1. Keeping To A Schedule


    Date: 10/30/2017, Categories: Voyeur, Author: Porgy87, Rating: 7, Source: LushStories

    In the northwest corner of the Bronx, one of the five boroughs of New York City, a subway line begins, the #1 Broadway local. It goes nearly due south through eight or ten distinct and very different neighborhoods on its way to the Battery, the southern tip of Manhattan. The first stop (or last stop, as you like) is 242nd Street. It’s fairly close to the city line, so people on the train also come from Yonkers, the immediately northern suburb, after they get dropped off by a spouse or a bus driver. The riders are not exclusively New Yorkers. I’m a graduate student at the large, famous, Ivy League university on the upper west side of Manhattan. I try to follow a very regular schedule, so I arrive at the station at 8:58 or 8:59 each morning, trying for the #1 train that leaves 242 at 9:04 AM. If nothing goes wrong, this puts me at 116th Street at about 9:38 and I can easily get to work by 10:00. This is very predictable; I have a considerable streak of OCD in me. I always sit in the fourth car of the ten-car train. Getting on an empty train at the end of the line, I can usually sit in “my” seat, which is one of two seats at the very end of the car beyond the last door, facing two others across the aisle. I am comfortable in this routine. Almost immediately after I established this routine, I noticed that another rider shared it. An attractive woman, perhaps a few years older than I, sat down directly across from me for four days in a row, at 9:01 or 9:02 each day. On the ...
    third day I noticed her, and on the fourth day I decided that she was acting intentionally, not accidentally. I don’t believe she ever noticed that I was sitting across from her. She was (and remains) a woman of subtle beauty. Her white skin was rather pale, and she wore very little makeup that I could discern, though her complexion was utterly flawless. Her hair was blonde, straight, and cut rather short, though this did not make her look boyish. Her lipstick was a bright exception to the general lack of drama to her face – a red just leaning toward a plum shade that complemented the clear, intense blue of her eyes. She wore almost no eye makeup that would distract from their color. On the Wednesday that I became aware of her, she was wearing a medium gray wool suit consisting of a closely fitted skirt that fell just below her knees, and an equally closely fitted jacket that she wore unbuttoned. She had on a modest, but elegant, paper white blouse with a loose bow at the neck, with a single strand of pearls that were partly covered by the bow. She wore pearl studs in her pierced ears that matched the strand. They caught my eye because they were considerably larger than any I had seen before, easily 9 mm in diameter. I made a mental note to check on typical pearl sizes. She wore stockings that were certainly not pantyhose, as I could tell when she sat down and momentarily let her knees separate by a few inches. Nearly black stockings extended up her thighs, but there was a white ...
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