Affair on the Train to Florida

An affair with a lady on a train to Florida

There was an almost unspeakable silence between my knees and her knees as we both sat quietly across from one another, on the train. It was Autumn and the cold had just arrived to New York City, which is where we both departed from. I noticed her buying her ticket, and I knew then, that unlike me, she wasn't a good a planner; an attractive trait, surely, for those like myself who look for women who don't like to think about much, and rather go with the flow, unprepared but always willing to fend for themselves.

She wore an attractive peach raincoat with big white buttons, an orange caramel scarf and, underneath, a blue skirt, topped with a navy blue v-neck sweater and a baby-blue collared button down. Her face spoke miracles, that were whispered to me through the reflection of her face on the window of the cabin, where I would occasionally look to observe her and wonder what she carried in that beautiful mind, so heavily, that she did not move her graze from the rapid passing world outside.

On the platform she pulled her luggage attentively, and she walked purposefully, leaving behind her the trail of a scent that reminded me of vanilla pudding, which my mother used to make for me and my brother, when I was only a boy. She caught my attention with the smell but, even more so, when she turn her head, to observe if the train had arrived at the station, which yet it hadn't, and I saw her radiant eyes, fully green like two emeralds shining from being hit with the light of the sun, shinning upon my face, leaving me flushed. I could not recount the last time I looked at somebody so beautiful that they made me flush with no apparent reason. It was as if my entire body had conspired to tell me that this woman I had just observed, was the perfect one for me, as if I could hear, at the core of all my cells, a crying agony for a perfect match with whom to mix with.

I felt drawn to her since, but I quickly forgot about her as I entered the train and was asked, by an attendant, to lift my luggage into the compartments overhead. My life resumed but only with the brief reminder, every other minute, that the train contained a creature that was the recipient of my deepest desires that day, fantasizing occasionally on meeting her again; when suddenly, I lifted my eyes and there she was, staring down on me, as a goddess who had come to ask for my life, as a sacrifice. 

"Is it taken?" she asked with a gentle voice.

"What?" I responded disoriented.

"The seat."

"No." I replied innocently, accommodating nervously to her presence. "Not at all." 

She entered my space, sat down, settled her bag on the other seat next to her and pulled out a book to read. Brooklyn, by Colm Toibin. I found myself suffocating, my skin radiating heat, and in need to breathe. I could not believe that an angel of such stature had chosen to seat across from me, despite there being other empty seats around us. I started to have a dialogue with myself to determine if that meant that she was interested in me, but I had to stop because of the anxiety it cost me to wonder if I was just going mad, and that the woman simply preferred more space and a large window to look out from.

We didn't speak. For a couple of hours our interaction amounted only to moving aside to let the other out into the main aisle, to use the bathroom. But on one of those occasions, she came back and as she sat down gracefully, pulling her golden hair behind her ear, she spoke,

"I saw a food cabin back there." with a gentle voice.

"Uh?" I asked looking up from my computer.

"I saw a food cabin with tables. Past the bathroom. I thought you'd like to write on a table." How thoughtful, I thought. 

"Thanks." I said, welcoming more conversation. "I'm pretty good here thought, I'm having like- a zen moment." I joked.

She laughed, "Oh. Sorry. Didn't mean to break your focus. Just thought you looked uncomfortable."

"I've gotten used to being in this position. I write like this all the time." I said a bit sarcastically. To my advantage, it made her laugh even more, so much so, that she returned my sarcasm.

"Is that so? You look like you need a portable table or something."

"No. I do yoga."

She bursted out laughing. My humor caught her unexpectedly because she let out a loud screechy laughter than immediately she felt ashamed about, covering her mouth to steady herself. I laughed with her, just as much, warmly, giving her the comfort she needed to feel like she could have fun around me.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Tony. And you?"

"Maddy. Short for Madelyn." she replied. 

"Or like- a little bit mad?" I continued joking.

She laughed, "You're too funny." she said tilting her head to one side.

"I'm just being myself." I said, honestly.

