It's the journey that counts...

Mary took a seat at the back of the bus. She tried to scoot to either side to hide behind a seat but her stiletto boots decided to root themselves to the floor in the middle, keeping her all too visible. She folded her leather clad hands in her lap and tried to slouch down, but the dresses internal corset made anything but perfect posture impossible.

She made sure not to meet anyone's eye as she they got on the bus, but was acutely aware of their eyes on her. It seemed as if everyone's eyes had been all over her ever since she'd put the dress on. The dress rumbled on it's prisoner in a way that can only be described as purring, as if in agreement.

The young man who had loaned her bus fare had taken a seat near the middle of the bus and hadn't taken her eyes off of her. Mary was having a hard time avoiding meeting his gaze. She was so obviously avoiding his gaze, like some ditzy school girl, when two days ago she would have cussed a young punk like him out. A blush crept onto her face.

The collar around her neck tensed, and suddenly her head was being lifted, her face turned directly towards him. Her eyes darted back and forth nervously, still under her control. After a moment she stared at him, trying to retain a look of normalcy. He smiled and gave her a brief wave. Mary was unable to look away, but she would be damned before she did anything else.

Her eyes widened as the heels slowly and deliberately spread her legs wide. She grabbed at her legs, trying to stop them from opening, but the gloves turned her attempt into sensual strokes up and down her thighs. He needed no more invitation. He rose and came to sit beside her.