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‘Shit, I swear too much and talk too much,’ she said, still smiling. ‘All the time.’ He nodded. He didn’t know what to say. He just stood there looking at her as everyone walked around them. Them. Together. She laughed. A nice laugh. Not at him. For him. He looked down at her perfect small hand on his elbow. It felt soft, even through his jacket. The nails of her fingers were meticulously groomed short and painted with clear polish. I wonder how they’d feel around my…. ‘Well anyway,’ she continued, ‘when I got off the train today, I walked along the platform and then jumped in two carriages behind you.’ ‘You did?’ ‘I stalked you,’ she said, smiling again. ‘I guess.’ Stalked? Her teeth were so white. Her lips were so perfect. Inviting lips. Red lipstick. He wanted to bend over and kiss her…. ‘So, are you going to ask me for a coffee or do I have to ask you?’ She smiled. ‘Um, would you like to go for a coffee?’ She laughed again. Beautiful. ‘Love to,’ she said, ‘but I’d like to know. I pulled back slightly and asked if I should wipe off my lipstick. "I'll get lipstick all over you if I don't." "I hope you do," John laughed and put his hand on my tit. Squeezing through the thin material of my dress and the thinner material of my lace bra, he seemed pleased. "I was told your breasts were natural. I'm glad I was told the truth," he said and squeezed harder. Then, between one breath and the next, the pleasant feeling of my tit being felt and molded changed to pain as my tit was gripped by strong fingers being dug into my soft flesh. Yelling, Stop that! That's too hard..., I tried to move away from the hand that continued to maul my tit. Moving with me, I was still sitting on the bar stool as John pinned me against the bar and his legs. Suddenly standing me up, he crushed me against his chest with two hands now squeezing and mauling my tits through my dress. Still verbally protesting, I tried to push his hands away from their tight grip on my tits but he was too.
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