She smiled and looked directly at me for a single second. This second, this fraction of time, was meaningful to me. It was almost a confirmation that she found me attractive. Her gaze was an interesting gaze, a wandering gaze, and it lasted just the right amount of time for her to think of what to say next, extending long enough to keep a little bit of me in her memory, and that is all I needed for the thought of me to branch out.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Florida. To visit my grandparents. You?"

"Same thing. It's my grandmother's birthday, and I have a four day weekend from work, so I thought it would be nice to see her." she explained.

"How lovely. I'm sure she'll find it very special that you came." I said.

"Yea. I feel so bad for her. Being all alone in that retired community." she said.

"Yeah. Loneliness, right? It catches up with all of us."

"So frightening."

"Loneliness?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Why is it frightening?"

"Because, I hate being alone. I have enough in my mind at work, and then everything that's happening in the world, and having to do things at home; it's all just a non-stop buzz in my head, like, there's always something in it, I can't shut it all out."

"You should learn how to." I replied.

"How do you do it?"

"I go to sleep." I joked. She laughed, and this time, she reached over to slap my knee; a far too friendly gesture from someone who I've literally only spent two hours with.

"I'm joking. I meditate."

"I can't do that." she said. 

"Yes, you can." I affirmed.

"No, I can't. I really can't"

"Yes. You can." I insisted. "You can do it right now."

"If I shut my eyes I'll go to sleep." she said sarcastically.

"No, really, try it."

"I can't. I rather read."

"Maybe you should stop putting things in your head. Maybe that's why you always hear a buzz. Just take a moment and quiet your thoughts."

"I can't do it with you staring at me."

"That's precisely why you should do it. The thought of me looking at you is what you should fight to ignore. That along all other thoughts. Empty your mind entirely from thoughts. That's how you achieve peace, girl."

She looked at me, convinced, thinking about it for a second, and then, she closed her eyes.

"I'll guide you. Listen to my voice." I said.

"If you guide me then I'll never stop thinking."

"No, no, no. I'll guide you to the edge and then let you wander around from there." I said. She smiled.

Now that her eyes were close, it was a perfect opportunity for me to look directly at her face without the fear of being seen as a creep. I studied every curve, every dent in her face; her rosy cheeks, her sturdy nose, her thin red lips, the tiny hairs on her skin, the goose pimples that formed on her neck, her long and tempting neck.

"Do you hear the train?" I asked, and she nodded. "Don't try to forget the sound. It'll be impossible. Instead, let it exist but drift away from it. Listen to it..."

...listen to it, and don't listen to it....

...listen to forget...

...let the sound become sort of like a memory...

...that slowly puts itself away...

...do the same...

...with your thoughts...

...put them away...

...put them out of your mind...

...let them exist where you cannot find them...

...somewhere too far from the light of your mind...

...let the light shine on nothing...

...like a spotlight on an empty stage...

...an empty theater...

...with no music...

...and no dancers...

...no one acts...

...no one laughs...

..no one cries...

...just empty...

...and dark...

Her face became suddenly very relaxed, and serious, as if she were falling asleep. I felt my skin becoming warm while I looked directly at her lips, wishing I could press mine against hers. Her mouth relaxed and slightly opened, which made me fantasize about her face during sex. I became increasingly turned on. I could feel my veins pumping inside of my neck, pulsating from the desire I had to tell her how beautiful she looked, a burning urge which gravitated in my stomach, to no avail.

I smiled, because as moments went by, she did not say a word. I thought for sure that she was sleeping, when suddenly she whispered with her eyes still closed,

"...Oh my God... I did it..." and then she slightly opened her eyes, as if she were waking up in the morning.

I smiled, and she smiled, and I knew that at this point, I was welcomed to do or try anything. Her smile and her softly blinking eyes told it to me.

"You look beautiful." I said. The next words from her mouth made my blood boil with excitement. 

"Have you ever had sex on a train?"

I licked my lips and, grinning, I shook my head. She stood up, as if to go to the bathroom again, and as she passed by me, she whispered, "come."

I stood up slowly. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I was blushing and I was shaking from the nerves. My body felt like an earthquake, a volcano ready to erupt. She walked ahead of me, and when she entered the bathroom she turned to look at me one last time. Her gaze was penetrating, puncturing my soul, and drawing me in, like a freshly caught fish, as if I had no control, at all, over my soul, and gently, but dangerously, she became my puppeteer, a curse that could not let me exist in peace, a magnet that I could not resist being drawn to.

