This is a sequel to
Protected by Lentz Trucking
and the other stories about Holly Sykes. This is taking place in the summer of 1976. The narrator is twenty-one and Holly is thirty-seven and divorced. They met when she was a passenger in the car / limo service he was driving for. Tiffany is Holly's friend; see
Chastised by Mrs. Harris.
*****
One afternoon Holly and I were hanging out at a coffee shop in Manhattan. Along the way we got to talking about role-play games. We had already had done some of those, but she proposed a new one.
Holly started describing it, "We're going to be playing a pick-up game. Have you heard of those?"
"No; I'm not up on them."
"What they are is this: two people pretend they don't know each other. Then one picks up, or tries to pick up, the other one, as if they had just met. Presumably, this has to be in some public place, like maybe a bar, but it could be in a store, a library, on the street, whatever."
"Okay, that seems simple enough. But it sounds like the pick-up can fail too; it that what you meant?"
"Yes, it could fail depending on how the plot is going. But that seems pretty boring. In this case, I'm going to pick up you, and I assume you won't refuse me."
"Well, of course not. So, where will this happen?"
"On the subway."
"You're kidding me." I knew one of these ladies would talk me into some stunt like this.
"Here me out. First of all, we're going to play versions of ourselves; we'll use our real names. Dress like you usually do at City College."
"Those clothes, you know, are kind of downscale."
"That's fine; it will seem more authentic that way. Carry a notebook too, like you usually do."
"Okay, so what is the plan?"
"The timing for this has to be right. The way I see it, I'll get on a southbound 1 train at, I think, 28th Street."
"And I have to be on it."
"I'll give you a fifteen-minute grace period for whatever time we agree on. You can't be really late, or I'll just leave." Of course, this was long before cellphones. She continued, "It will be a Sunday, so the trains won't be too busy. Also, the southbound 1 train gets emptier as it goes along, especially in the rear cars."
"That's because of the short platform at South Ferry. The rear five cars don't open there."
"Exactly. So you'll be in, say, the ninth car." That would be the next to last one. "Sit on the far side so I can see you when you ride in. Don't acknowledge that you know me when I get on."
"Where are we going?"
"Ah, you'll be going in cold. You won't know until we get there, and I'm not telling you now."
"So you have been thinking this through."
"Yes, I have. I will tell you one thing. At the end of all this, we are going to part and I, or my character, will tell you that we are never going to see each other again."
"Why is that?"
"Because my character wants it that way. At that point you can protest, or pretend to really, but it won't get you anywhere." She looked at me for a moment. "Sounds interesting?"
"I guess so."
"I think you'll find the whole thing quite intriguing."
******
On the designated day, my train rolled into 28th Street, and I saw a tall, dark-blonde woman on the platform. It was Holly, of course.She got on and looked around the car with a look of disdain. Then then sat down directly across from me.
Her outfit that day was truly amazing. She looked great, as usual, and it really was as if I had never seen her before. She was wearing an off-white jacket and skirt ensemble. Her jacket had a plunging neckline, and I could the the lacy top of might have been her bra. There was some kind of thick bracelet around her throat.
The most notable accessory was her large, brimmed hat, which was also off-white. To complete it all, she had nylon stockings and black medium-heeled shoes.
Meanwhile, I was sitting there with my awful college-boy cIothes, plus I really needed a haircut as usual. Holly was beautiful but haughty, I thought; I was actually intimidated by her. In fact, I couldn't imagine why she'd go for the likes of me.
It's a good thing she's going to approach me, because I wouldn't have the nerve to approach her.
Yet I was also touched that she had done this clothing thing to please me.
I had a soft cover book as a prop, and I pretended to read it. But yet I tried to keep track of what she was doing.
She seemed kind of fidgety. She'd cross and uncross her legs, and then she'd hold her own knee. Her glances went around the car, but never at me. There were only about five other people there, and none of them were close to Holly.
We were between 23rd and 18th Street when she stretched her legs out. Her skirt went below her knees, but she pulled it back and splayed her legs open enough so I could see up her thighs. She finally looked at me, and she had an expression of disapproval. Finally, she slammed her knees together.
In a minute, she was back at it. Her legs went even further apart, and she yanked her skirt up even more. Now I could see that she had white garter straps holding up her stockings, which was hardly a surprise. My view went right up to the crotch of her skimpy white panties. These hardly covered her pussy at all.
She went through the whole process again: looking annoyed, closing her legs, and then spreading them even further on the next go-round. By now I had stopped pretending to read, and I was frankly staring at her
After closing her legs this time, she crooked a finger at me. I pointed to myself,
me?
She nodded,
yes, you.
I went over and sat to her left. She said, "You've been looking up my skirt. You should keep your eyes to yourself."
There was some reserve of boldness in me. "With all due respect, miss, you've been flashing your panties at me."
"I must say that you are a very impertinent young man." She looked away from me, but not for long. "Okay, I admit it, but it was just some harmless teasing."
I couldn't think of a response. She crossed her legs and started to ask questions about me. "You must be in college. How old are you?"
"I'm at City College uptown."
