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It took an age to work your way around the bustling group stood outside the bar on the cobbled side street. A heady mix of chatter and jovial laughter after another productive week in the office. Your ex-colleagues, some so familiar, others less so, wishing you goodbye once more, with warm hugs and kisses on the cheek. You finally slip from the bar content, a warm glow throughout, fuelled by engaging conversation and laughter with old acquaintances, further complimented by the warmth of the late spring sunshine upon your skin. Things looked promising, nothing concrete but an encouraging foot back in the door. The invitation of a ‘keeping in touch day’ back at the office one that you could not refuse. A chance to catch up with old friends and acquaintances but also a hope of a route back to that professional life that surprisingly you had come to crave as the months had rolled by. Not that you would change a thing but the day back in the office followed by the impromptu gathering at the local bar reminding you of times of less commitment, where life seemed so more spontaneous. The click of your heels echo against the cobbled street as you stride purposefully alluding to the confidence that had come flooding back as the day had progressed. You felt good, really good. Today a break from the norm and a day away a million light years from your everyday responsibilities. Dressed in a light grey business suit, fitted jacket over a pale, pastel blue blouse combined with a matching grey pencil skirt, the hem ending just at the knee. The outfit emphasising your slender waist and hourglass curves. Your old favourite pair of black stilettos completing your outfit, accentuating your legs and giving you an extra couple of inches. Catching a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of a passing shop window, your smile grows as you notice your hair softly blowing in the slight breeze. You begin to stride with a renewed spring in your step down the back street. Turning the corner onto the main street, a cab slows up waving you across and a wry smile spreads across your glossed lips as you feel the drivers eyes upon you. An attention that hadn’t felt for a while, or so it felt. Entering the train station, it seemed busier than it should be as you glance at the boards which direct you towards platform 8. A sigh escapes your lips as your eyes fall upon the delayed sign that flickers beneath. It didn’t really matter as this was a day out for you, a day away from the shackles of reality, so after a text home, you stop to get a bottle of water before making your way over to the escalators at the far end of the station. Stepping onto the moving escalator you wobble, a tipsy wine induced wobble that combined eryaman escort with a re-acquaintance with your heels had you reaching to steady yourself with a slight giggle. You never used to have this problem but it was obviously going to take your feet a while to get used to a day in high heels again! As the escalator descends your eyes fall upon the mass of people occupying the platform, the instant heat of so many crammed onto the platform. You sigh as at half nine at night you weren’t expecting these delays. You squeeze yourself onto platform, heaving bodies each jockeying for position as though the middle of the rush hour. Collective eyes glance up towards the electronic display and then back to their papers or books with a grumble or huff. Already you could feel the humidity, a notch or two higher than outside. You remove your suit jacket which you loop over your handbag before squeezing into a spot. People cram together as another announcement, barely audible, delivers an apology and something about a signal failure that is met by a collective groan. A year ago you would have known where to stand to increase the chance of being by the doors when a train finally pulls in but this seemed to be erased from your memory. Instead you squeeze yourself into a space and hope for the best, finding yourself like the others, your eyes looking up the screen awaiting some positive news. Fellow commuters consume themselves with heads buried in books or papers, or lost to music. As you wait you flick your cell on, opening up the internet. A little bit tipsy, playful thoughts spin through your mind as you bite down on your bottom lip and with a quick glance bring your cell that bit closer before typing in a web address. It was your secret, a little escape from the daily grind. A place where others explore erotic fantasies from the safety of anonymous names. You log on and check your messages, a sudden intrigue as you find a several new responses to your post, your eyes skipping over each one, the content playful and naughty. Keeping the cell close, you see a familiar username that makes you smile mischievously. One connection that had stirred your intrigue that bit more than the rest, a montage of mails exchanged over the weeks, his attentive words and thoughts that summed up your fantasy perfectly. A sudden eagerness to respond you begin to type articulating your forbidden desire in a more detail becoming consumed and blissfully unaware of those around. It was an age before the delayed train pulls into the station but pre-occupied you had barely noticed the time. Like a swarm everyone crowds around the doors. You could almost feel your sincan escort feet lift from the floor as you flick your cell shut just as you are swept up into the carriage, the hustle and