The woman was lost to sensation as she stood in the toilet stall at her office. She had rushed in, and headed to the restrooms, ostensibly to straighten herself up but failing that had gone to the stall.<br/><br/>She touched herself, fingers sliding between her soft hair to her soft mound and feeling the wetness which had betrayed her so to the young woman. How much more could she take? Her eyes closed she thought back to the moments in the train car, her body lewdly on display, her thick, if somewhat sagging breast exposed, the nipple so hard it ached, while her sopping wet sex had been explored through the fabric of her panties. How possessively the girl had groped her, marks still present on her white breasts, the bite mark on her neck. Oh she wanted the girl's mouth on her breasts, between her thighs, she wanted those red nails to rake her belly and bottom. She wanted the red tipped fingers slide inside her. The woman moaned and her fingers slid close to her drenched opening.<br/><br/><i>What was happening to her?</i><br/><br/>There had been people all around them and it had felt as though they had been alone, as the wantonly let the girl play with her body. Would they get caught, arrested maybe? She would lose her job. Somehow it didn't matter. She had enough money placed aside to retire, her needs were few and she lived modestly, didn't drink or smoke.<br/><br/>She knew that if she touched herself for any length of time now she would climax. The woman reluctantly removed her hand and straightened her clothes. She wanted to touch the girl, wanted to touch her the way she was being touched. She wanted to smell her, taste her, she wanted to explore her breasts and ...<i>say the word... say it....her... say it now....her pussy.</i>She wanted to be naked with her, no she wanted to take the clothes of her, reveal her and consume her with her passion.<br/><br/><i>... oh, what was she to do.</i><br/><br/>Thursday came and went and she spent the moments thinking of the girl, thinking of the pleasure, the pleasurable pain as the girl had manipulated and claimed her body. She wanted to take her hand and drag her out of the car, drag her home and ...<br/><br/>and what?<br/><br/>Give herself to this woman.<br/><br/>A woman whose name she knew not.<br/><br/>But she knew her touch, a touch she now needed as much as oxygen.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">***Friday***​</div><br/>The woman wore a shorter skirt today, the hem swirling around her shapely calves which were encased in nylons held up by a garter. She felt self-conscious, but knew she couldn't stay away. The woman stood on the platform waiting for the train to arrive, waiting for her bird of paradise.