I wait for you just outside London. The train is late, but I know it will be here soon. The third carriage from the front, that's what we've arranged, and just as I start to feel a tingling at the thought of you, I hear the train approaching. As the windows flow past me, I look inside; and there you are, reading your newspaper, every inch the businesswoman.
I board the train and, as we'd hoped, the carriage is busy but not full. I glance around, pretending to look for an empty pair of seats, but finding none I approach you.
"Excuse me," I ask, gesturing at the bag you've placed on the seat next to you. "Is this seat taken?"
"No," you reply, just glancing at me as you take the bag off the seat, and I sit down next to you. There hasn't been the slightest indication of recognition between us. I'd wondered if we'd manage to do this without smiling and breaking the spell, but we're both in control, so far at least.
You return to your newspaper, and I take a book from my case. A man and a woman sit opposite us, across the table. Neither of them is reading; they're just casually looking around and watching out the window as the train pulls out of the station.
As you read, you lift your newspaper slightly, and I glance at you. Keeping my book held in my right hand, and not lifting my eyes from the page, I drop my left hand down and move it across behind the shield of your paper, resting it on your thigh. I feel the warmth and softness of you as I rub my thumb around into your flesh. You do not react, except to move your attention to a different story in the paper. Are you reading it at all now, I wonder. I glance up at the passengers opposite. They have no idea what we're doing. I look furtively around the carriage to see if it is safe to carry on, then start walking with my fingers towards the buttons that run up the length of your skirt. I undo one, then two; just enough room to let me slip my hand inside, feeling the smoothness of your skin as I gently brush my fingers over the inside of your thigh. I have to shift and wriggle slightly in my seat to help my stiffening cock work into a comfortable position in my shorts. Then, as my eyes focus on nothing as they pretend to read, I ease my hand slowly up the inside of your thigh. It is only when my fingers reach the lovely junction of flesh at the very top of your thigh does the realisation hit me; you're not wearing any panties. My heart, racing already, jumps in my chest and I have to look at your face, just for a moment. A barely detectable smile crosses your lips for a moment as you move to another story in your paper.
My fingers worm around, stroking the smoothness of you, then brushing over your light fur. The tip of my finger feels the swell of your lips and I run my finger up and down along the length of you, wriggling softly, tempting you to open for me. I feel your thighs part slightly, and then my cock twitches as your wetness welcomes my finger as it slips just inside your slippery pussy, easing along your slit, stroking you, teasing you. I give a little cough and clear my throat softly, the nearest I can come to letting you know how delighted and aroused I am.
I stroke your wet flesh, easing my finger up toward your clit, and I groan aloud when my finger brushes against it. I turn my groan quickly into a cough as I rub softly, so softly, around your slippery smooth clit, so hard and fat and proud under my touch. I can feel your hips rolling softly into the seat, and I hear the softest whimper from you. I glance across at you and there is a look of distracted concentration on your face as you try not to give yourself over to the feelings within you. I let my finger brush softly over the head of your clit, then move it down, slipping along the length of your pussy lips. I shift in my seat slightly to let my arm reach forward a little, then ease my finger deep into your smooth wet pussy. I worm and stroke inside you for a few seconds, then, knowing that we're approaching the end of the line, I slip my finger out of you and out from under your skirt. Bringing my hand to my face, I scratch my head distractedly, then, with my hand casually resting against my face and checking that nobody's looking, place my wet finger in my mouth. I hear a little sigh and a noise in your throat as you notice what I'm doing. The driver announces that we're approaching the station, and you prop the paper up against the edge of the table so you can button your skirt.
As the train pulls in to the platform, the passengers gather their belongings and rise and shuffle along the carriage. Getting up to leave, we glance at each other and smile for a moment. We join the group of people gathering near the door to get off the train, and I move close behind you. The crown moves forward a little, then stops. I let my inertia carry me against you, holding myself there for a moment, pressing my hard cock against your backside. As I hold myself against you, I feel a trickle of pre-cum oozing out of me, then we part and we step down off the train. With a final glance and a secret smile, we part in the crowd.
A few hours later, I'm in a pub, sitting nursing a pint, my head dreamy and my cock half-hard at the thought of seeing you again. You're in your meeting now, and I know I can't disturb you, but I want you to know that I'm here, thinking of you. I take out my phone, and tap in a message.
"looking forward to tonight. aching to taste you, to fuck you."
I send the message, knowing that your phone will beep in your meeting. I know you won't be able to read the message straight away, but I hope you'll guess it's from me and that your mind can wander for just a moment to think of me.
That evening, I walk into the hotel and see you sitting at the bar. You're dressed more glamorously now, in a silky blouse and skirt, and you're wearing a little more make-up than you would normally feel comfortable with. You look... and the thought thrills me even as I'm embarrassed to think it... slightly slutty. You take a last sip from your long drink, and take a drag on a cigarette. I've never seen you smoke before, and it's very easy to imagine we're meeting for the first time.
The bar is fairly full, mostly guys in town on business, and you are attracting admiring looks. I sit on a stool next to you, and I feel the men in the room watch me as I sit down, feel their desperation for you to reject me.
"Would you like another of those?" I ask, gesturing at your empty glass. You look at me, playing the suspicious single woman to perfection.
"Yes. A gin and tonic. Double. Thanks."