I looked left and right and saw people, awake, sleeping, with their headphones, or reading, and I tired my hardest to stay on course, and not hesitate, but it was extremely difficult. When I arrived, I didn't look to see if other people had seen her go in before me, as that would've crushed all anticipation and would've brought me back to the reality that what I was doing was absolutely indecent. I entered and locked the door behind me.

She turned around, lifting her skirt, welcoming me behind her; her red panties dangling by her ankle, which she had removed before my arrival. Impatiently, I took my belt off and I lowered my pants, and I slid into her, with grace. Her body backed into me, taking me whole, and she struggled to gasp; more noticeably, the veins on her neck indicated that she was trying not to explode in excitement, loudly. I was not rough at first. Rather, I was gentle, pulling out occasionally to insert myself again deeply, feeling her tighten around me, as if squeezing pleasure out of me, asking for more of me. Her head turned and our lips met with indescribable passion, her tongue dancing with mine, savoring me. Her hands pulled my hands under her sweater and onto her breasts, which I squeezed gently together, under her bra.

"...ha...rd.." she tried to whisper into my mouth, trying to be as quiet as possible.

I was shaking from the pleasure. She was dripping wet and, inside, I felt her muscles throbbing as if yelling for me to make them hurt. I increased my pace, thrusting into her violently, unable to control myself, unashamed of what people may be hearing outside of the stall. I pulled her into me with both hands on her waist, as if to make the impact of our bodies more drastic. Her stomach shook, and following, her whole body,

"...o...h...my...g... g..." she said grinding her teeth together, moaning. "...god... I'm..."

I saw her head jerk as if there was something stuck on her throat that she was choking on. Her head and her face began to shake uncontrollably, her body being electrocuted by an incredible set of fireworks inside of her, which exploded with tremendous roaring delight at her core, each time requiring every inch of her to resist the urge to scream from the tip of her lungs. "...c...cum...mmi..n..." she stuttered.

Her legs began a series of convulsions, with me still inside of her. I felt something wet dripping down my leg and I heard gushing sounds, coming from her, that only confirmed that she was still cumming. She tightened so much from it, that I slipped out and when I did, her body gave out and she almost fell, had I not caught her with my arms. Her hands gripped my arms so hard they hurt. But I had not yet finished.

I lifted her up, and penetrated her again, "...I...I can't...w...wait..." she pleaded, but I put my hand over her mouth. I was close and I was not going to be stopped by any of her pleas. I rammed into her with force and speed, until I felt the tingling. It was my turn. I shook from the pleasure and pulled out immediately. Suddenly, and rapidly, without having asked, she crouched down and took me into her mouth, allowing me to pour into her welcoming gap, entirely. I throbbed with exploding excitement, each time letting out a stream larger than the last, filling up her mouth until it could barely contain me, which she must've found delicious; because with a gulp, she swallowed all of me.

After giving each other sometime to recuperate and return to our normal selves, and using toilet paper to clean up our mess, we left the stall, one by one, with some time apart, to cover up our little deed. When I came out there was an older man, sitting nearby who looked at me, not with a disappointing gaze, or a wondering gaze, but what looked to me like a congratulatory, but disapproving gaze. I had no pride to swallow, nor did I feel sorry for having done what I did. The only thing I felt was complete satisfaction, not just consciously, but physically. Every part of my body felt eternally thankful for having released every bit of torturing desire I felt for that woman.

As we returned to our seats, I looked at her behind, hiding underneath her skirt, and I wanted to giggle from the happiness of having been granted the special opportunity to have meddled into her body. She sat down first and opened her book, resuming to casually reading again. She looked up at me as I arrived to the seat and smiled at me, devilishly. We were both silent about the gratefulness we both felt for having had each other, as one has a delicious desert.

"Well," I said. "Can I like- have your number?"

She laughed out loud and kicked me playfully.

I never saw her again.

Author's Note

Based on a true story.

Reviews

[Regina Ndagire]

Cool stuff there. Like the flow of the storry