Here I was, in a public place, a strangers hand creeping up my leg, and all I could do was try to keep from hyperventilating. Back to my book again. T...e gentle swaying of the railroad car making it impossible to tell for certain if his hand was sliding ever so slightly upward. I looked down at his hand again, noticing that his little finger had disappeared beneath the hem of my skirt. I glanced up at his face. He was looking directly at me now. So much for subtlety, I thought. But I was. However, I'm not a super-stud jock either.This story occurs before I met my wife, while I was still dating. I was in my mid twenties, and a couple of days before, my roommate had gone off to the Bahamas for a long vacation. He had invited me, and I had wanted to go, but I didn't have enough vacation time accrued at work, and my boss told me that he needed me for a "particularly important project."This meant, of course, that I'd have the apartment to myself. This was usually a great time for me,. More

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