Public Indecency

It was a long Saturday. And by that I meant I had work.

But I encountered something I would have never expected.

As I steadily grabbed a handrail inside the MRT, my mind drifted towards the metropolitan view. I was looking, staring outside the train's window. The cityscape still makes me awe at the wonders of men and their engineering prowess.


And then he came inside the coach where I was while the train was waiting for passengers going south bound.


I was still looking outside, still awed by the beauty that of the lights, the buildings, the view, the works while he, on the other hand, was looking at me across the glass.

Obviously he was near me, inches away, his scent I even recognized. Manly. Greedy. Hungry.



I went on with my life nonchalantly. He was still looking across the window, he looked across as if he just saw me, his arch-nemesis. Fury. Angry. Enraged.

And then when most people alighted off the train he did one thing that surprised me.


He pressed his crotch against my pants. Throbbing. Pulsating. Wanting.

I still acted the same, like nothing happened. But that wouldn't be fun.


And so I pressed myself closer to him.



His fury was replaced by a satisfying smile. And he got off at Shaw Blvd.