A Subway Named Seduction Read online

  A Subway Named Seduction

  By Toni Mozzie

  This book contains descriptions of explicit sex. All characters in this book are 18+

  A Subway Named Seduction

  Copyright: 2017 Toni Mozzie

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  For mature audiences only 18+.

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  Chapter One

  The train was dead in its tracks.

  Chloe glanced down at her phone. 1:34. If the train didn’t get moving soon, she was going to be late for her job interview at two.

  Fuck, she mouthed.

  Looking up from her phone, her eyes roamed the train. She was new to the city, so she didn’t know if this was a regular thing or if something was wrong. Some commuters fidgeted, glancing at phones, others were slouched in defeat, staying busy reading or staring blankly at the floor or at their reflections in the blackened windows.

  Except one.

  Opposite her, a few seats down, sat a man in a stylish suit gazing at her. She might have called it staring if it weren’t for his handsome yet sympathetic smile.

  He had dirty blond hair, graying slightly above the ears. He had a strong dimple-cleft chin, solid cheekbones and broad shoulders and his arms ached to burst through the seams of his dark blue suit jacket. His suit looked like it could pay her rent, if she were paying any. She wondered why he was on the subway. He looked wealthy enough to have a car. Maybe he took the subway to reduce his carbon footprint? For some ridiculous reason this made her feel warm inside like that first drink sending a tingle through her tummy. Someone who cares about others more than his own comforts. If she had a car, she’d be damn well driving it now and not stuck on this train to nowhere.

  She looked down at her phone: 1:35.

  The intercom crackled alive, and Chloe pulled an earbud out to listen. The voice was painful to listen to, and she couldn’t make anything out. What’s the guy doing? she thought. Sounds like he’s sucking a dick on the microphone.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and exhaled. She didn’t need to be thinking about dick right now. She needed to be thinking about the interview, but nothing was going right for her these days. And when things weren’t going right, her thoughts turned to guys. It’d been a while. She missed that thrilling high she experienced the moment a man’s cock got hard over her, and the control she knew she had over him.

  However, Chloe had other things to think about. She was now two weeks in the big city and still couldn’t find a job. If she stayed much longer with her best friend’s brother, Rick, she sensed she was going to have to put out, not because she owed him but because he was cornering her into a relationship she didn’t need right now. She wanted to be single in the city.

  She hoped she could hold him off with a little more flirting before that binding first hand job, a sort of horny handshake between tentative lovers. It might buy her a week before escalating to the blow job stage, which she knew Rick would take as a verbal agreement of a blooming relationship.

  Not that she would mind fucking him. Her friend’s brother was hot, young, and built. Once when he was coming out of the shower she got a peek at his long dangling plump uncut cock, making her wet instantly. Her mouth watered, and she swallowed, fantasizing it wasn’t her saliva she was swallowing. She wanted him, but she didn’t want him to think she had to fuck him because she owed him. Sex would be on her terms. So, she needed to find a job and her own place. Then she would see how much she wanted Rick’s cock because honestly, at this point, that was all Rick was to her.

  She knew, though, that if she did fuck her roommate before she moved out, things would get weird. He was clingy and was already asking her tons of questions and dragging her around the city showing her the sights. If they got any closer, he would start expecting favors and making assumptions. Who knows how her best friend would react.

  As well, there was the little detail that Rick was an idiot when drunk. She caught him swaying in front of the mirror, babbling to his muscles, his ‘comrades’ as he called them. The guy knew he was hot and spent too much time in front of mirrors. Chloe could have easily ignored this if it meant a great lay she was already addicted to, but after seeing the dude arguing with his biceps, she knew she couldn’t fuck him with a straight face. She liked funny guys, good funny or bad funny, but no amount of laughing, no matter how hard, would ever make her cum.

  She didn’t like the way things were evolving. She was already doing his laundry. Of course, it was the least she could do, since she was sleeping on his sofa rent free. But it made her feel a little like a maid, or a kept woman, only without the kink, and if she did end up becoming his maid, she damn well better get laid for her troubles.

  No, she needed to get out of there. She needed to get her own place, even a dump was a start. She needed to prove to her parents that she was old enough, and more importantly smart enough to live on her own and show them she was right to wait a year before going to university.

  She needed this. A gal is only eighteen once, after all.

  But she needed a fucking job. Unfortunately, she didn’t have any experience. She’d thought that it wouldn’t have mattered in order to work in a coffee shop, but she was wrong.

  This interview had been promising though. It was for a cashier in a head shop, something Chloe knew a lot about. She’d had a pleasant conversation with the manager on the phone about water pipes and vaping. The pay was okay, but the networking opportunities were potentially endless, so she hoped working there would grow her social life how she’d wanted. She’d dressed semi-causal, wearing a white knee-length cotton skirt, a black, buttoned blouse and her converts. She was going for a casual professionalism. She’d had a good feeling today until the subway ground to halt.

