It was a Saturday.
The train station was so packed with civilians. Old men touting newspapers, bespectacled boys glued to their Gameboys, old women chatting in a bunch down a corner – and the train slowly pressed forward in its tracks. Orihime held tightly to the bar above her head. She was standing somewhere at the rear of the carriage. Very much hidden from view actually. Just the way she liked it. Just the way she wanted it.
She squirmed a bit.
Her legs parted somewhat more as some stranger's fingers glided along her cunt. She could hear his doggish breathing from behind. It smelled a bit acerbic, really. He pressed himself into her back and she cringed. Disgusting, she thought. As her growing clitoris bulged into the restrain of her panty, she rested her forehead on the wall and sighed.
"Hey, hey, sweet 'un. We're only about to have some fun, eh?"
The pads of his fore and middle fingers circled around her nub and she shook. She squirmed a bit more. He probably thought she was enjoying all this.
"Pervert," Orihime hissed.
"Hmm? You say something?"
He pulled her panty up. Her clitoris rubbed against the material; wetness seeped through.
"Yes, good isn't it?"
The man fondled her privates in some lusty, deliberate rhythm that Orihime discerned as… well, she'll be damned if she could put her finger on it. Oh, excuse the pun, and this is not a good time to be funny, she said to herself. But God help her, it was the strange, undefinable sensation of… rushed pleasure. Rushed pleasure… could that be the word? Her eyes glanced up the map and the terminal was only a couple of minutes more. The number of times she had been on this ride, she could remember a number of landmarks outside the window. See the red-walled district post office there? Five minutes, yes, five minutes more before this hell of a ride would reel to a stop. Rushed pleasure it is then. The dickhead would have wanted to have her all moaning on four before the ride ended. Rushed pleasure did not feel good though.
"Come on, babe… let me see you come…"
Both hands are digging between her thighs. Her sensitive button had been rubbed, pinched, massaged and his other hand was prodding at her entrance. Orihime panicked as his fingernail scratched her unguarded opening.
She bucked her hips and muttered, "Stop that!"
He pulled her panty apart and sank his left hand into her crotch. Quickly he caught her clitoris and abused it with vigour.
"So wet here, baby. How about you come for me here, hmm?"
Her southward muscles twitched and squeezed around the intruding fingers. Her whole mind was zeroing down to her juices spread onto her labia and clit, and massaged on by perverted fingers. A pressure was building in the base of her womb. Her breathing came out as gasps. She clutched at the bar above her head tighter.
He grabbed at her right breast and squeezed. Orihime buckled; the pressure came in waves and she clenched her jaws to keep herself quiet. The incessant fingers kept on at her clit in meticulous circles, prolonging her pleasure. He shushed softly into her ears as his eyes shuttled around their vicinity. Orihime heard nothing, struggling instead against his firm hold as the last of her waves was let off.
The train had screeched to a halt, so it seemed.
He hastily lowered Orihime to a nearby empty seat. She peered out of her orange bangs, amused nevertheless. Most men would have left her as soon as the door opened.
"Well Miss, what a ride, eh?"
He nodded and took off.
Orihime straightened her black mid-thigh length skirt and somewhat ruffled baby blue office blouse. She sighed at the slick coating at her crotch. What a ride, indeed.
Dazed, she too left the train from where that man exited, only to have her elbow grabbed roughly and her person pulled away from the crowd.
She huffed, "Hey! Do you mind?"
Unkempt blue hair dropped to her eye level. This man's face was no more than an inch away from hers, but Orihime stared icily into the equally hardened blue eyes.
"It's going to spiral out of control."
She yanked her hand free from him and trotted off the other direction. "I can walk myself back to the company."
"You stink of co–"
"Keep your opinion to yourself!"
Then her stiletto got caught in a crack between the tiles and she stumbled. Catching herself, she flicked her flowing, orange mane and resumed her brisk walking pace. But he caught something that sounded like "jerk" before she disappeared down the escalator.
Inoue Orihime had always been a character.