Message-ID: <60156asstr$1270617002@assm.asstr.org>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 06 Apr 2010 16:05:42 -0500
From: Angelique Rich <angelique.rich@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Inconspicuous (f mast)
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Date: Wed, 07 Apr 2010 01:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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This is a short story I wrote for an erotic story contest over in
Secondlife. I hope you like it :)

Inconspicuous
By Angelique Rich

7:15 AM, it's the same train as every day, the same wagon and the same
me who boards it for the thirty minute ride to work. Its the same
people as most day, strange how everybody seems to take the same train
every day, boarding the same wagon and sitting on the same seats. But
then, I'm doing it as well every day, so its probably perfectly
natural. The evening, when I go home, its a bit different, as I don't
leave at the same time my office and probably everybody else neither.
But in the morning commute, it's always the same, the same sleepy
people as every day and I open my paper and start reading.

7:15 AM, it's the same train again, again I board the 3rd wagon and go
to my place. I don't bother looking at the people, they will be the
same as every day and I open my newspaper. I the headline makes me
frown, again an article about evil banks and again a journalist who
whines about the big wages the bankers get. I used to read that stuff,
but hey, it's getting old news now. I look out of the window, looks
like summer would be just around the corner and then return to my
lecture.

7:15 AM, I had to run today to catch the train, so it's the same
routine, just with me a bit more breathless than usual boarding the
3rd wagon and - finding my seat taken. I feel slightly annoyed that
she dared to take my seat and then I chuckle silently. A seat on the
other side of the aisle is free and I sit down, opening my paper.
Turning pages, I look up and glance at her. About 30 something,
shoulder long dark brown hair, dressed for business, knee long dark
skirt, white blouse, her jacket matching the color of her skirt. She
has pretty manicured fingernails, their color matching her lipstick.
She reads the same commuter paper as I do, actually as everybody does,
and as she turns pages, I watch her hands, she wears no rings. She
actually doesn't seem to bother about accessories, the the only one I
can see is is a scarf she wears. She smiles as she reads the cartoons,
nice - a gray mouse business woman with humor.

7:15 AM, the usual routine, the usual commuters and I have adjusted to
my former seat being taken by the gray mouse. I imagine her to work in
finance, all gray mice work there. The only remarkable thing about her
is the scarf she wears every day, it looks as if she has quite a
collection. I chuckle, imagining a inconspicuous office girl with a
scarf fetish. I doubt she ever imagines doing anything else with her
scarf than wrapping it around her neck. I look at her and wonder, if
she sometimes gets home from work from one of these days, tense,
uneasy from a meeting going wrong at the office or the  pressure to
keep a deadline for a report.

I imagine her falling into her couch with a deep sigh. Unhidden by the
jacket, her breasts look more prominent, held by the expensive lace
bra that is just barely guessable. She lets her head fall back, and
sighs deeply as she relaxes. Her left hand lightly touches her belly
though the blouse, a light touch that feels soft and relaxing as she
draws circles, moving her hand slowly up and down. The hand moves up
between her breasts and then circles it, a light touch as her
fingertip feels the lace. She smiles lightly as she opens the blouse,
exploring the touch of her skin with every button she opens, one by
one. She cups her breast and gives it a squeeze, inhaling deeply as
she lets her fingers close through the lace, twisting the nipple and
bringing it to life until she feels it press against the lace
material. She pinches it briefly between two fingernails, a sharp
sensation that makes her inhale and cup her other breast as well.
Without looking, she adjusts the cup of her bra, until she is able to
pull the nipple through the hole she cut into the bra, trapping it  in
the lace. She looks at it and wets a finger in her mouth. She has
long, thick, dark brown nipples and she twists it between the wet
fingers, pulling on it and pinching until her breathing quickens and
the soft exhales change into soft moans.

The evening sun shines through her window, a warm, yellowish light
that caresses the woman on the couch who pleases herself, her mind
filling with erotic thoughts and fantasies. She slips her 4 inch high
heels from her feet and puts her right foot on the couch, causing the
skirt to slide up until her silk panties are visible in the warm
light. She looks at her trapped nipples that poke through the holes in
her bra, thick, aroused wet nipples, shining from the wetness her
fingers applied.

She moans and slides a hand over the leg. She moves the foot on the
ground aside, opening up for the sun to shine on her aroused center
and she moans as she feels its warmth mix with the heat that builds
between her legs. She closes her eyes as she feels the hand move up
her thigh, gasping lightly as it moves from he stocking to the naked
skin and then higher until she feels the soft, smooth silk under her
fingertips. Her hips move in a brief game of hide and seek with the
finger, until she lets it run lightly over the hidden clit. 

Her finger moves lightly over the silk, tracing the folds it knows so
well, caressing the lips and the tender skin below them, teasing
herself by denying to touch the begging clit again, until her hips
move in slow, begging waves and she feels the dampness as her middle
finger finally presses the silk between her swollen, aroused lips. She
shivers at the urge to do it, to give herself the relief she wants so
much and then stops.

She knows she is not allowed to do it yet. She slowly gets up and
undresses as she walks to her computer and turns it on. She opens the
hand like icon on the desktop and as she viewer starts, she reaches
for her neck and opens the scarf. Her fingers feel for the leather
collar, and she feels the small metal plate on its front. She touches
the engraved letters and shivers, remembering how she felt when she
read it the first time. 

"Property of - "

7:45 AM, the jerk, as the train stops, ends my daydreaming. Our eyes
meet and I look at her scarf and then back in her eyes and smile. She
smiles back, a slightly insecure smile as she caught my gaze to her
scarf and for a brief moment I'm tempted to reach out for it and feel
for a small leather collar as I get up to leave the train.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As always, feel free to tell me if you liked it. 
If you didn't please tell me as well :)

And - if the story gave you an erotic tickle - thank you :)

Those who liked it can find my other stories here:
http://cynfulangel.blogspot.com/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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