My Subway Pervert

Usually after class, I join my classmates for drinks and bonding at a restaurant/bar near school. I happen to loathe the gathering spot, as the waiters seem to count the second from when we walk in the door to when we will leave. Nothing makes me feel more like socializing than an ancient waiter in a red coat throwing my overpriced Diet Pepsi at me and demanding payment the second the mini bottle hits the dirty reddish table cloth. The free snacks do not make up for the general nasty atmosphere.

On Monday, we went elsewhere, and while I now fear that I misled the waitress about my interest in her, at least no one yelled at us or forced us to keep ordering as we chatted into the wee hours. Despite our positive experience, the group headed back to the crappy restaurant bar. I decided to go to a wacky open mic event instead.

The event was still going strong when I slipped out at 12:30. I could barely keep my eyes open. Fortunately, I did not have to wait too long for the subway. I sat toward the front of the train, reading a magazine. A few stops into my journey, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone with grey-ish colored jeans walking rapidly toward me.

The woman sat in the seat on the bench next to me. What the fuck? I thought. The entire car was empty. What was wrong with this asshole? Then she pressed her thigh against mine.

It took me a nanosecond to decide that this was bullshit. I didn't even look at her. Eye contact seemed like an invitation to chat. I got up, walked out of the car, and re-boarded the one behind it. I had just settled down to read again, when the jeans reappeared. Fuck fuck fuck!!! I knew I shouldn't wear a dress that was so low cut. Now I have stalker.

The woman sat down on the same bench on which my ass resided. I looked over at her. It was my friend T. from school. I burst out laughing, as did she.