Non-Fiction: Train - Sex Stories

Non-Fiction: Train

... behavior. Trust, that day on the train, consistency of character wasn’t lost. After twenty minutes of listening to riders moan and bitch, the train finally arrived. It would’ve been too much like right for the doors to open before me; instead, I found myself mid-car standing in front of a window. So, I held tight to my shoulder bag and pushed my way inside. I was one of the last riders to make it onto the car. It was a squeeze when the doors shut. At that moment, I resented my impatience. Backs and sides of bodies surrounded us; it was standing room only. The crowd smashed us body-to-body. He had me wedged between a plexiglass divider and his antagonist. Without my knowing his name or his destination, he took liberties to press into my sex. “Sorry about this. I would move if I could, but there’s no where for me to go,” was the extent of his spearmint-scented apology. “Since we’re in each other’s personal space, may I ask your name?” “Cinnamon,” I lied as I shoved a peppermint Tic Tac in my mouth. “Not your stripper name, silly, your government name, ” he chuckled and inquired. He had a gorgeous smile that looked as if he spent plenty on orthodontia. His teeth matched the white of his pocket square. He seemed cocky, so I had to check him. “That’s funny?” I lifted my right eyebrow. “I thought so,” he confessed with a flushed face. “Far from.” “No sense of humor...okay. My apologies, Cinnamon.” “What’s your name? No, wait. Don’t tell me. I really don’t want to know,” another ...

... lie. “I’ve seen you before.” “Yes, I’ve seen you too.” “You are a beautiful woman.” “Do you know why the trains were delayed?” This was my effort to change the subject. The combination of his proximity and his compliment was slightly awkward. “I heard there was some sort of electrical problem. You are stunning.” One whiff of his pheromone inducing fragrance had my blush burning. He was fine – hella good-looking. He stood a half of a head above my five foot eight inch frame with dark tanned skin, grey eyes, and brown hair. Although we’d exchanged smiles and a few nods on previous train trips, we never formally introduced ourselves, nor did we swap shoptalk. Our chatter on that day narrowed the communication chasm...somewhat. My resentment relaxed...somewhat. “Thanks,” I nodded and smiled. “I’m glad Metro got the issue resolved.” The doors closed, and the train accelerated. Not more than three minutes later, there was a loud boom and complete darkness. The wheel clacking came to an abrupt, squealing halt. “Aw,” we all sighed in unison. I didn’t know it at the time, but this forlorn riders’ cry was the soundtrack for the next hour. I believed the inconvenience would be brief; unfortunately, that was not the case. Dim emergency lighting colored the darkness light black. In less than a half hour, the freezing train air dissolved as uncomfortable shifted to unbearable. The car we’d bunched on was a humid hot box. The aroma of desperation mingled with anticipation, and the boil rose. ...