  She looked down at her phone: 1:37.

  She still had three more stops and then a five-minute bus ride, which would drop her off right at the door to the head shop. She’d checked online and timed it perfectly, giving herself ten extra minutes for any unforeseen problems. It didn’t matter now. She had a feeling she was going to be late.

  She wished she’d had a magazine. She had distractions on her phone, but her anxiety wouldn’t let her concentrate. She needed something to semi-mindlessly flip, to take her mind off the waiting. Without Wi-Fi in the tunnel, she couldn’t go on any dating sites and swipe to while away the time.

  She stole a glance at the man in the suit opposite her. He glanced at her at the same moment, and their eyes locked. She smiled sisterly-like. They were, after all, in the same boat.

  Then she had an idea. Why not have a bit of fun to pass the time? Why not play with him, like a pussycat plays with a mouse, teasing it into thinking it might get away unscathed. What did it matter? This was a big city. She’d never see him again. Plus, there weren’t that many people on the subway, a few older people, a couple couples, so there wasn’t really anything else to do, and no one would notice.

  First, she studied his body, deliberating avoiding his eyes. She studied his chest and waist, before her eyes briefly passed over his crotch and continuing down his legs to his shoes. He wore
nice shoes. They looked new.

  She knew he was watching her. His body slid a little down in his seat and his legs widened a little when her eyes fell on his crotch.

  She had his full attention, and it was making her wet.

  She’d been sitting with her knees together. She shifted, lifting her right leg, closest to the man, and crossed it over her left as naturally as possible and then leaned a little to her left, revealing more bare thigh.

  She eyed his crotch for a reaction; she sensed he knew where she was looking. His legs stretched and widened a little more. It didn’t look intentional, but instinctive, which made her pulse race. Because his dress pants were a slim fit, she could make out the contours of a budding bulge.

  She was surprised by how wet she was. It had been a while since her last lay, but there was something else. This man must have been in his forties. The oldest guy she’d ever fucked was barely twenty. Young guys have all kinds of notions when it comes to sex. Some have a cheesy romantic notion and others have the dirty hardcore porn notion. But none of them ever had any notion of what she needed and craved. This man looked like he knew, like a doctor who just made a diagnosis knows. She could see it in his posture, on his face, in his smile, in his eyes.

  Chapter Two

  With her legs crossed, Chloe rubbed her knee, nudging her skirt up her lap an inch, revealing soft smooth skin. She glanced furtively around the train. No one was paying her any attention except her man opposite, so she turned her attention back to him. She still didn’t look him in the eye, but instead let her eyes fall on his chest, but she still noticed the moment his head turned away. He’d probably had experience with young cock teases.

  It was time to up the ante.

  Chloe lifted a leg, edging her skirt further up. With her right hand, she nonchalantly flattened the skirt over her lap, raising it more. He must have sensed her moving and glanced toward her. This was her cue. She uncrossed her legs, giving him full view of her damp pink panties, before crossing the other leg. She dared not look at him, though. It didn’t really need to get weirder than it was. Just a little play.

  After a few seconds she casually glanced his way. His eyes were on her, his smile playful, teasing. He adjusted himself in his seat, his legs spreading enough to reveal the bulge in the crotch of his suit pants.

  Chloe licked her lips and turned to the window with a smile on her face.

  When she next glanced at him, he was on his phone, but looked up at her immediately. He smiled feebly, as if he were apologizing, like this delay was his fault.

  She smiled, batting her eyelashes before looking down at her phone: 1:40. Frustration was once more building inside her.

  She wondered if the man would’ve come over to her if they were the only ones on the train. What might he do then?

  Another glance his way, saw him looking down at his phone, texting away, and as if instinctively aware she was looking at him, his legs spread a little to get more comfortable. Was it because this was going to be a long wait, or was it because he wanted her focused on his swelling crotch?

  There was no harm in looking, so she looked, and even though the subway car was air conditioned, she felt a bead of sweat crawl down her back. She arched her neck, her chest coming forward. She stroked her arm. Touching skin, hers included, calmed her.

  Another garbled announcement. Something about a police investigation.

  Chloe put the earbud back in her ear. She glanced at the man, but this time he did not look her way, engrossed in his phone.

  She wondered: What would it be like to fuck this guy? To feel his confidence, his skill and strength, his tempered and focused passion: a desire to please.

  The train jerked alive. Chloe glanced at her phone: 1:42. She had twenty minutes. Well, almost, but a minute wouldn’t matter.

  The train crawled into the next station. Two more stations to go. Just get me two more fucking stations, she thought.

  Then a voice came over the intercom, clear and painfully loud: Attention passengers, this train is now out of service. Service on this line has been suspended. Shuttle buses are now operating. We are sorry for the inconvenience.

