It didn't take a great amount of mental gymnastics to brush off the previous contact as accidental or my own imagination, but this time there was no way around it. While<i>grab</i>may have been a strong way to phrase the current level of physical contact, she absolutely was palming my ass. The absolute glamazon of a woman I have been ogling for the better part of a month had her hand on my ass. In broad daylight. Oh. My. God. Did she squeeze? I had to have imagined that. Except her hand was still there!!<br/><br/>I looked at my feet, terrified to meet her gaze in the window again, concentrating on the nude pink polish on my toes instead of the practically magenta blush that was heating my neck to my ears. I am definitely NOT concentrating on the warm hand on my --<i>oh for fucks sake</i>why am I kidding myself.<b>What the fuck do I do?!</b>If I move away, I could draw attention. But if I don't, does that make me some exhibitionist weirdo? No weirder than the person actually playing grab-ass with a total stranger, I guess. I wasn't at all accepting of that<i>man</i>pulling this same move in the other train car. Why was this any different?! Well, obviously it was different-- she's HOT and men are boring. Double standard, sure, but I'm not prepared to make a commotion for equality's sake. And even less so for my own sake. And to be totally honest with myself I have never felt like anyone so totally out of my league had any interest in me. What the hell was I supposed to do here? Well, for propriety I knew what I<i>should</i>do but there was just no way.<br/><br/>I fidgeted with my braid and did nothing but stare at my toes. Yup. Nothing. I'd do nothing. How far could she really take it anyway? How far would I<i>let</i>her?