Take the F Train

"Oh, God, yeah," she muttered, and I decided that it was no time to stick my two cents in. Instead, I watched her impossibly slow and smooth descent into double-penetration. "Unnh," she moaned when the penii were fully within her, throwing her head back in pleasure.

The train stuttered forward again, and I had to take a small step to keep from falling. I also instinctively reached out my hand to support myself, and it found the quivering flesh of Amber's thigh, just above the knee. It was a strange thrill, to feel her body lifted by the simultaneous and ungentle thrusts of the two men. Every inch of her bounced: from her ass to her magnificent breasts—which were now both fully out over the neckline of her dress — to her jaw. The cheeks of her face fluttered the way you sometimes see track stars' cheeks flopping around when they're being shown running in super-slow-mo.

With her hands held behind her, I got the impression that she was being launched upward with each thrust, then immediately pulled back down.

"Don't," she said as she hit bottom on the two guys' crotches. "Stop," she added on the next descent, as her legs bounced from the impact. She continued the staccato declarations: "Don't ... fucking ... stop."

When Amber climaxed again, she let out a low, rolling sort of moan that wouldn't have been out of place at a Halloween haunted house. She was trying to keep herself from emitting something more high-pitched and piercing, I could tell. I thought there was something beautiful and pointless about her effort – as if it wasn't perfectly obvious to everyone in the car what was going on.

Her mournful, moaning soliloquy kept up as they continued to double-hump her, until both of their faces started to scrunch up in a recognizable preamble to orgasm. The guy behind her lost his grip on her left arm, and, as her body flailed on their penetrations, she reached her hand in my direction.

I grabbed it, and she squeezed as hard, I imagine, as a woman giving birth might. She gasped as they came, and continued sucking for air as she climaxed for maybe the fifth time during the ride.

The hands dropped off Amber's body one by one as the breathing of the three individuals locked together slowed. The subway doors opened, and I remembered to look to see where we were: 4th Avenue. Amber's stop was next.

A few people were about to step into the car, but when they spotted the post-coital trio inside, they turned and headed for the next car instead.

I looked at Amber – some of her hair, matted and sweaty, was stuck on her eyelashes and in her mouth. Delicately, I traced it across her forehead and hooked it behind her ear.

Looking from her to the taller guy, I said, "We need to get off." He smiled, no doubt because of my unintentional double-entendre. "Next stop," I added, not leaving him time to make a jokey comment.

Amber nodded wearily, and I grabbed her foot to put the boot back on. "Ah," she moaned at my touch, and repeated it a few times as the leather slid over her calf. The nerves on every inch of her body seemed to be on fire.

The taller guy set her down at last, and she leaned into me for support, nuzzling my neck as she did. I pushed her breasts back into her dress, and she shivered as my hands touched her nipples, which were still tumescent from their workout.

The guy who had first slipped his hand under her dress, now smoothed out its skirt, but, when he finished, he said he couldn't find her panties. I have no idea who made off with them. Looking around, I noticed that both the hipster and the businessman had slunk off somewhere.

The train doors opened again, and I led Amber out onto the platform.

We walked very slowly, very close together, back to her apartment. Her roommate wasn't there, probably at her boyfriend's for the night.

I drew a bath for Amber, undressed her, and soaped her up as she lay in the tub, which elicited a few moans from her.

We got into bed, and I entered her one more time, but neither of us fucked with much conviction. After a few minutes, we fell asleep in each other's arms, my flaccid penis somehow still inside her vagina.

I woke up suddenly before dawn. Amber was rousing me, asking me to leave before her roomie came home.

The sun rose as I walked the ten blocks to my apartment. It felt much cooler out than it had been the day before, and I wondered how I would explain our involvement to Drex. I'm not the kind of guy who has instantaneous expectations. I didn't think I was in love with Amber or anything like that, but I did have that conversation about men just wanting to fuck her playing in my head.

I wasn't going to be like that, I vowed. I wanted to see how well Amber and I fit together. But I wasn't going to get the chance.

When she came in to the office, she was wearing jeans and a lumpy sweater. And there was nothing flirty in her manner, either – she avoided looking in my direction, and only dealt with me when she absolutely had to. It wasn't till just before 5 p.m. that I had any sort of chance to speak with her privately.

I walked into the break room, and she was there, tea-bagging a cup of hot water with a dreamy expression on her face. She glanced up and saw me, and the dreaminess turned into steel.

"About last night," she said tensely, obviously uttering words she had repeated many times to herself.

She paused, and, when she didn't continue, I did it for her. "But maybe it's best if we pretend that it didn't happen."

Amber looked up, relieved. "Yes," she said eagerly. "I just... I can't..." She blushed hard and went quiet again.

I had meant it as a question – asking if that's what she was about to say – but she had taken it as an expression of my own feelings.

"Sure," I said, again covering for her wordlessness. "If that's what you want."

I walked to the vending machine and put in money for a seltzer. By the time the drink had rolled out, she was gone.

I never mentioned that night on the F train again, not to Drex, certainly, and not to Amber, who left the magazine a few months later for a job at a startup website. She and Drex stayed friends, though not nearly as close as they had been before.

Through him every now and then I heard about her switching jobs, say, or when she got married and gave birth to twins – but I never ran into her again in the neighborhood or anywhere else.

It took me a few years to understand what Amber must have seen right away: We had absolutely nowhere to go after that night. How do you move from group sex in public to something more normal, like dinner and a movie?

I don't think Amber could see a way, and these days I can't either.

But New York City gave us that one strange, indelible moment together, a night when anything could happen – and did.

I fucking love this city.