#title "Girl on the Train"
By "Senor Rojo"

 Ben sighed, sweating profusely on the train. Why he had decided to
 ride the Yamanote line during rush hour, he could not remember.
 Ugh, sweaty people were crushing into him.

 "Shibuya, stopping at Shibuya."

 The doors snapped open, and a bunch of girls rushed in,
 surrounding him and the other standing passengers in the train.
 The doors snapped shut, and the train lurched on to the next
 station as Ben grabbed the strap.

 Suddenly, he felt a familiar sensation; occasionally a woman or
 schoolgirl would crush into him, and he would get to enjoy the
 only pleasurable sensation that anyone _could_ enjoy during such a
 commute.

 Ben looked down at the girl crushing into him, her forehead level
 with his chin. She did not return his look. He could see the wire
 frames of her glasses peaking through her short, shoulder length
 hair that hid her face. He stared down the length of her, what he
 could see of the grey mini dress; her bare arms swaying to the
 rhythm of the train. She moved against him -- he could feel her
 chest heaving against him, as the undulating of the train pushed
 them against other people, and each other.

 (Doh!) Ben tried to suppress it, but, as usual his tool had a mind
 of its own -- and it was stirring. Ben tried to move his book bag
 in between himself and the girl, but to no avail.

 Ben winced as more people came in at Shinjuku, shoving him into
 the girl. Ben sighed, and dozed as the heat and the staccato
 rhythm of the train finally got to him. Suddenly, he felt hands at
 his waist.

 (Pickpocket!) he thought, trying to move, too late. In the crush
 of people, he couldn't get his arms down below the sea of flesh
 not his own. He could feel hands at his waist shaking, and....???

 Something was rubbing against his tool! He couldn't believe what
 he was feeling! And in the crush of people he _still_ couldn't get
 his arms below the shoulders of the sea of people around him.
 Suddenly, a small hand started rubbing his hardness through his
 pants....faster....faster. As he looked down at the girl, her face
 downcast, her body in the crush, the only sign that she was
 excited were her nipples making points through the short mini dress.

 As the train rocked back and forth, Ben could feel the girl's legs
 shifting in between one of his own, her hands increasing in tempo
 as his head began to swim from the stuffiness in the train, and
 the girl's hands.

 "The next stop is Harajuku. Harajuku is the next stop." The
 recorded voice of the conductor took him by surprise, and he
 stiffened, coming in his pants as the doors snapped open. With a
 start, the girl jerked her head back, smoothed down the pleats of
 the dress, and in one fluid motion put something in the front
 pocket of his trousers before getting off the train.

 It was only after the doors snapped shut that Ben removed the what
 the girl had put in his pocket. Ben had no trouble figuring out
 what the pungent smell emanating from the card was. As he drank in
 her scent he read the contents of the card:

<PRE> Miyako Takahashi
 Sign: Libra
 Birthdate: Secret (^.^)
 Pocket Bell: 03-3723-XXXX
 Cell Phone: 08-6834-XXXX
</PRE>

 Smiling to himself, he put the card up in his front shirt pocket,
 and sat down in the now empty train for the ride home, covering his pants with the backpack.

 He hoped that no one would notice when he got off the train.

 End.