  The doors chimed open, and everyone rushed out, converging chaotically at the foot of the staircase leading to street level.

  Once again, this train is out of service. Shuttle buses are waiting at street level to take you the rest of your journey. We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused.

  Chloe took a deep breath and got up from her seat. She looked at her phone. 1:44.

  How the fuck did it get to 1:44 so quickly?

  She looked over at the man she’d flirted with. He was gone.

  Chapter Three

  1:48

  Chloe jostled for position on the sidewalk. The line up was long, and there weren’t any buses to haul bodies away yet, and no one from transit was directing traffic or answering questions.

  It was chaos.

  And it was official: she was late. The question now was: by how much? Her father had told her often that if a person is late more than fifteen minutes, they aren’t worth waiting for. Could she make it before 2:15?

  She started going over her excuse. It was a good one, but she understood how it’d look to a boss—being late for an interview. Even if she did get there by 2:15, she assumed she wouldn’t get the job. She wouldn’t hire her.

  She would have taken a cab, but she only had ten dollars in her purse, and she wasn’t sure if it would be enough even to get her to her bus connection.

  “Looks like you’re in a hurry to be somewhere.”

  She turned around. It was the man in the blue suit from the train. He was much taller than she’d expected. Sitting hid his height. She wasn’t so sure he was in his forties either; his skin was smooth and fresh. He smelled like a musky, sweet coconut. His voice was a soothing deepness.

  She stared at him. Her heart sped up, and to her annoyance, she felt her cheeks blush crimson. He was the complete package: he looked great, smelled great, sounded great, and probably felt great. She wanted to taste him.

  “I noticed you on the train, checking your phone every three seconds. I take it you’re late?”

  “What do you think?” she muttered, regretting how angry she sounded. The thought that she might be pouting, horrified her. She didn’t want to come off as childish.

  “So, where are you headed? Maybe we can share a cab part of the way?”

  “I only have ten dollars on me, and I don’t have time to go in search of an ATM machine.” She had no money in her account anyway.

  “What time is your appointment or whatever?”

  Chloe stared into his soft blue eyes filled with concern. She softened. “I have to be at Ellington and Bayview at two.”

  The man looked at his watch and whistled. “Yeah, shit, it’s ten to. You’re going to be late, love. I guess the question now is: By how much?”

  Chloe smiled. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

  “Well, I have to be somewhere, too, so why don’t you hop in my cab? I can take you at least to Ellington.”

  Chloe smiled playfully. “Would you mind?”

  “Hell no.”

  The man stepped to the curb past the people lined up for a bus and hailed a taxi. The taxis, like vultures, could sniff out a public transit collapse in minutes. It was still early in the subway suspension, and because everyone was still willing to wait another couple minutes for the buses, the man had no trouble getting a cab.

  She checked her phone: 1:50. If this taxi got her to Ellington in the next five minutes, and if a bus was waiting, she might make it—or not. She sighed. She was not very good at bullshitting herself.

  The man opened the cab door and motioned for her to jump in.

  When they were both in the backseat the cab driver said, “Did you hear about what happened at Ellington?”

  “Whatever it was, the subway’s shut down,” the man said.

  “Yeah, because of a fire in the food c
ourt, next to the subway station, and smoke’s filled the station. Traffic is closed off to the area, so I’m going to have to turn right or left to bypass it.”

  “Can you go up Bayview? This young lady needs to get to Ellington and Bayview.”

  “I don’t have to go as east as that, but if you want.”

  The man turned to Chloe and gently licked his lips and smiled. “There you are, see how it works out.”

  She sighed relief. “I got lucky. Thanks, I owe you one.”

  Chloe looked at his hands. They were strong but young. She wondered if he wasn’t closer to her age. If so, maybe there was a chance with this guy.

  Yeah, right.

  Here she was in a dress shirt and cotton skirt. Her nails painted black, her wrists covered in beads and bracelets. She looked like some hippy teen in red high-top Convert sneakers. And there he was: a professional, who had his shit together. He was probably married, but there were no rings on his fingers. He looked like the kind of man who attracted a hot, independent, and fierce woman. What did she have going for her except perky virginal breasts? Nevertheless, she owed him something for the kindness, at least that’s what she wanted to think, but she knew she didn’t owe him anything. She didn’t have the feeling that he was helping her for any reason other than helping. Maybe she reminded him of a daughter he had.

  But she wanted to owe him, and she wanted him to want something from her.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Chloe. Yours?”

  “Michael.”

  “Uh-oh,” the cab driver muttered. “Looks like traffic’s backing up. Everyone’s going right or left.”

  Chloe instinctively looked at her phone: 1:52.

  “Hey, look,” Michael said. “You’re going to be late, so you might as well enjoy the ride. Is it important?”

  “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “A hot date?”