Caboose

"I understand," was all she said. We avoided the obvious subject.

Rene varied her thrusts and when she saw my teeth clench and felt the tightened muscles, she sped up her thrust as fast as she could. I seized her firm hips with each hand and thrust as far up as I could. "I want this. I want this, too," I cried. My body froze as I shot my load deep up into her. "You are so powerful. I love you," was my reflex to release. She just smiled a silly smile as I completely relaxed and sank into the car's seat exhausted.

I did not move, I could not move, while she briskly put on her shorts and panties and primed herself. The sun's rays began to chase away the darkness. Rene opened the car door to get out and turned to give me a quick kiss before she walked up the road to her house. I raised my body to watch her leave and I yelled out, "Nice ass!" Rene stopped, pulled down the back of her shorts, bent over, and wiggled her butt at me. Then she half turned, air kissed me, and hiked up her shorts and continued to walk home.

My body was a wreck but I quickly clothed myself and made my way to the road home. My balls ached and my mouth was as dry as sandpaper. I looked for someplace I could get water. I passed a failed donut shop and found nothing but the convenience store I'd been in earlier with Rene and Cleo. Sugar soda and beer would not satisfy my thirst and dehydration. I reasoned that they might sell the five gallon glass jugs of distilled water but I did not want to spend that much. Why don't they sell bottled water in glass soda bottles? Probably because, I quickly realized, no one would ever pay for water. I spied the service island near the gas pumps, which had the free air and water and drank my fill from the hose.

After the sun had well established the day, I reached home in Miami Gardens; with the last of my strength, I showered and flopped into bed. After an hour of deep sleep, the phone jarred me awake; the gruff Hialeah Yard crew clerk told me I'd been relieved. Tyndale's regular flagman had just been discharged from jury duty. Furthermore, my next extra board assignment was the afternoon East Rail job in Hialeah at 4 PM. I was so angry I couldn't sleep.

Two months later I was sent back to the same train in West Palm Beach with Tyndale. Without me bringing up the subject, Tyndale eventually confided, "When them bitches heard you weren't here, they left without getting on board. Can you imagine those dumb fucks? And we had all that beer."

Early in the 1980's the railroads sold off most of their cabooses.

About ten years before he planned to retire, and probably due to untreated hypertension and diabetes, engineer Simon Samuels suffered a severe stroke and never again drove either a freight engine or a car. His world diminished to his front porch in Okeechobee City, where his audience ranged between few and none. Although we were never really friends, I went to visit him once before he passed.

Brakeman Charles Sedgwick quit the railroad weeks after that July night and returned to teach high school somewhere. I guess it was just a summer job for him.

Fourteen years later and just after his forty-fifth birthday, conductor John Tyndale succumbed to cirrhosis of the liver.

From time to time during my first five years with the railroad, I returned to work in West Palm Beach. Sometimes I felt lonely and sometimes I felt horny but I could not bring myself to look up Rene Caruthers or Cleo Watkins. That was over thirty-five years ago. For me, Rene and Cleo never aged, never had children, and never got fat. Did I make the right decision? You tell me.

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Author gratefully acknowledges the editing assistance of delicate_yielding.