Luisa dressed in brown loafers, black slacks, a white buttoned blouse, and a slim-fit beige sweater. She also traveled with a messenger bag. Her business casual always blended into the background of the grays and browns of downtown, outshined by the young hipsters, the starving artists, and the rich libertines who colored the streets with their fashion, their noise, and their confidence. The city’s inhabitants struggled for significance, and those that failed were doomed to be forgotten.
Luisa strove not to be remembered. She hid her passion like a dark secret and feared that, one day, someone might discover her secret and ruin her. The sheer thrill of losing that secret kept her toeing the line of exposure for the sake of ecstasy.
On a Thursday like any other, Luisa waited at the platform for the 6:05 train to arrive. She walked to a spot underneath the furthest escalator where she could see no other commuter, footsteps being the loudest sound apart from the machine hum above her. She fed her anticipation for the coming train by looking around her to make sure no one could see what she was about to do. She swapped the position of her bag’s cross-body strap to rest on her other shoulder, off her chest.
Luisa reached under her sweater and unbuttoned her blouse. Any slight movement reminded her that she had no bra underneath. Without the support, her bust sagged slightly with its own soft weight, her large nipples pressing against the crisp cotton. People walked, trudged, and stomped down the stairs next to the escalator as two lights shone brighter down the tunnel. The train shrieked louder in the distance.
Luisa’s hand worked faster. The train’s scream echoed into the terminal as it slowed. Its face stared down at Luisa from the edge of the tunnel. Her hand flew over the button keeping her shirt pinned tight over her tits. With that, they were free, and she withdrew her hand just as she could start making out the body shape of the operator in the motor car. She turned away and smiled at her own embarrassment as the train rushed in.
Luisa turned back toward the car at her end of the platform, the furthest from the center, as the train squealed from the tunnel. The pneumatic brakes hissed as the cars rolled to a stop over the rail. The train chimed. All the doors slid open. At this hour, most of the people inbound to her station were homeless, sleeping on the trains as they traveled back and forth. The car she chose had one sleeper and an elderly couple who shuffled out with haste. They didn’t bat an eye at her, but she thought everything about them.
Did they see me? Would they say anything if they did? Probably just to each other. Did it look like anything, or did it just look like I was scratching myself? Her mind buzzed as she stepped into the car.
She looked out to see if anyone else might step into her trailer car. Passengers rushed in the trailer cars closer to the center of the platform, ignoring Luisa’s car. The intercom switched on: ‘Please stand clear. The doors are closing’. A young woman ran down the steps but couldn’t make it. The train doors closed. Alone with a sleeping passenger, Luisa watched the platform move away slowly in front of her.
Just as the train began to pick up more speed with a high-pitched whine, Luisa lifted her sweater to expose her chest to the underground platform. She rested the bunched-up knitted fabric on top of her breasts and pushed them against the cold glass of the window as the fluorescent lights of the terminal disappeared to give way to the darkness of the tunnel.
The lights inside the trailer car reflected off the glass to cast a faint mirror image of Luisa’s guilty face back at her–downturned eyes staring into the black tunnel, thick eyebrows knitted as she silently counted down to the next stop, small lips pinned shut. The train thundered all around her. She gripped the chrome handrail in front of her, her hands far apart to allow her tits the room to spread against the glass. Luisa stepped closer to the window to squeeze her chest almost flat onto it. The cool flat pane nipped at her skin and sent hot shivers straight down to the pit of her abdomen. Too soon for her liking, the intercom switched on, announcing the next station.
Luisa stepped back from the glass as the shifting pitch in the train’s shriek over the rails warned her that the end of the tunnel was approaching. Her nipples stuck to the glass for a moment, her flushed skin peeling off in a satisfying way to reveal how erect her nipples were. Freeing her chest sent a buzz throughout her whole body and mind. Eyeing the sleeping man toward the middle of her trailer car, she waited with her hand on her rolled-up sweater.
Light flooded the edge of the tunnel. Luisa yanked her sweater down, her blouse still unbuttoned and open underneath. Her hardened nipples stuck out against her thin sweater and pointed toward the window facing the terminal.
With this station much more populated than the last, Luisa watched with trepidation as a crowd of people boarded each trailer car–including a few in her own. She turned toward the other people in the car with her and held onto a pole to steady herself as the train moved again.
Did anyone see my boobs?
Luisa glanced at a few passengers’ faces, but she couldn’t catch anyone’s gaze in a way that answered her question. One man with dark eyes returned her glance, then looked back down to rummage through his bag, pulling out a book. Pushing a curly lock of brown hair behind her ear, Luisa reminded herself not to stare and chose to look down instead.
What could she get away with? Her heart thumped at the possibilities. Nine stops to go. Her pussy had already started to leak into her panties from the display she put on earlier, and it only got more difficult to ignore as she saw her nipples poking through her sweater. How disheveled did she look? So many thoughts swimming in her mind. Only so much time to figure out her next move. So little room for error, too.
Slow and discreet, Luisa pressed her legs together, stood right in front of a few college kids. They swapped from topic to topic with ease–their lack of social life, the paper that’s due on Monday, that one annoying professor–and Luisa listened to every word. They held her hostage without knowing as she flexed her thighs in a rhythm that squeezed around her swollen clit. She scarcely breathed. When she did, she shuddered silently through her nose. With her eyes trained on a young man’s sneaker, Luisa let her mind run wild as he talked to his fellow students.