Madeline had long hated taking the tube into the city. The smells. The chaos. The crowded carriages. Everyone's utter disregard of everyone else. It was no way to start a working day. The only way to get through it was to tune it all out; let all sense and emotion sink away and let her mind drift to a happier place. More often then not she thought of her university days, when her high-pay, high-power job in the city was just a dream. Twenty years on, she realised what a fool she'd been back then.
Not that there was anything wrong with her job. She was a senior manager at one of the biggest financial companies in the city. Nice house in the suburbs. Health care. Holidays. Flash car (though the only thing worse than the tube was negotiating the rush hour traffic). She wouldn't give any of it up. She just sometimes longed for a change to the monotony.
Perhaps a young stallion of a husband would help. Her last had been so full of life during those courting years; rushing around as young lovers do, experiencing as much life as they could grab hold of. An exchange of vows and a daughter later and his vigour was gone like so much water down a drain. Where once they enjoyed long-haul trips to foreign lands, they were reduced to weekend excursions to the coast. Where once they'd indulged in spontaneous trysts in wide open fields or secluded alleys, or entire weekends locked in a hotel room or rented cottage, she had to settle for the occasional, missionary humping when his back was up to it.
The divorce couldn't come quick enough.
So now, here she was, forty-seven years old, wedged into a tube carriage, dreaming of all that was and might have been, being felt up by some perverted arsehole amidst a crowd of miserable commuters.
The realisation that there was a hand clutching her backside came on suddenly. Before she had time to react, she felt the hand encircling her hip and moving to the crotch of her trouser-suit. She gasped as the strong, broad fingers pressed firmly; unashamedly finding her slit through the layers of material. She was shocked into silence - panicked and confused - worried less about what was happening than someone else noticing.
She felt the button of her waistband pop open and gripped the handrail tightly in anticipation. She couldn't move anywhere; at least not until the next stop. She was far too embarrassed to draw attention to herself and she couldn't let go of the handrail or her briefcase to slap the intruding hand away.
The fingers slipped under her blouse and she had to choke back a squeak as the rough fingertips touched her bare stomach. Then they moved down, sliding into her knickers.
She couldn't believe she wasn't doing anything to stop this. Her heart raced and her breathing shallowed. Her knees trembled and she was starting to feel light-headed.
She jumped as a finger gently graced her rapidly stiffening clit and stroked down her moistening pussy lips. She gripped the rail tight and swallowed hard as she tried to steady her breathing. She closed her eyes and bit her lip as a finger penetrated her and the man's large thumb started to work her clit. Beads of sweat formed on her brow. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure the sound of her pulse alone would alert the whole carriage.
There was a ringing in her ears. Coloured spots appeared in her blurred vision. Her breaths came as rapidly as her pulse. His finger worked deeper and his thumb rubbed harder and she was sure she was about to scream with the orgasm building inside her.
Then, just as suddenly as the 'attack' had begun, the hand was gone. The train stopped. The carriage doors opened and a swell of bodies shuffled out. She turned to try to catch a glimpse of the man at her back, but he was gone amidst the throng. Her shaking hand let go of the rail and she stealthily reached down to button up her trousers. That was when she found the card he'd left behind. No name. No number. Just an address and a time: 8:30pm.
***
Madeline spent the morning in a daze. Regular office business went on around her, but her mind was still in that carriage on the tube. It wasn't until her lunch hour that she had a real chance to reflect on what happened.
She locked the door to her office, closed the blinds and sat behind her desk, staring blankly at her lunch. She had no appetite. She was still in a state of shock and confusion. She was angry that some stranger had taken advantage of her like that; humiliated that it had happened in such a public place; frustrated that she'd been brought to the brink and denied release, and ashamed at her frustration.
It occurred to her to call the police. She had no idea what the man looked like, but she had a calling card. But then, what if there were several people in the building? How would she know who he was?
Those would have been the logical questions to ask, but all Madeline could think was, 'What does he plan to do to me?'
Since her divorce, Madeline had had a few of lovers. She found she had little trouble attracting men. It wasn't that she looked particularly young for her age; she had simply aged very well. In fact, she was more comfortable with her appearance now than when she was young. The odd crease here and there on her otherwise smooth skin had given her face character, which - despite her sultry eyes and high cheekbones - she'd always considered plain in her youth.
Her body had held up well, too. Her breasts were small, but pert, her arse was round and firm and her legs were relatively long and shapely for her petite frame. All combined with her long dark hair made her the picture of mature elegance.
Her sexual exploits following the divorce hadn't been particularly memorable. At first, with a young daughter at home, Madeline had had to be quiet and stealthy. Later, as Beth had grown up and started sleeping over with friends or going off to babysit younger kids in the neighbourhood, Madeline could let loose a little, but, with the exception of a masked liaison in the copy room at a Christmas fancy-dress party last year, things had been quiet for the past five years.
Madeline glanced at the clock on her desk and was surprised to find she'd been lost in thought for more than half an hour. Even more surprising was the fact that her hand was in her pants, absently stroking her wet pussy.
She removed her hand with a gasp and quickly wiped her fingers with a Kleenex. Her mind was in too much turmoil to make any kind of sense of the day.
Very slowly she reasoned that she wasn't in any way disgusted by what had happened. It was a shock and certainly very wrong, but at the same time, it was something of a thrill in what would have otherwise been just another mundane day.
She took a deep breath, let out a long, cleansing sigh and tossed the card into the trash. By five o'clock, she was sure, she'd have forgotten all about it.
***
"Mum, are you okay?"
Madeline looked up at her daughter and shook herself out of her trance. "I'm sorry, honey, I was miles away. What were you saying?"
Beth smiled and shook her head, dismissively. "I'm off out with the girls tonight... Are you sure you're okay?"