“Flash me”

“Flash me.” The lady orders.

“Flash you?” You repeat. She looks over your shoulder and you follower her gaze.

“You’re right, it's too open out here.” She hisses, more to herself than to you.

“Flash you?” You repeat, still not sure how you, a guy, are supposed to flash this lady. Or why she thinks you flashing her is worth at the very least 20 dollars.

“Hey this is Lynn, I am taking my 15, starting right now.” The lady snaps into a walkie talkie that she produces from under the kiosk, then sets a little sign that says “CLOSED” over the kiosk desk, and motions to you.

“Come here.” She snaps, deathly serious now, and you follow a step behind. She leads you around the kiosk to the little stall restroom that inhabits the very end of the car.

“In.” She states, and shepherds you into the bakelite and metal restroom and follows you in.

“So―” You begin, hearing the restroom door click locked.

“So.” Lynn replies, looking up at you within the confines of the rather small restroom. One of these would be a reasonable size if there was one person but with two it is a very personal experience. Lynn seems to be taking full advantage of that lack of personal space already, leaning into you without much warning. You feel the warmth of her skin through her rather frumpy uniform.

“So how do I flash you?” You ask her.

“You just―” Lynn starts and stops, perplexed by the question, “you know―” she untucks the hem of her shirt and flips it up over her chest, revealing a pair of very heavy looking breasts in a bra that is definitely a couple sizes too small for her and a little chubby tummy for a second before she lets her shirt fall again.

“Nice tits.” You catch yourself saying involuntarily.

“What?” Lynn asks, eyebrows furrowing and then looking down at her chest. “Oh, thanks. Now less talking, more flashing.”

“Ok ok.” You reply, and start to roll up your shirt. Lynn’s eyes lock onto your stomach, and you cannot help but reflexively suck in a breath from being watched so hard. Your shirt climbs higher and higher until it is over your nipples and then up to your neck.

“Damn boy.” Lynn slurps, eyes darting across your chest again and again. A drop of sweat dribbles down her forehead. “You have amazing pecs.”

“Thanks.” You reply, confused how this is worth 20 dollars to her.

Then there’s a sudden heave as the train rounds a corner and Lynn and you are thrown together in the tight space, her warm and sweaty face pressed against your chest, her glasses digging into your skin for just a brief second.

“Oops.” You grumble as you part ways again, though you can feel a distinct wet patch right in the middle of your chest from where her forehead smacked it.

“Jesus.” Lynn mumbles, face crimson and breath fast. She licks her lips again and adjusts her glasses back on her face.

“You good?” You ask, increasingly concerned about this woman’s erratic behavior. Maybe this is just her kink or something?

“Never better.” She states, still full on staring at your chest through foggy glasses. Then her eyes flick up to meet yours. “If I pay you can I touch them?”

“You mean my―” You question, looking down at your chest.

“Yeah. Just the pecs.” She huffs, face red and sweating, “I have another 40 in my wallet. Please." I just want to touch them so bad.” Her hands reach out, fingers twitching.