I should have known a spacious train cart was too good to be true. One minute I'm standing there with a decent amount of space to breathe and exist, and the next moment I'm almost shoved up against the opposite side door from the flood of people suddenly cramming into the train. The morning commute is killer, and sometimes I wonder if I'm only pursuing modeling in the hopes I can get a job where I don't have to take the train early in the morning. On days like this, that sounds like a perfectly reasonable justification for anything, doesn't it? I could put up with a world of backstabbing and slimy photographers if it meant never having to do this every morning for the rest of my life.
The train leaves the station, and the bumpiness jostles everyone in the cart a little bit. I feel a few brushes of maybe a hand something against the backs of my thighs or my butt, but I don't think too much about it. It happens;, things sway, and there just isn't enough space here when we're packed in like sardines. Instead, I just focus on my phone and on trying to play a game instead of worrying about it; there's so many rumours about girls getting groped or molested on trains, but I've never bought it. It's a porn trope people like to jerk off to, nothing more. It's too dangerous and risky, girls would be saying something. I know I would. If a guy decided to try and fuck me on the train I would be screaming my head off and beating him with my bag.
I put the worries out of my head and just focus on playing my game, until another bump shakes the cart, and this time a hand presses up very directly against my ass, as firm and intentional as could be, and I feel panic rise up inside of myself. My free hand grabs the strap of my bag, seeking to make good on the idea of swinging it and screaming bloody murder, as I shoot a dirty look over my shoulder. But what I see isn't the stereotype of some grubby old pervert, it's a somewhat terrified guy my age who seems more confused and nervous than anything, like he's sorry he grabbed my ass, even if his hand remains there. Maybe it really was the shaking.
"Sorry," he squeaks out, and I can't help but feel bad for him, as weird as it sounds. I sure wish he would take his hand off of my ass, but maybe he's just frozen in place from the awkwardness. There's so much going on here and things slow to an awkward crawl where I'm not even sure if he is just taking forever of it I'm being impatient.
But I say, "It's okay," anyway, and forgive it. I figure it's nothing to weird, whatever. He'll let go realizing I'm not mad at him and this whole thing will become easier and more sensible, so I just turn back toward my cute phone game and try not to think anything of this. Just a weird, awkward start to a perfectly okay day, right? I'm in a mood where I'd rather just avoid trouble and forgive than to do anything too brash, if only because of how goddamn tired I am.
Then he begins to squeeze.
"I'm glad to hear that," he says, leaning into my ear. "Girls as hot as you aren't usually in to train rape, but something about you just made me think you would be." I'm screaming on the inside. Fucking hollering. What is going on here? He begins to grope my butt more firmly, getting his hand under my skirt to feel me up right through my tights and my panties. Another hand snakes around front just as quickly, pressing against my pussy and finding my clit right away. My teeth clamp down on my tongue as I feel the pressure hit me, and I try not to cry out as shock and confusion both wash over my body, igniting something unexpected and out of line within me.
Was the hell is that supposed to mean? Something about me? I'm furious, insulted, embarrassed as could be, my cheeks burning bright, but as I try to force words out of my mouth, none come. I try again, and all I manage is a little squeak that doesn't even register over the noise of the train heading down the tracks. I'm left wordless and silent, looking over my shoulder again not toward the guy feeling me up, but toward everyone else. Nobody is paying attention, but there's so many people here. Too many people. I burn up in worry. Crowds don't really bother me, but suddenly I feel so awkward and overwhelmed by the number of people around that any hope of mustering up the courage I need is squashed firmly by the grim reality of what's happening here.
So much for definitely screaming and beating a man senseless with my bag.