Long Read: Train Station

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She was instinctively drawn to the spontaneity of her desires and very much  a stranger to the notion of conformity. Propelled by the longing for a mid-afternoon adventure, she threw on her favorite leather jacket, wrapped her silk scarf around her neck, and found herself skipping down the stairs to the nearest train station. After spending the morning within the midst of Jung and Freud she desperately needed a Yuengling.

The Black Keys echoed in her earphones as she met her stride on the cool concrete. Her insatiable avidity to discover, to travel, left marks upon the same pathway many times before. It was a cool November afternoon and the brisk air pierced her porcelain cheeks. Her thick black hair fell upon her shoulders twisted in loose braid. Those who passed her on her journey often stopped to stare, smiling politely revealing their appreciation.

He had seen her leave her apartment around the same time every afternoon. The gravitation to meet her drove him to follow her. He could not explain his overflowing eagerness to wrap his hands within her hair, to taste the sweetness of her skin. He was not threatened by her beauty, but drawn to it as if he was destined to toss her upon a wall, to make love to her.

Her high heels struck the concrete with force. She was a tantalizing creature, refreshingly aware of her sexuality. He quickened his pace, throwing aside his cigarette. A thick cloud of smoke left his mouth, filtrating the air with the aroma of tobacco. He assessed that the station was about another block away and searched his pockets for a handful of quarters. Unsure of the impending destination, he had decided to pull a few more from the jar on his counter.

“Just one”, she said. Her voice, my god, could serenade a cobra. The accentuation of her words set him into a frenzy, wildly amiss a fantasy. He imagined her cries of pleasure resonating within his ears, the warmth of her breath upon his neck. “Just one for me too”, he managed to summon. At the sound of his voice, she turned around, smiled, and headed for the train.

She opted for a window seat, a row after the emergency exit. She sat elegantly crossing her legs, fetching a pair of black rimmed glasses and a copy of Baudelaire from her bag. Again, she met his gaze. He appeared to be in his late twenties. Thin lines around his hazel eyes revealed experience, perhaps a certain ounce of pain. He was undeniably attractive, strong, masculine.

Little distance separated the strangers; a mere three feet and a candy wrapper, if technicality was to be considered. Yet, neither of them spoke. For the duration of her trip however, she periodically met his eyes exchanging silent subtleties. He was captivating and she found herself tempted to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him.

Bright lights signaled her stop. Normally, she would gather her book and leave, but her thirst for the stranger before her, prompted her to grab his hand. She signaled him to follow her.  He obliged, anticipation burning throughout his veins. Within moments, she reared the corner of the station and led him to the Hilton. A crisp hundred dollar bill fell from her wallet on the receptionist’s desk. “One bed will be fine,” she whispered as she smoothed the falling pieces of her hair from her delicate face. “Here you go miss, have a nice stay.”

His palms were sweaty, and he could feel his heart beating faster and faster as she led him to the elevator. Once the doors closed he lost control. His hands moved fervently, pulling her against him, his tongue meeting hers. She sighed heavily, meeting his fervor; intoxicated by his forwardness. Ding. 

They landed upon the Fifth Floor, Room 222. Struggling to maintain her composure, she slid the key revealing a welcoming green light. The sense of urgency prevailed as they walked through the door. In one swift motion he had her long legs wrapped around him, and her back to the wall.

-KristinaC