"Alex," was all I managed to say, and I’m sure I barely whispered it. I couldn't look away from him, and God, I knew an uncontrollable surge of wetness coursed from my wanting pussy as the doors of the subway car closed and the train accelerated again.

"Well, Alex," he said, "I think I owe you, and I hate to be in anyone’s debt." He leaned in close and guided me toward the rear of the car and rows of empty seats. I watched as his gaze lingered on me a beat too long. Those gorgeous pool-colored eyes slowly traced the curve of my neck, and I tried to figure out what he was seeing. Then he pulled me to a seat, and I forced myself to coyly look away as if I needed an escape. But, fuck, I wanted more. I wanted my turn. My body burned as I followed him to a secluded corner seat in the very last row.

He sat down, and his fingers brushed against my thigh. I couldn't take my eyes off his face. I’d jerked him off and imagined who must be behind me, but now I tried to take in all the details, from his early evening whiskers to the pale skin running from his eyes to his ears, showing where he wore sunglasses. His eyes held mine, and I thought of those thumbs against my hips. I imagined him taking me from behind, gliding his entire length deep into my soaked pussy.

His hand moved slowly up my thigh, his fingers lightly grazing the fabric of my dress. My focus narrowed in on the heat between my legs—the wetness that seeped through my panties and made them damp. I felt exposed and vulnerable, but at the same time, I ached for more of his touch. Jackson's gaze never left my face. His eyes sparked with desire as he slowly moved his hand back down my leg.

He traced the curve of my knee and slowly moved back up my inner thigh inside the front of my dress. His fingers glanced against the edges of my lace panties underneath, and goddamn, I felt a surge of arousal that just made me open my legs wider.

Oh, his fingers were warm and skilled, applying just the right amount of pressure to create a delicious friction against my soaked panties. Each touch made me yearn for him to touch me even more.

"Are you wet for me?" he whispered, his voice a low growl. Fuck, I couldn’t speak, so I simply bit my lip and nodded.

His hand dipped lower and lower. I know I let out another moan as he slipped his fingers beneath the edge of my panties, teasing at the skin between my thighs. Finally! Finally, he slipped a single finger inside, and his touch ignited a fiery sensation. I sent my shoulders back and shifted my hips towards him as he moved his fingers up and down, gently spreading my sensitive lips.

He expertly teased and explored, from my clit to deep inside me. I stretched further as he added a second finger inside. I'm sure I whimpered. His fingers moved in and out, and the friction intensified with each stroke.

"You want me to make you come?" He whispered, his breath warm and sultry. Like he didn’t know.

“So fucking bad” was all I managed to exhale as every touch brought me closer to my edge.

His fingers continued to move inside me, and his thumb rubbed my clit with just the right teasing and pressure. I was so fucking close. He was like a master sculptor who shaped and molded my pussy with his skilled hands. His fingers moved with effortless grace and precision. I felt like I was his masterpiece, coming to life under his touch, and every movement of his thumb on my clit sent pleasure through my body.

Then he fucking nipped at my earlobe, hot breath streaming down my neck. "Come for me. Now," he whispered, “or just try and stop me if you don't want to cum all over my fingers, right here, right now, with everyone watching."

And with that, I fucking let go. For fuck’s sake, I’m not sure I’ve had an orgasm like that since I first figured out how to finger myself. I forced myself to not throw my head back as he pumped his fingers inside my hole, continuing wave after wave of sweet orgasm. I held my eyelids shut, and my eyes rolled back into my head as I came all over those wonderful fingers.

When he pulled his hand away from my panties, he brought it up to his mouth, licking off the last of my sweet arousal like he was devouring a dripping ice cream cone. Then, he smirked before leaning in for a kiss. An actual smirk, like "I've got you figured out." Our mouths met, lightly, until he covered my top lip with his and slipped his tongue between them. For the first time, I tasted myself; I'd never dared before. As I tasted my juices on his lips, it only increased the desire inside me.

I wanted to fuck him right there. But as my body calmed, the reality of it all became serious: we were in a public place, surrounded by people who could easily see us. You know me, dear diary. The thrill and excitement were quickly overcome by worry and fear.

"We shouldn't be doing this," I told him.

"We’re not. He said. “We already did. Don’t live in the past,” he replied with a shit-eating grin.

"I - I don’t do this," I told him.

He chuckled and placed the softest little kiss on my forehead. "Don't worry about it," he said. "Look around. As far as anyone else is concerned, you haven’t done anything."

I looked over the few people still traveling with us. Most were hunched over and they stared at their phones, absorbed in their own virtual worlds. There were no knowing glares or anyone paying attention. We were tucked away in the back corner, hidden from their eyes. They just disappeared into their phones, unaware of our presence.

As we pulled into my station, I rearranged my tangled panties and pulled my dress back, straightening it as if someone cared. As the train smoothly came to a stop, he reached his arm out for my hand. He pulled me down the aisle, out the door, and onto the brightly lit, but empty, platform. We stood there, facing each other, eyes attempting to pierce the others', and waiting for the other to say something. Anything.

"Oh, I like the adventure in you. It's," he paused and thought about it. "Refreshing," he finally continued. "Don’t let that disappear."

Now, how the hell do you respond to that? I stood there, blushing as my fingers fidgeted with the edge of my blouse and my heart thudded in my ears. I’m still shocked at all of that, but I was absolutely speechless then.

Then, get this: He reached into his pocket, pulled out a beautiful silver case, and removed a business card, handing it to me. A business card! "Call me," he said, his voice low and seductive. It felt so light, but important. I’m not sure I’ve received one before. Hell, do people still use them? What was I to do?  I simply smiled back at him and slipped it into my purse.

As I watched him, he turned and quickly crossed back onto the subway, just as the doors closed. I was left there with nothing but questions.

Who was he, really? Why had he pressed against me in such a perverted way? Why had I pressed back or reached around?

"Jackson Dempsey - Head Hunter - Talon Talent Acquisition," it says on the card, written in a beautiful calligraphy font. Maybe he can use that talent on me again.