Japan

Gale arrived at the Tokyo Medical Center around noon. The train she had taken from the hotel she was temporarily staying at was a much cleaner than the few she'd been on in the States, but was incredibly tightly packed. She brushed a strand of her dark brown hair away from her brilliant blue eye, and replaced her sunglasses with her black framed eyeglasses. She was a surgical nurse, and had signed up for a medical worker exchange diversity program with a local hospital. She was to work in Japan for the next three months while a Japanese nurse filled in her role at her home hospital.

She was proficient in the language, but not quite fluent. Gale had taken two years of Japanese in college (she was a bit nerdy and a big fan of Japanese cinema and games). Being that she would be a medical setting where most of the conversation would be in international standard terminology, she was comfortable with her skills and looked forward to deepening her understanding of Japanese language and culture.

As the passengers shoved passed her, she felt hands slide over her breasts, over her legs, and ass. It couldn't be avoided due to her incredibly voluptuous body. No one made eye contact, they just squeezed themselves forward as if the train was giving birth to a throng of people. She blushed, but didn't think anything of it. She was used to accidental touches from crowded nightclubs back in the States. Having F sized breasts and 38" wide hips on a hourglass body virtually gauranteed a few random touches.

She made her way to the female locker room, and quickly realized just how petite Japanese women were. Most of her coworkers were A or B cups with slim, tiny bodies. She was nearly exploding out of her scrubs. "Oh well." she thought. She figured the Japanese men would be too polite to stare. Gale didn't know a lot about the "real Japan" but was deeply fascinated by it, which was one of the reasons she took the opportunity to travel and work there.

She just watched for the first few days. A few things were notably different. In the States, the nurses usually stay back and direct things during surgery. Here, they were something similar to assistants to the surgeon. Every morning and evening, she crammed herself on the train with the same passengers. It seemed to her that each day, a few more hands "accidentally" touched her, or lingered just a bit too long, but it may have been her imagination.

By the fifth day, she was ready to work. It was a long day when she was done. On the train ride back to the hotel, she was lucky to have missed the worst of the rush hour crowd, and was actually able to get a seat. The lingering jet lag and the exhausting day; as well as the gentle ride of the train, quickly lulling her to sleep. She idly noted that there weren't many women on the train; and it was filling up with men, mostly office types, quickly filling back up to the fully crammed volume she was used to. It made sense given that she knew office workers often worked long hours in this country. One man nodded at her with a smile. He was an office worker from the looks of him. She nodded back, and slid against the wall to make room for him to sit. Soon, the train was rolling again, and Abigail drifted into sleep.