Tickled on the E-Line

WARNING! IT IS ADULT ORIENTED MATERIAL OF A SEXUAL NATURE. If you are under 18 years of age or easily offended by such material, then click your browser's back button now. The copyright of this story remains with the author, Night Owl. This posting does not give you the rights to post this on any website. You must obtain the author's permission prior to posting.

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(Story Content: M/f, Tickling)

As Catrina slipped on her light green, sleeveless sweater, she couldn't help smiling at her reflection in the mirror. It was her favorite top, made of light wool with wide holes that made her arms look cute and sexy - perfect for hot summer days, but without showing off too much of herself. She put on her white capris next, and her tennis shoes, then checked her watch. It was already 10:30, so she needed to get moving. She quickly brushed through her long blonde hair, then pulled it back into a ponytail. As she did this, her eyes darted to each raised arm for a last-minute inspection. She had just shaved them in the shower, making her deep curves look as smooth as silk. With a final nod, she grabbed her shoulder bag and rushed out the door.

Catrina Anderson was looking forward to getting away from downtown Denver where she lived and worked. The location certainly had some advantages for her with its restaurants, shops and dance clubs. But this was an election year, and that week Denver was hosting the National Convention. From early in the morning to late at night, the streets around her loft apartment were packed with delegates, media people, tourists, and agitators. Street traffic around Denver was also a hassle, and it didn't take long for her to grow tired of whole mess.

So she needed a break, and decided to take the light rail train south of town to her favorite mall and do some shopping. With her bag gripped tightly around one shoulder, she made her way through the crowded streets to Union Station. It was already hot that day and forecasted to reach 95 degrees, but at least the covered platform offered some shade from the sun. Catrina purchased her ticket and waited by the tracks.

The Denver RTD Light Rail was a passenger train, powered by overhead electrical wires. It had a lighter frame and smaller body than most other trains, thus its name "light" rail. Because of their size and tighter turning radius, the trains had the ability to operate along crowded city streets and in urban corridors with frequent stops, where quick acceleration and deceleration were necessary.

There were several rail lines that traveled along the central corridor adjacent to Interstate 25. The train Catrina wanted was the E-Line, which traveled the entire length, about 25 miles, from Union Station south to the Park Meadows Mall with no transfers. The trains along that line ran every 15 minutes, but not surprisingly, all of them were packed tight with people wearing campagn buttons, funny hats, and carrying bags full of souvenirs. It would be standing room only, probably all the way to the mall.

When her train arrived, Catrina squeezed through the crowd until she found a spot to stand and hold onto one of the straps that hung from a bar above. The packed atmosphere made her feel a little self-conscious in her sleeveless top, so as she reached up high to grab the strap, she snuck another quick peek under her arm to check for stubble, then smiled inwardly when she saw it was ok.

While the train moved down the track, its cars rocking gently from side to side, she felt a tinge of arousal as she stood there with one naked arm raised. She never considered that part of her body in anyway sexual, yet displaying it so openly it to dozens of strangers, some a mere foot or two away, somehow betrayed a certain imaginative eroticism that she could enjoy privately to pass the time.

This feeling didn't last very long though. The E-Line was a popular route, so with each stop, more and more warm bodies crammed into their car, and no one seemed to be stepping off either. It was like being packed in a tin full of sardines. Even worse, the temperature felt at least 10 degrees hotter, and there was a foul smell of human sweat in the air. Catrina really had to push her consciousness and keep her mind busy on something else just to fight off the claustrophobia.

Then, about halfway to her stop, a strange thing occurred. She was suddenly jolted back to reality with a tickling sensation under her raised arm. Her first impulse was to let go of the strap and bring it down to protect herself, but then the feeling went away just as abruptly as it came.

Did somebody just tickle her?

She casually glanced around the car. Standing immediately to her right, a woman struggled to keep her balance while reading her book with one hand; on the left, a young couple was engaged in their own conversation, and in front, a portly man stood with his back to her. He was wearing a straw skimmer hat that said 'Vote for Change' on the headband. Nor he or anyone else seemed to take any notice in what just happened.

She tried to shrug off the strange feeling, but before she could engineer her other hand to casually rub away the itchy remnants of the first tickle, she felt another one right in the same spot! This time, she giggled and threw her arm down quickly, almost taking the 'book woman's' head off in the process.

"Sorry," she quickly apologized.

At first the woman gave her an irritated look, then said, "That's OK, hon," before going back to her book.

Catrina had always been extremely ticklish, especially under her arms, so much that some of her boyfriend couldn't resist thrusting his fingers under there and tickling the living daylights out of her just to hear that cute laugh. For some reason, he always seemed to get very hot and bothered when he saw her squirm and giggle like a little girl. She looked around again at the other passengers. Her reaction had drawn some curious glances, but she still couldn't tell who it was that had tickled her.

The train approached a sharp curve on the tracks, causing everyone standing to sway to one side and, reluctantly, Catrina stretched her arm up again for the strap.

