Watching each train pull in, deposit it’s passengers, collect new ones, and depart had been nerve-wracking at first but had taken on a sort of methodical reassurance. I sat knee to knee on the grafittied bench with Ashley. While her hands stayed still in her lap, mine couldn’t stop returning to the hem of my skirt to tug it down futily. Every 3-5 minutes another train would sweep into the station, pushing a cool wall of air against the waiting passengers and around my legs. Every once in a while I’d try and tap my feet in nervousness, only to rediscover the absurd height of the stilettos Ashley had chosen made this task uncomfortable at the least, impossible at the most. We had been sitting here for fifteen minutes, and she had yet to give me any hint as to what we were doing here. She hadn’t said much since we’d arrived, but every few minutes she’d find a way to touch me– a hand on my knee briefly or a quick peck on my neck. Once in a while I’d glance at her in my periphery and see her intently watching the trains move past.

Finally, she stood up and looked down at me. She held out her hand and I grabbed it, knowing better than to ask questions, and thankful for the help in standing up. I was not used to the sort of outfit Ashley had selected for me that night. When I had walked into our bedroom, and saw the outfit layed out, I almost asked where the rest of it was. I could see her, waiting for me to protest, to call an end to this whole thing, but I just swallowed my pride and put on an obliging smile. Spencer Carlin is no quitter.

With one hand holding mine, and the other clutching a still-mysterious big black bag, we tottered toward the edge of the platform as the headlights from the next train punctured the tunnel, needling their way until two bright eyes emerged with a raging mass of steel behind them. Ashley’s hand rested just below my neck and as the train rushed past us she ran her hand down the partially backless shirt she had so cruelly selected until her hand dipped just slightly into the back of the tiny skirt. My knees weakened a bit as I felt a wave of nervous, sensual energy sweep over me.