“The 10:50 Magnet Train for Saffron City will be departing shortly from Platform 2. This is the last call for passengers to board,” announced the speakers as I trotted my way to Platform 2. A thought about something called Murphy’s Law popped unbidden into my mind, whoever Murphy was. Still, nothing had gone right, I sulked: my plane had been late, the train had been announced on a different platform, and, worse, it had been overbooked.
I supposed the silver lining was my sudden upgrade to first class for the journey, although, now that I was stepping inside the train, I felt guilty and out of place, as though I were thieving or trespassing. I took a steadying breath, my heart still racing from the rush, and slowly made my way along the rows of seats to find mine. 11C. There it was, right next to…
My eyes lingered for a moment on the sleeping girl seated by the window. I felt my heart skip a beat, the way it usually did when I had to talk to a stranger… or not exactly; this one felt different. She was absolutely beautiful, her soft, sleeping face peeking out from between two strands of her long platinum hair as her head rested against the window.
She wore a dark red knitted pullover over a form-fitting black shirt, and a black pleated skirt rested on her thighs, which were covered in a thin pair of leggings. I gulped. I couldn’t exactly call myself a fashion diva by any stretch of the imagination, but the quality of her clothes and the discreet brand logos I could make out suggested she belonged in first class, unlike me.
I glanced around, spotting a few empty seats I could have sat in, then read the ticket in my hand again: 11C. Seating was assigned, so I couldn’t take another seat, I assumed; I certainly didn’t want to get into trouble with the conductor when I was already sitting in first class when I shouldn’t be. I frowned slightly, looking around again nervously. I… I didn’t know what to do.
I looked at the girl again. She had removed her shoes and propped her socked feet beside her, likely before falling asleep, leaving them occupying a portion of my seat. Should I… wake her? It would mean I’d have to talk and apologise. Maybe she’d even resent me for it. That would make the rest of the journey awkward. B-but I c-couldn’t just touch her and push her aside, I realised, my cheeks flushing at the thought of touching her, for some reason.
Another passenger approached, waiting for me to sit down so he could get past me and reach his own seat further down the carriage. Under his expectant gaze, which I refused to meet, I finally decided to simply take my seat. I apologised internally and sat down, making sure not to touch the girl, though that proved difficult. I wasn’t exactly big—petite was how I’d been described before—but even so, I couldn’t fit without making contact.
I sat down, feeling my right thigh press lightly against her feet. Once seated, I remained frozen, holding my breath, head bowed, eyes flicking sideways as I tried to work out whether I had disturbed my seat neighbour. Thankfully, she hadn’t moved a hair. I exhaled nervously and tried to reassure myself that I’d done nothing wrong. I’d simply taken my assigned seat.
A few moments and an announcement later, the train lurched ever so slightly forwards and began to pull out of the station. Throughout it all, I remained motionless, my eyes cast down at my hands, which were fidgeting nervously in my lap, acutely aware of the gentle pressure of the girl’s feet against my thigh. They felt warm, ever so slightly damp, against my bare skin.
Wearing a light summer dress and socks that reached just below my knees, I had nothing between us to provide a barrier, save for her socks, which, for reasons I couldn’t quite put my finger on, kept drawing my eyes. I shifted my gaze from my fidgeting hands to her feet and back again several times, feeling awkward all the while.
Her feet were clad in thin white ankle socks that left her ankles exposed, revealing just a few inches of soft skin and faintly visible veins between the white cotton edges and the black leggings she wore. Her ankles were slender, and the tendons in her feet stood out against the protruding bones on either side. They looked fragile, and yet her calves were toned, suggesting she was rather athletic.
My strange musings and fascination were cut short when I suddenly heard her moan softly in her sleep. My eyes instinctively snapped to her face, afraid she’d woken up and I’d have to… speak, explain myself, or something. Thankfully, she was still asleep and had merely readjusted herself, although I was beginning to wonder whether I should be thankful for that.
The girl shifted, propping her back against the side of the carriage and resting her head against the back of her seat. As she moved, she raised her knees, her feet following, and placed them flat on my left thigh, leaving me thoroughly flustered and in an awkward position, with nowhere to put my hands.
It took me the best part of several minutes to accept that keeping my hands hovering in mid-air wasn’t going to work for the entire journey. My twig-like arms were already beginning to ache from the exertion, and I was panicking internally, my eyes darting nervously all over the place in search of a solution that never presented itself. With one final, resigned breath and more courage than I’d thought myself capable of, I simply lowered my hands onto her feet.
I could feel my ears burning as I looked down at my hands. Beneath the thin cotton fabric separating my fingertips from her skin, I could feel every shape, every tendon, every vein. Before I knew it, my fingers were moving up and down her feet in feather-light touches, as though I were studying a precious artefact. I didn’t even fully realise what I was doing, my mind lost in thoughts of the awkwardness and embarrassment that would follow if she woke up now.
Another moan nearly made me jump out of my skin a little while later, bringing me back to my senses. I looked at the girl’s face, utterly terrified, only to find her delicate features still resting peacefully. I couldn’t shake the impression that this moan had sounded… different from the first. Still, I had little time to ponder it before she turned again, though not quite as drastically this time. She pivoted slightly to her right, moving her head away from the back of her seat until it was half-propped, half-hanging over the other side. Her knees shifted slightly, too, rotating her feet so that her heels faced me and her toes pointed outwards.
It seemed natural enough, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d caught a fleeting smirk on her beautiful face as I felt her feet slide up my thigh in search of a more comfortable position. I froze, tensing as the heel of her left foot pushed up the hem of my dress and crept further and further up until it rested a mere breath away from my panties, her toes finding purchase by pressing into my thigh.
My mind went into full-blown panic mode. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t wake her now; how would I explain having let things go this far? And what about… Oh, Arceus, anyone walking past would see my thighs… m-my p-panties, with the hem of my dress caught beneath her feet.
And yet, throughout all this, I could feel a distinct heat, a sort of tingling, building up within my core. I felt embarrassed. I didn’t quite understand it yet. I’d only experienced it a few times before, often when faced with the beautiful girls who had bullied me at school, but I didn’t know what it meant. W-was it because of her feet? I chewed on that thought, or at least I tried to. But that didn’t seem right. I… I didn’t dislike the girl’s feet, but I didn’t particularly care for them, either. I just… I felt… worthless. As though I were nothing more than a makeshift footstool for this precious girl…
That last thought made my core clench involuntarily, intensifying the tingling sensation ever so slightly.
I didn’t know how long I’d been lost in my thoughts when the conductor’s request for my ticket brought me back to reality. I panicked, grabbing my bag and fumbling around inside it for what must have been minutes before I finally found and pulled out my ticket. I handed it to him with both hands, bowing my head slightly and apologising profusely. The man punched my ticket before handing it back, raising nothing more than an eyebrow, then moved on with a polite nod and a “Have a pleasant journey, ladies.”
Ladies? Ladies! Oh no.
I slowly turned my head, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, terrified of what awaited me.
Oh no, had he seen my panties? I glanced down to find the hem of my dress back at an acceptable level, though still riding rather high, as the girl’s feet were… Oh, she’d repositioned herself, sitting more upright, her sharp, deep green eyes now open and fixed on me, her face unreadable. Yet her feet remained on my lap.
I-I didn’t know what to make of it, or what to say. I opened and closed my mouth, but no sound escaped my throat. And all the while, she watched me squirm like a helpless Pichu under a predator’s gaze.