"Maybe it was just my hair tickling me," she thought, though it was unlikely, since her long golden hair was tied back neatly into ponytail.

Less than a minute later, it happened again, only this time, it was that unmistakable feeling of several fingers brushing slowly against her open armpit. She burst into a rash of giggles and threw her arm down again. Most of the passengers standing nearby, including the book reader, tried to ignore the reaction. Only an elderly woman looked up from her seat nearby and stared at her. Catrina stared back and blushed.

"I-I think someone just tickled me," she tried to offer an explanation.

The old woman merely smiled politely without a word. She was wearing a hearing aid and probably didn't understand a word she said. Some of the other passengers did, however. A few smirked and looked away as if Catrina's comment were some kind of a joke. The fat man with the straw hat merely glanced over one shoulder while keeping his back to her.

The train kept rocking along the winding track, and Catrina debated as to whether she should move. At the next stop, she tried to do just that, but the passengers around her stayed where they were while even more people loaded into the car, so she was stuck, helplessly in the same spot.

She decided to use her other arm this time and reached with that hand to hold the strap. She was a little nervous and feeling very ticklish at the moment. She was also a little turned by what was happening to her, though she refused to admit it even in her deepest thoughts.

"If someone WAS tickling me, then maybe my comment scared him off," she tried to console herself.

A few minutes later, she was tickled under that arm too! This time she burst out into laughter so loud that everyone in the car heard it. She turned bright red as she put her other hand under her arm to wipe away the sensations. Now Catrina was frightened. She couldn't figure out who it was. She looked around again. The people behind her seemed just as shocked as everyone else; either that, or someone was putting on a pretty good act. Regardless, Catrina was too embarrassed to confront any of them, so she opted for silence.

She then tried to stay up on her own as the train rocked but it seemed impossible. All it would take was one sharp turn to send her crashing into the other passengers, and that would be truly embarrassing, so slowly, she raised her arm up to the bar. For several long excruciating minutes, nothing happened. Just the anticipation of it seemed worse than the tickling itself. Beads of perspiration popped on her forehead. She quickly wiped her brow with her free hand, then another quick glance over her armpit and she could see she was sweating under there too, and quite noticeably.

The train approached a section of track that both climbed and turned along a steep onramp to the interstate highway that ran along side of it. Now even one arm proved insufficient to keep her balance. Reluctantly, Catrina lifted the other and took hold of two straps as the train rocked savagely upward, and then down the winding track.

Before long, amid the rocking, she began to feel that teasing touch again, this time, on the back of her neck. Catrina turned her head quickly, drawing more curious stares from the people behind her,

"All right, knock it off," she finally told them. Her voice was shaken.

"Pardon me?" one man asked. Both if his hands were holding something to keep himself steady, as were everyone else's.

She turned around again without another word, her face burning. Just what in HELL was going on here? Did someone really touch her or was she losing her mind?

Catrina decided to bring both arms down. She didn't care if she fell on her face, she wanted to be able to defend herself if anyone touched her again. But when she tried to release the straps . . . nothing happened. She couldn't move her hands! In fact, she couldn't will her body to do anything! It was an odd feeling, to say the least, as if the physical part of her were under some spell, leaving her hopelessly paralyzed.

She was about to say something, when suddenly, the tickling started again, only now the invisible fingers were wiggling up UNDER her sweater top and touching her bare back. She burst out laughing again. Everyone turned and stared, even the fat man wearing the straw hat couldn't resist looking back to see what was happening. She heard the deaf, old woman in the seat mutter to herself as to how "rude" young people could be, "laughing at the elderly like that."

Whatever anger Catrina had left in her was now snuffed out completely. She was genuinely terrified. She bit down on her lower lip and squeezed her eyes shut, unable to do anything else. Her phantom attacker was making a bold move this time, a deliberate tickling of her upper body, and right against her flesh - her back, shoulders, stomach, around her bra -- she was excruciatingly ticklish all over, so it really didn't matter where they touched, it was enough to bring her into hysterics!

She laughed even louder and squirmed, then she felt something that made her gasp and hold her breath. It must have been a man and he must have been standing directly behind her because she felt the presence of a large erection against crease in her butt, pushing intrusively against her capris and panties. He was tickling her and rubbing up against her at the same time!

The people around her moved away as much as they could. Some tried their best to ignore what was happening, some stared in disbelief, uncertain as to what they should do.

Catrina didn't know what to do either. She couldn't move, she couldn't even speak through all the laughter. The fingers where now out of her sleeveless top and tickling a torturous path around and around the elastic armholes, occasionally stretching the material back to get to more skin. She cackled helplessly and could still do nothing but grip the straps high above even tighter as the feather-light touches settled right into those deep, smooth hollows under her arms.

That was her worst spot, and her attacker seemed to know this for he was tickling without restraint now, fingernails tormenting her vulnerable pits relentlessly with gentle, yet madly ticklish strokes. He was pressed up hard against her now from behind, and the rocking of the train only seemed to add to this man's sexual excitement as his erection grew harder and harder against her swaying body.

