by Maximilian Lagos © 2006
All Rights Reserved. Not to be reproduced without the written permission of the author.
Yuki frowned as she reached the subway a few seconds too late. It was still in the station but she didn’t have time to make it to the women’s only car. She would have to be compressed into an ordinary car by the Pushers in the white gloves. The subway in Tokyo was a teeming mass of people trying to get somewhere, and the Pushers did just that, physically push people into the trains to get as many to their destinations as possible.
Yuki didn’t mind being bumped and jostled on her daily commute, what really bothered her were the dozens of squeezing, groping hands touching her every day.
She learned quickly that being molested by well-dressed salarymen was the hidden cost of riding the Ginza Line. Complaints fell on deaf ears so she became one of the millions of women who grudgingly put up with the abuse to get to work.
White gloved hands against her back pressed her into the already packed car and she could feel the lecherous eyes on her breasts and skirt.
Suddenly, Yuki was bumped roughly from behind and heard a whispered “I’m so sorry.” Having learned English in college but hearing so little of it on the streets of Tokyo, Yuki turned her head and found herself looking at a cute blond woman with a Canadian flag pin on her lapel.
Yuki just nodded politely and turned away. I feel so sorry for that woman, she thought, my countrymen have an unreal fascination with North American women, especially blondes. I can only imagine how much she gets touched. I must endure whatever happens to me because it will be so much worse for her. I do not wish to embarrass her.
Closing her eyes as the train doors closed, she felt the first rough hand on her butt. Then a second on her breast and another on her thigh. Please let this be over quickly, she prayed. Have your feel and leave me alone.
She was startled as strong hands began removing the ones already attached but her happiness was short-lived as the new hands defending her honour started an exploration of their own.
But somehow these hands were different, more timid and gentle. Not so much pawing as touching and teasing. Yuki could feel her body start to respond even though she knew she shouldn’t. When the fingers slipped past the waistband of her panties, she moaned ever so quietly and subconsciously adjusted to give the invader easier access to her moistening pussy.
The subway lurched to a stop, breaking Yuki out of her reverie as the hand was quickly slid from her underwear, giving her breast a playful squeeze on the way by.
Smoothing her clothing, Yuki turned and saw the blonde give her a sympathetic smile. She must have seen what was happening to me, she thought. I hope she wasn’t bothered too much. Here is it just a way of life.
The two women exited the subway and climbed the stairs to the street. They smiled at one another again and walked in opposite directions, the Canadian’s fingers still smelling of Yuki.