Control, Sam, Contol.......

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Her white shirt was too tight to conceal even her tiny breasts and he could see they made an impression not only on her clothing but also on the man sitting opposite. Noted for future use.

A respectable, office-length black skirt guarded her legs from all but the briefest exposure. It could not shield her rear when she had walked on board, however, and knew from the panty-line that she was wearing skimpy underwear. He had a closet rebel and that appealed to him more than anything her blonde, short hair or other physical charms could invoke. She was perfect because she less than pure herself, though he wondered where the guilt came from sometimes given that he felt so little and thought so much.

The train set off and the commuters engaged in their ritual sleeping, chatting and vacant looks out of the window. There were many pointless stops en route but he knew that office girls only ever went to Lexington, in fact it was the only city, which still seemed to be hiring, so he had all the time he could want.

He closed his eyes and saw the carriage clearer. His arms were crossed under his jacket and his hands were free to roam.

She felt a soft current of air pass over her chest as he felt her nipples harden in response. Under his jacket his hands were working now, as feet to the swan, as lambs to their ultimate slaughter. She continued to read her paper so he knew he had the pressure just right, enough but not too much so that it could not be explained by normal convection. He had built himself a special place to enjoy and his erection pleased him.

The man opposite her was easily in his fifties and practised at not letting his attraction to strangers show. It showed only to the one expert at the covert study of others and it gave him an idea.

Sam focused on her skirt that had rode up a little as she crossed her legs. She held he thighs together to shield her modesty but it was the flash of calf that had attracted her admirer. The train rocked from side to side and Sam timed himself with the motion, peeling her hem back minutely with ever movement.

Her admirer noticed and became less discreet despite himself. He could not see up her skirt but at this rate she may just expose herself for a microsecond when she uncrossed her legs. It was the kind of sexual-tension he loved at the office, he needed to survive his own sex-poor marriage and he desired it just because he could.

The paper shielded her but even if she had seen how her skirt had moved up she would have had no concern. She knew that man was eyeing her up across there and she had the situation well in hand, in fact she loved the power she felt in transfixing him. Had he been younger and cuter maybe she would have played along but this guy was not worthy.

Sam waited until she uncrossed her legs and then added just a tiny extra pressure to her inner thighs. It was all over in a second and she felt nothing but embarrassment at her failure, quickly slamming her thighs together again and focusing on her paper with renewed earnest. Damn the train, she thought.

Her admirer had struck gold. That brief flash of white panties, moulded around her pussy lips, would be the subject of masturbation for days to come. He would elaborate on that small moment, creating a fantasy that would allow him to use his wife as a surrogate and have this woman again and again. He chuckled inside at his victory whilst Sam chuckled at the erection he saw in the man's pants.

Share and share alike, Sam thought. She was composed again but still began to watch the man opposite