Through all her laughing and squirming, Catrina heard the moaning in her ear and felt the warm breath of a man overcome with arousal. She still hadn't seen her attacker though. Either he really WAS invisible or he had a clever way of hiding his fingers from her view.

And why wasn't anyone on the train stopping him?

They just stared and whispered amongst themselves as if there was something wrong with her. A man offered the woman with the book a portion of his seat so she wouldn't have to stand next to the crazy woman giggling hysterically.

The tickler didn't seem to care at all what the other passengers thought, and strangely, a part of her didn't seem to care either. All those times when her boyfriend tickled her, Catrina could hardly stand it, because it was like torture for someone as ticklish as she was. Now a complete stranger was doing this to her, a phantom with unseen hands that seemed to know exactly where to touch her, and how, rendering her completely helpless to fight them off.

She kept her eyes shut and squeezed the straps above her with a death grip. She began to feel the tickler's body rubbing up and down on her as his fingers roamed and fluttered over her body. She realized that he was getting off on the sounds of her tortured laughter and the ravaging of her smooth flesh. There was a faint moan from behind, followed by the little jerks and bumps of his male organ right up against her buttocks.

Then finally Catrina had enough. She managed to drum up all the strength and will she had left and screamed,

"S-Stop tickling me!"

The tickling stopped. Then magically, Catrina regained the use of her arms again and they dropped with such force that the bag around her shoulder slipped off and landed with a heavy thud at her feet.

She was out of breath by then from laughing so hard, and not surprisingly, her outbursts had drawn everyone's full and undivided attention, even a few people in the next car were trying to peer through the window to see what all the commotion was about. Then the train came to its next stop. The doors opened.

"H-he was tickling me," Catrina finally cried out to anyone that would listen and pointed behind her. "That man . . . didn't you see it?"

All eyes moved past her, and when Catrina finally spun around to face her attacker, there was no one there. A large group of passengers were exiting the train at the back. He must have disappeared into that crowd.

"I didn't see anyone," the woman with the book looked at Catrina as if she were crazy. Everyone else nodded their heads in agreement, some just stared blankly.

"But . . . but he WAS there."

"Easy, miss," the fat man tried to consol her. "This heat must be getting to you. Why don't you sit down here and relax?"

"It ain't the heat," some teenager blurted in. "The girl's trippin' on drugs. Just look at her eyes . . ."

"People like you shouldn't be allowed to ride this train," the deaf old woman screeched from her seat.

There were other comments, but Catrina didn't want to hear them. She picked up her bag and found an empty seat, her face still flushed red with embarrassment. She WAS attacked, but why didn't anyone want to admit it? Were they too ashamed because they didn't help? It didn't seem possible though. Not on a train full of over 50 people.

Maybe the fat man was right. Maybe it WAS the heat.

Most of the passengers turned back to their own business after Catrina sat down, but she could still hear rumblings and quiet laughter among some of the others. She looked silently out the window, and tried to ignore them. With a short jerk, the train began to move again. There were only a few more stops left on the E-Line before reaching her destination. She didn't care where the next one was though. She was going get off and soon as she could and wait for another, then try to forget the whole incident.

Suddenly, through the window, she saw a strange-looking man on the platform emerge from the crowd. He seemed to come out of nowhere, then looked right up at her . . . and smiled. Catrina felt her heart almost skip a beat. He was thin, very pale, almost sickly in appearance, yet his eyes were dark and powerful, and he had a wide, toothy grin. Then she noticed a little dark spot on the front of his jeans.

The other people on the platform didn't seem to give him much notice. A man carrying a briefcase passed right in front of him . . . no . . . he passed THROUGH him! Catrina blinked her eyes several times in disbelief. She really WAS going crazy!

The ghostly figure seemed amused by her reaction and laughed, then he raised one hand and wriggled his long fingers, as if to mimic the act of tickling someone. The train moved slowly along the platform until he was out of sight, but she still heard the faint sound of his voice shouting after her,

"I'll get you GOOD next time!"

Catrina shuddered.

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Author's Note: Catrina Anderson never took much interest in reading the daily newspapers. If she had, she might have recalled a tragic story printed on the back pages of the Rocky Mountain News, just a few days prior to her own experience described above. The Rocky reported that a local man, Thomas Boyd, had been struck and killed by a light rail train, apparently, as he stepped off a platform to cross the tracks. It wasn't the first time a grisly accident like this occurred along the RTD Light Rail, and it probably wouldn't be the last, but there was an interesting side note to this particular story.

Mr. Boyd, The Rocky learned, had a police record. It was nothing serious, but certainly worth mentioning. Three separate criminal complaints were filed against him, and all from women described as "young and attractive." Each victim claimed Mr. Boyd had sexually assaulted her in public. To be more specific, he tickled her. One of the incidents occurred in a crowded elevator, and the other two women, Catrina would have been interested to know, were attacked while riding the E-Line.

End