pulled me into the corner of the standing area near to where a window had been pulled down a couple of inches and I ended up standing with my face against the wall, holding onto the overhead handle with one arm. We were crowded in from every other angle, with far too many people standing and no room to move.  The train pulled slowly out of the station and I realised, with a feeling like lead weight in my stomach, there was no air-conditioning. There was no air-conditioning and our stop was 30 minutes away. I leaned with my cheek against the wall and tried to focus on the thin flow of air that was coming in through the window.

I could feel Paul standing behind me as he also held on overhead, his body resting lightly against mine. The smell of his aftershave was impossible to avoid as his face could only have been inches away from mine and I breathed it in, I loved the way he smelt today. As the train rocked and swayed along the rails I became more conscious of his body moving against mine. I smiled to myself; things had to be bad if I was thinking that way about my pain in the ass boss. My objectively attractive but absolute pain in the ass of a boss.

The train suddenly jolted and about 30 bodies fell back against me,forcing me even tighter into the corner of the train. I could feel the contours of his body pressed hard against me now and his other hand went out to steady himself but as the train righted itself he did not move back; his hand remained against the wall and his body remained right against me. He had to be kidding, didn't he?
His weight shifted again as he took his hand down from the overhead bar, and I stiffened as he placed it on my hip. A move that would have felt totally natural and intimate had it been my boyfriend squeezed against my body like that, but felt alien and provocative under these circumstances. But, since I'm being honest,  it didn't feel entirely unwelcome so I remained against the wall with my eyes shut, thinking maybe it would stop there, but how silly of me to think that would be the end of it. After a few minutes he moved his hand again, and he began to gently trace the outline of my bottom with his finger - a stroke so soft it was almost imperceptible but felt like it was burning a trail on my skin. My mind was racing at the implications of this. I knew it was wrong, I knew I had no real interest in this man, I knew that letting your boss touch you on public transport was a Bad Thing. I also knew that there was a real chance I was going to get to like it.
When his hand reached down to the hem of my dress, I took a sharp intake of breath. Maybe this was going too far. He paused, for maybe 10 seconds before he pushed his hand up behind the back of my skirt and I felt his hand land on the inside of my bare thigh.
"Open your legs" he bent his head and whispered in my ear but I was paralysed with indecision now, unable to move at all. I opened my eye and looked up at him and he was staring down at me like he had caught me doing something unprofessional in the workplace,
"Open your legs" he repeated, his whisper turning into a hiss. He pinched my thigh quite hard and turned his hips against my bottom and pressed his erection into me. Regardless of my internal panic this flicked a switch in my head. This was my last chance to bat his hand away, or shout 'stop!' or turn around and admonish him for this. But I wasn't going to. I didn't want to.
"Open. Your. Legs. Now."

I closed my eyes again and spread my legs a few inches apart, holding my breath against what he was going to do to me next. He started to stroke my thigh where he had pinched me, hand moving up further with each caress, until his fingers were grazing the bottom edge of my knickers. I knew I was wet, but I didn't want him to know how aroused I was so I shifted my pelvis forward with the hope that he would be satisfied with stroking my legs. Some hope. He used his body to push my hips hard into the wall of the carriage and it was all I could do not to cry out in surprise. I could feel his hard cock straining against my bottom and he began to kiss and bite my neck. I became suddenly aware of my arm, still dangling from my handle and I dropped it to my side, trying to relax my body into him.
"Good Girl",  he whispered as he pushed a knee between my legs and wiggled it, pushing my legs further apart and I let my body drop further so he was supporting my weight. His hand persisted now between my thighs, and began to lightly stroke my pussy through the thin silk of my knickers; trying to detach myself, I opened my eyes to look back at the countryside speeding past the window and noted we were still 15 minutes from home. I couldn't distract myself from his fingers though, and could feel myself beginning to react to his touch. He paused again, for longer this time, and I felt a thin pinch of disappointment inside. Was he really going to stop? Maybe it's better he stops, I thought to myself,  this is.. this is..
And then he put both hands up inside my dress and slowly began to roll my knickers down, from the waistband, past my hips, until they were halfway down my thighs. I began to wriggle again. He couldn't remove my pants in this carriage, could he? He returned one of his arms to propping me up against the wall and the other went straight between my thighs and began to stroke my pussy again, as gently as before but occasionally catching my clit with his finger. I wanted to cry out but I knew I had to be perfectly silent with so many people in such close proximity. I grabbed behind me, blindly seeking something to hold onto and found his shirt, which I began to tug on impatiently.
"Good" he whispered again, and began to concentrate his attention on my clit. I moved my hand down between my dress and the hard bulge at the front of his trousers and held on; "Oh, good girl, you are such a good girl", he whispered and began to rub more quickly. I could feel the pressure building up in the pit of my abdomen but I didn't know how to let go because I was sure I would fall. He teased and pinched, rubbed and stroked, and I was so close, so close but there was nothing to hold onto that would keep me upright and so I began to think I would not come. I began to push his hand away, feeling certain that this could not end well, and then his mouth in my ear:
"Come for me, you little slut", his hand fighting hard against mine now, "come on you dirty bitch, come on my hand"

And there it was. A gut wrenching, heart-stopping orgasm where despite myself, I feel my legs did probably give out from underneath me, such was the intensity. I suppose he must have stopped me falling on the floor. He held his hand between my legs, two fingers against my pussy while I rode down the aftershocks, my sweaty forehead resting against the now slippery wall.
As I dozily came back round from my stupor I noticed we were pulling into our station and I straightened myself up. Had anyone noticed? Maybe they had, but no-one was staring at me like I was a Whore of Babylon. I didn't care.

Paul got me into a taxi home once we got out of the station and nothing happened again between us. There were changes though. Files to be checked were returned with a smiley face on a post-it note rather than being wordlessly slopped on my desk, and a particularly fine job was rewarded with a  'Good Girl' and a bar of chocolate. Maybe he just worked out how to motivate me, in the end. I moved on to another job within the company within a couple of months and  he gave me a glowing reference. But he would have given me a glowing reference anyway, right?