The metro car is a symphony of squeaks and clicks, but all the commuter hears is the pulse pounding in his ears. The woman's pantyhosed legs, a tantalizing blue, draw his gaze like a moth to a flame. She leans in, her breath hot on his ear, "You like what you see?" Her voice is a sultry purr, and he nods, unable to speak. She grinds against him, the friction of her pantyhosed legs against his thigh sending electric shocks through his body. He's a captive audience, entranced by her stocking-clad dance, his mind racing with possibilities.