The next few steps she took on the train, Mercy grew excited at the thought of acting out spontaneously, convinced this was the only way she'd be able to break free of the grueling loneliness and misery she'd been spiraling down recently, and she took another drink to celebrate such an optimistic prospect.
Walking toward the section of seats that were open to anyone who pays per ride, different than the section of seats reserved for her massive firm, hoping that this small act might help push her towards more spontaneous and unpredictable situations to act on.
Staring at the seat she usually sat in when she rode the train, she took another few drinks from her flask. A few moments later, a corpulent woman she didn't recognize suspiciously looked around, and then deposited herself in it.
“Pathetic wench,” Mercy whispered under her breath much too quiet for anyone else to hear, laughing as she did. She took another swig of whiskey as she began wondering if she felt as unhappy on the inside as the heavy woman taking her usual seat looked on the outside.
The train began moving quickly, shooting along the track with great force. Mercy loved riding this extremely exclusive train, filled with only the best and the brightest people her massive city had to offer. This social separation helped her feel important, somehow, making the ride to and from work the best part of her day.
Continuing to take a few more drinks from her large flask, a man's voice abruptly resonated, as if it was from the male lead of a classic romantic movie. Sitting alone in her comfortable booth, Mercy closed her eyes slowly, pressing her weary forehead against the cold window pane.
Without realizing what she was doing, Mercy began running her soft hand under her dress rerunning the memory of the man's sexy voice in her head, while her fingers slid smoothly towards her warm slit.
Too caught up in herself to notice, the man with the classically romantic voice sat down next to her. Feeling her seat sink as he sat down, she opened her eyes and was pleasantly surprised to see him, as if she'd somehow summoned him by fantasizing about him touching her.
Moving her fingers with more intensity, she caused them to dance around her pussy, concentrating hard to resist the temptation of allowing her body to buck out of control as she began enjoying herself more than she'd anticipated.
The man's hand carelessly drifted against her exposed knee, causing Mercy to instinctively jerk away, even though she secretly hoped it hadn't been an accident, wanting nothing more than for him to take her in his willing arms and place her on top of him so she could ride him like a wild bronco. The man, however, just continued ignoring her.
Opening his lid of freshly brewed coffee, the cup indicating he'd purchased it from the dining car, the aroma ran through Mercy's veins like a soothing drug. Discreetly watching over the man, she began wondering what he did for a living, not recognizing him as a politician or from the number of trade magazines she perused from time to time.
The man, continuing to act as if he was unaware of her caused Mercy to turn away from him completely, catching a reflection of her pretty face in the window. Her lips were bright red, her hair was freshly tousled.
If my hair was combed, Mercy began thinking, I'd probably be good enough for him to pay attention to me. If I looked together, he'd probably find me worth talking to, someone worth pursuing even.
What an asshole, Mercy continued thinking illogically. Mercy, buzzing off of good whiskey, felt insulted as if the man's actions were nothing more than an example of the man's absurd rules governing the world, desperately wanting to find a man who found her beautiful in every moment of every day regardless of how messy her hair looked.
This shit's so one sided, Mercy continued thinking, opening up the lid of her flask, sending a number of gulps directly down, without any concern of the man's judgment sitting next to her.
Mercy wanted a new life, she continued realizing. My curves and my beauty, coupled with my brain, are far too much of a goddamn rare commodity in this screwed up backwards world, Mercy began mentally ranting. I should be able to have everything I want, whenever the hell I want it, she continued thinking, intentionally pulling her dress down to expose the top of her breasts a great deal more.
Closing the lid of her flask, she went back to touching herself, ignoring the man sitting next to her, despite slowly moving her other hand towards his leg until it was only a centimeter from him. I should run my finger nails up his leg, Mercy thought, he'd be all over me then I bet. I should run them straight up his crotch and wrap them around his man parts, forcing every drop of his blood rushing towards it.
Tilting her head down, she gazed at the sheer array of colors painting her dress. The beauty of it turned her on even more, and her fingers began gently whisking against her pink pussy lips.
The excitement of the moment, however, sent shivers of electricity up and down her spine, energizing her fingers like never before. At only twenty-six years old, Mercy usually felt decades older with the sheer amount of responsibility her professional life burdened her with, but as she began pressing the tip of her middle finger into her pink hole, she finally felt her age again.
With her free hand still resting next to the gentleman's leg, his perverted eye's burning a hole in her chest, she could tell how bad he wanted to pluck her nipples with his firm fingers. She knew how desperate he was to play with her breasts, his arousal beginning to show in the bulge growing in his pants.
As Mercy continued subtly watching the man's facial expression grow more and more intense, she could tell he wanted to throw his face under her colorful dress and cup her pussy in his mouth.
Mercy continued circling her sensitive clit with the tips of her two fingers, but as the excitement grew she pushed them both into her moist pink hole and couldn't stop herself from letting out an airy sigh of satisfaction, loud enough that the man sitting next to her was sure to recognize what she was so excited about.
Mercy was aware that her light outburst probably wasn't heard by anyone other than the man sitting next to her, but she was sure the man sitting next to her heard it as he proudly smiled with great joy at his discovery.
In response, Mercy moved her free hand intentionally across the top of the man's thigh, skipping her fingers to his crotch as she softly squeezed his stiff penis as if she was giving it a handshake. Feeling his balls throb against her finger tips, she pushed her two fingers back into her insatiable pink pussy, as deep as they'd go.
“That's it bitch,” the man's silky voice quietly let out, before releasing a moan as Mercy squeezed his dick hard before quickly recoiling it, causing the man to pop up on to his feet like a rocket, as his steaming coffee splashed down across his blood filled genitals, while the cup crashed down atop his expensive shoes.
“Serves you right, pervert!” Mercy shouted. “Now don't try touching me again, asshole!” Mercy yelled even louder, angry at the man for calling her a 'bitch' so brazenly, finding enough satisfaction in his coffee covered cock to smile with joy, while commanding him to “find another seat,” ordering him around like a new employee back in her office.
His crotch was soaking wet. As he walked back into the aisle, his hard erect penis was visible through his thin dress pants to every onlooker, his manliness falling under the scrutiny of every judging eye, all of which convicting him of being guilty as a sexual predator before he exited the train car in dishonor.
“Wasn't that Michael T. Cone?” A woman's voice piped up.
“Who?” a man's voice asked.
“You know, the property tycoon,” the woman answered.
“Yeah it was!” a different person said, amidst a large number of people grunting and making noises people make when they disapprove of something.
“Well, I don't give a shit how much property that asshole owns,” a man stood up, “he doesn't own people!” The handsome man, stoically stood while shaking his head in disbelief, and with his strong chin directed towards her, his stony eyes filled with concern made contact with hers where he lipped her a question through his crooked grin, “are you okay?”
