Subway

by plus plus

Copyright© 2017 by plus plus

Fiction Story: Paying attention helps

Tags: mt/Fa   MaleDom  

I had made a huge mistake, slipping into the subway car just before the door closed. It took a second or two for me to realize my predicament, the sour smell of the car became overwhelming. I grimly held my breath until the next stop when I ducked out and ran to the next car. The relief of escaping that smell made me smile as I hung onto the rail.

As usual, I glanced around the car, seeing a mass of humanity. Young, old, pretty, not so pretty. I found, as I often did, a pairing that I could try to figure out. The older punk rocker type with a little girl, cute as could be, sitting next to him chatting excitedly. The family carrying lots of bags across the way. The tourists trying to read the map, Italian I think, by their accents.

Then there was a girl sitting below where I stood. She was blonde with her hair tied up, pretty but a bit older than myself. If I had to guess, just out of college. I was a senior in high school so she was a hundred years older than me, or so it felt.

Playing with the ring on her right hand, she pulled it away, revealing a tattoo underneath. Two wavy lines crossing each other. The sight shocked me, I’d seen that image before. She kept playing with the ring, and then letting it slide back to cover the tattoo.

My mind was racing as I tried to remember. My body kept swaying with the motion of the subway while I remembered my uncle Rob showing me a photo of the same tattoo on a woman’s hand. Was it the same woman? It couldn’t be, the skin tone was much darker than the woman below me. What was it that he had said?

“Can you show me that tattoo please?”

She looked up blankly at me, I noticed she had white headphones on. She looked at me skeptically, removing one earbud, “Excuse me?”

“Can you please show me the tattoo under your ring?”

Her face changed from wary to shocked. Without a word, she pulled the ring off showing the tattoo underneath. After a second or two, she slid the ring back on, looking like she wanted to end the conversation.

“I’d like to see the second one now. They come in three don’t they?” I was remembering what my Uncle had said, that if you ever see this tattoo, you should ask to see all three.

She settled down, but her face was still a bit flushed. She carefully pulled her shirt out and then lifted it to show me her belly button with the wavy lines circling around. After a second, she tucked her shirt back in.

“Excellent, now the third.”

She looked around nervously, “Here?”

“Why not?” Her face blanched so I corrected myself, “Do you have somewhere you’d prefer to show it to me?”

“Somewhere private if possible. My apartment is in four stops, or we could duck into a clothing store dressing room. Maybe a handicapped bathroom?”

I was a little confused, I thought I was going to be told off. Or she would end the conversation rudely. Instead, she seemed nervous even while trying to offer different possibilities. Her apartment? The thought of that pulled at my gut, it was almost painful except it was awfully exciting. “Your apartment will be fine.”

I was too nervous to say anything else, so I just stood over her, looking down at the top of her head. The subway kept bouncing along. I thought about my uncle Rob and how had passed away. My memories of him were always pleasant but I realized it had been a while since I had thought of him, or spoken with his widow.

When we reached her stop, the girl stood up as I made room for her. “This way,” she said as she aimed for the subway door. I followed quietly behind her. I was watching her ponytail swish back and forth while I looked her up and down. She was my height with a nice figure. Her jeans were quite snug so I was enjoying watching her butt move as we walked through the station and then up the stairs. She gently guided us down a street and to an apartment building without saying much. As we entered the building, she said hello to the doorman who looked suspiciously at me. The entire time since I had agreed on a location, her eyes were lowered. She couldn’t look directly at me. We stood in the elevator, each of us nervous in our own way.

As soon as she closed the door to her apartment, she began disrobing without a word. Each piece of clothing was removed, folded carefully and placed in a neat pile. When she finished, she knelt down in front of me, lowered her head to the floor and carefully lifted her butt so that I could see the matching wavy lines tattooed across her lower back. From the floor below me, I heard, “Sir?”

 
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