bustle as people cram on as though in fear that this is the last train of the night. Unlike your fellow commuters you couldn’t feel the air of frustration that cross their faces, maybe because you now rarely run the gauntlet that those working in the city faced every day. With a beep the doors began to close, another desperate commuter forcing his way on that causes a ripple as people shuffle trying to find a minuscule amount of space to call their own. With a jolt the train pulls out of the station, those unfortunate ones left on the platform looking back through the windows, their faces quickly becoming a blur as the train picks up speed, the station lost to the rattle of the carriage that sways from side to side. Not daring to open your cell anymore, you find yourself wedged in between your fellow commuters, bodies pressed up against one another as the train sways from side to side. The sound of music from headphones near by, fellow commuters eyes down on cells or buried in papers surround you. Yet you find your mind coming back to that mail, responding to your fantasy request, the one you posted after just a few visits to the website that had already opened your mind to such erotic pleasures. The thought of you doing such a thing so wicked and daring but one that you couldn’t help but find increasingly naughty. So out of character at least to those on the outside, your recent posts fuelled a deep, dark fantasy. The suggestive longing to be surprised and taken wildly with no thought of the repercussions. A seed planted, your inhibitions lowered with the alcohol, fantasy thoughts spiral from one thing to another, responses fluttering in your mind. All the while the feeling of strangers bodies crushed up against you, suggestively tease your mind as you flick your eyes around your fellow commuters wondering what dark secrets lay within each one. Pulling out of another station you shuffle slightly as people squeeze their way out of the carriage before others join. Once more you feel yourself pressed up against other commuters, someone pressing up against your bottom, a crotch, a hand, man or woman you did not know. You feel you cheeks flush, finding yourself getting carried away with your sinful thoughts or were you? Unable to resist the urge you flick open your cell to find a new private message from him awaiting in your inbox. You find yourself letting out a small gasp, taken by surprise at the speed of his response. Usually it took a day or etlik escort two for a response as your nimble finger clicks open, trying desperately to keep the display as private as possible. A quizzical look forms across your face as eyes dance over just a single word that flashes upon the screen, making very little sense. Instinctively you fire a response questioning the word wondering if it was a simple mistake. Cell shut from prying eyes you could still feel something press up against your behind, deliberate or on purpose, your mind playing tricks. A quick glance behind gave way to a taller guy, his eyes glued to a book. An older professional male and alongside him a teenage girl chewing away but lost to her headphones. Suddenly the train jerks violently, everyone sways in the crammed carriage, bodies brush up against one another again. You heart races and despite telling yourself to stop being silly, you feel your nipples pebble, your intricate lace bra pressing up against your power blue blouse. Your mind imagines a hand upon you, feeling you through the fabric of your clothes. Caressing and stroking you or so you imagine, your breath quickening as you allow your fantasy to consume your mind. The naughty thought stirs your inner desire, a slight tingle forming between your legs as you lose yourself to your wild thoughts surrounded by your fellow commuters blissfully unaware of the erotic thoughts running through your mind. The brake of the train is quickly followed by the beep of the door, bringing you back to reality in a heartbeat. With a twist and a turn you squeeze your way out with many others. Stepping onto the platform you go to step forward but a slight gasp escapes your lips as you feel a hand on your upper arm, a firm grip, fingers tightening around you. Instantly you go to turn your head but feel the warmth of a mouth close to your ear. You feel his breath upon your skin but before you can say a thing a whispered word sucks the words from your mouth. You gasp as the word, the same word that had appeared in your inbox, resonates through you, the image of your online account and the exchanges with that someone special flashing before your eyes. Before you can respond he whispers “Don’t look and say nothing,” in a firm, strong gravely male tone. Confused and shell shocked you feel him guide you in the opposite direction to the hordes heading for the escalator exit. Instead you head towards the darker, dimly lit end of the platform. Your heart races, pounding in your ears as under the strangers hold he guides you in the opposite direction. The sound of his footsteps and the click of your heels becoming more prominent with each step, the murmur of chatter disappears into the background as the doors beep and the train pulls out of the station, an eerie quietness descending. Disappearing from sight behind a billboard at the deserted far end of the station, he releases his firm grip with a push, that causes you to wobble on your heels, your arms coming out to steady yourself against the billboard.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32