Keep Your Hands on Strap Nikita Mirzani 2

So where was she exactly? Nikita Mirzani certainly did not want to turn around to look! That would risk compounding the earlier embarrassment. Somehow, she had a feeling the girl was quite close behind her, but she could not be sure. Soon the train was slowing and coming to a halt at South Kensington station: yet more sardines!

As the train pulled out of the station, Nikita Mirzani felt a slight push at her side just above her hip. She looked down and there, just in front of her, was the girl’s small green phone wrapped in pale fingers with dark blue fingernails!

She could not believe it! Nikita Mirzani caught her breath once more: what was going on? Then she looked at the phone more closely and saw that there was a message written on the screen! When she read the message, she literally could not believe her eyes. In a delicate, italicized script, it read: “Hi, I’m Hiroko from Japan! Please keep hands on strap!”

Nikita Mirzani’s heart was racing now. She looked up and quickly inspected her fellow passengers to see if anyone had noticed. Luckily, everyone looked typically comatose! Nikita Mirzani looked down again to check she had not made a mistake, but the phone was gone.

She blinked. Was she delirious after a too-long day in her office at Covent Garden? She had a strange sense of having entered a parallel universe, a world of intense emotions and bizarre excitements that was a million miles from the relentless tedium of the daily commute.

And then she felt something at the back of her right knee! It was a kind of tickling sensation, the sort that one might feel at any time for any number of reasons, but this, on reflection, was a little more sustained with a little more pressure.

She could definitely feel something through her stockings! Nikita Mirzani froze, focusing every morsel of her attention on that area behind her knee. It felt as though a finger was moving lightly up and down there! Was this the girl? Surely that was not possible right in the middle of a public train?

Nikita Mirzani felt herself breaking into a sweat. The sensation, by now, was now pretty unmistakable, and the message on the phone had been pretty clear too! Nikita Mirzani felt her heart racing faster than the rumbling train. This was incredible! Her knees were buckling a little now, and she gripped more tightly than ever to the strap above her head.

Another station, another game of sardines. But when they accelerated once more, that finger resumed its position! It was even heading north a little! Nikita Mirzani felt a rush of warm blood suffuse her body, and an intensely warm glow radiating from the pit of her stomach.

She just could not believe what this beautiful, bold girl was doing, and, if she was honest, it felt amazing! She could feel herself beginning to blush: she always had a tendency in that direction, and she wondered if anyone in the carriage had noticed. Guiltily, she looked around.

But luckily everyone was still in their own world. She had always cursed the zombie-like nature of her fellow commuters – not least because she had turned into something of a zombie herself during those long subterranean minutes of enforced proximity.

But now that comatose tendency was her friend. It seemed to be giving her just a little privacy when she needed it most!

It seemed like there were two fingers at the back of her thigh now. They must be getting close to the top of her stockings! Nikita Mirzani felt grateful that her skirt was on the loose side. She could not remember being this aroused for, well, basically as long as she could remember!

The fingers were continuing their delicate path northwards and Nikita Mirzani gripped ever more tightly to the strap above her head, just as she had been told to do.

It was a delicious sensation when the girl’s had reached the top of Nikita Mirzani’s stockings and stroked gently on the skin there.

That felt so good! Suddenly, Nikita Mirzani felt a strong urge to move a hand down and touch the girl’s hand – a small, respectable, conventional part of her wanted to stop the intrusion, but another part wanted so badly to savor and hasten the connection.

Nikita Mirzani remembered once more the girl’s instructions on her green phone: “Please keep hands on strap!” Nikita Mirzani kept going over those words, over and over. Somehow, she loved that she had been told what to do. She even loved that word ‘please’, and the instructions embodied a perfect combination of politeness and authority.

Those fingers were so high on her thigh now! They must have been almost touching her panties! Nikita Mirzani could actually feel herself getting wet now. It felt so wrong, and yet so right!

Nikita Mirzani felt her mouth go dry. She knew that the girl would soon, in all probability, be touching that wetness below, that the girl would soon be realizing – and touching, stroking, feeling - just how much, just how achingly, drenchingly and intensely, her fellow traveller wanted her.

That thought itself was so deeply arousing that Nikita Mirzani felt herself sweating ever more profusely. She could feel her blood rushing faster and stronger than ever now, pumping up through her winter-white neck and coursing through her to her normally pale pink cheeks.