I was a complete space case at work. I could usually knock out 30-50 support tickets in a day, and I think I got through 15, so of course I stayed late to get through another 15 so my boss<i>hopefully</i>wouldn't notice. I was dog tired by the time I got home, and then I stayed up way too late trying to put myself to sleep. Being perpetually single, I knew my body well enough to orgasm in a couple of minutes, but no matter how many times I just didn't feel satisfied. I couldn't get what I'd done-- or well, let happen -- on the train out of my damn head.<br/><br/><i>Who even am I?! </i>The simultaneous feeling of excitement and fear was absolutely wild. I don't know how I could feel the most sexy and the most dirty of my entire existence from a 20 minute interaction in broad daylight<i>on a fucking train?!?!?!</i><br/><br/>When I eventually did fall asleep, I slept like the DEAD. Unprepared for life in general, on Tuesday morning I realized I don't own a damn umbrella. It was amazing how much shit you find you need and don't have, and have but don't need, when you move to a whole new country. At least I have a raincoat. I dressed in my<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.filmstarjacket.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2021%2F02%2FSelena-Gomez-A-Rainy-Day-in-New-York-Trench-Coat-4.jpg&amp;hash=99050d988a5a801774690e864bc07a96" href="https://www.filmstarjacket.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/Selena-Gomez-A-Rainy-Day-in-New-York-Trench-Coat-4.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">favorite</a>Velma-esc outfit and sneakers, my pumps in my bag with my computer and hard drives. I didn't bother drying my hair and twisted it up since rain would ruin my hair anyway. My raincoat is longer than my skirt, but it has a slit in the back that makes it easy to walk when buttoned up. The skirt is a little shorter than I would have worn to work back home, but no one seems to mind the only female in the department dressing like one as far as I've noticed since starting this job. The waist has some give so I can tug it lower if I need to.<br/><br/>I'm laughing at myself as I make it to the platform, thinking<i>Hot Mess Express, tickets please</i>as the train pulls up. I'm pretending to myself that I got on the same train car as Glamazon McGrabbyhands out of habit and not because I'm actually some kind of exhibitionist freak. Bowler Hat Guy gets out of my way and I drop my bag by my feet and try to look nonchalant.<br/><br/><i>No, I don't see you there hot chick. No, you haven't dictated how or where I'm starting my morning. <b>I </b>did that all on my own, thankyouverymuch. </i><br/><br/>I'm all confidence and daring until the train doors close and I glance into the window to peek at the taller woman behind me. One look and I'm a kitten that found herself in the lion exhibit at the zoo.