Candid Trample.pdf

In the bustling streets of Mumbai, Priya stepped out of her apartment building, ready to take on the day. The young Indian woman was a stunning beauty, with long dark hair, smoldering brown eyes, and curves that could make any man weak in the knees. She wore a tight-fitting blouse that hugged her ample bosom, and a short skirt that barely reached mid-thigh, leaving her caramel-colored legs on full display.

As Priya walked to the train station, the stares and appreciative glances of passersby were not lost on her. She knew she was a head-turner. When she boarded the crowded train car, the morning commuters barely had room to breathe - but their discomfort only seemed to grow more pronounced in Priya's presence.

Finding a small spot to stand near the doors, Priya hitched one leg up and braced a high-heeled mule against the railing. The strappy, open-toed sandal showcased her arched foot and dainty toes perfectly. Over the din of the train, Priya heard a few hushed whispers.

"Did you see that? What an ass on that one!"

"I'd love to get under that skirt, eh?"

"Face sitting would be the ultimate dream..."

Priya pretended not to hear the vulgar comments from the men crammed around her. She knew her provocative attire invited stares and fantasies. But it was her right to dress as she pleased, even if it made some men uncomfortable. The housewife next to her tsked disapprovingly, no doubt judgmental about Priya's racy outfit and the effect she was having.

At the next stop, more passengers squeezed their way into the already packed train. Priya found herself jostled on all sides, her skirt riding up dangerously high. She could feel the hot breath of the man behind her on the back of her neck. Another man in front of her openly ogled her chest.

Just then, the train lurched and Priya stumbled. "Catch her!" someone yelled as she pitched forward. Strong hands gripped her hips, steadying her. As Priya regained her balance, she realized her high-heeled shoe had come down on top of the man's hands between them. Her heavy foot ground down, crushing his fingers as she stood on top of his palms.

"Ow! Goddamn, you stupid bitch!" the man howled, trying to pull his throbbing hands out from under her shoe. But Priya didn't budge, instead pressing down harder, nearly piercing his skin with her stiletto heel.

"Apologize for groping me, you pervert," she said coolly. "And if you ever touch me again, I'll drive my heel right through your filthy hands."

The man paled and hastily muttered an apology. Priya finally released him and he cradled his aching hands to his chest. The other men around her looked cowed, not daring to meet her fierce glare.

With a final stop, Priya exited the train, her hips swaying provocatively as she made her way to the exit. She was used to the crude comments and fantasizing gazes. But she would never be the subservient, timid Indian woman they expected. This was her city, and she would fight for the right to be sexy and powerful. One stiletto heel at a time.