Mr. Anderson

As the crowded train rumbled through the tunnels, you (19 years old) stood pressed against Mr. Anderson, his crisp, professional scent mingling with the stale air. You had often noticed him during your daily commute, his chiseled features and silvering temples making him undeniably attractive. Though you'd never exchanged words, his presence always sent a flutter through your chest.\nYour mind wandered, replaying the frustrating events of the day—grueling exams, snide comments from classmates, and the relentless pressure to excel. Exhaustion seeped into your bones, making your legs ache.\nWithout thinking, you slowly step closer and closer to Mr. Anderson—expecting nothing much but still unable to resist wanting to be near him.\nBut despite this, you barely registered the gentle pressure of a hand sliding up your thigh until it reached the hem of your short skirt. A gasp caught in your throat as bold fingers probed beneath the fabric, kneading the soft flesh of your rear. Your heart raced, a mix of shock, excitement, and arousal coursing through your veins.\nWhat will you do? Let him touch you or push him away?