Close Encounter on a Train

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You meet an old friend at the airport.
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So, I pick you up at the airport. Old old friends, but, hell, it's been a while and then some.

You get to be the one coming out from backstage, all bleary-eyed, but wide awake and soaking it all up and with that darting look as your eyes flick around looking for something, someone familiar.

I guess I have the advantage, naturally, as I see you waaay before you see me and I get to watch you in that detached way you can really look at someone who hasn't a clue you're watching.

No wheelie suitcase, you, but a smallish backpack, and I say hello and smile do that shoulder-patting hug thing and I offer to carry something to the station, but it's just pleasantries, and I've already bought the tickets, so we just hop straight onto the waiting train.

And we sit, face to face, by the train window. This is my show, so I ask about the journey, and you tell me a series of anecdotes, great detail, funny, about the mix-up when the woman behind the counter asked if you'd packed you bag yourself and you misunderstood and said, no, and ended up having to open it up for a thorough inspection, and about the rotund old chap on the plane who fell asleep with his head on your shoulder and I laugh, and it's cool.

I waffle on about things through the window. England's green and pleasant land and you just lap it all up and I crack open the cokes I bought and tell you to take a sip so I can top it up from the half jack of damn fine Polish vodka I have in my bag. And we drink and any nerves are gone.

The journey takes about an hour and it's already halfway through, and we have one of those familiar awkward silences, which is really just a pause in the laughter, and you look at me, kinda quizzically like, and I feign a shyness that's only half there and you kick my shoe with your foot.

Now, if there were any doubts about which way we were headed, I have none now, and I'm thinking that's half an hour already gone and I dart my eyes towards the door where there's that gap between carriages with the toilet cubicles and you are one step ahead and when I casually stroll off there, you are just a step behind.

By the time we slip into the 'bathroom' (though neither of us is planning on a bath) we're pretty much all over one another and it's a question of practicalities but I'm guessing we're both pretty resourceful of that front. We're kissing and although there's no real need, we seem to be pretty much undressing me, as my top's off and, hell, those knickers, they just seem to disappear.

There's a counter by the sink and you're guiding me back towards that and I kind of raise my arse a bit to sit on it. And we're still kissing through all of this, except your mouth slips down a bit and then some and it's there on my breasts and it's back on my mouth.

You have one hand behind my head, which is in danger, not that I give a fuck, of banging into the paper towel dispenser.

But me, hell, I'm just on fire and I barely know I'm there, so when the door handle begins to move and someone knocks to ask if anyone's there, I'm afraid I barely notice your 'no offence but we're busy in here, so if you'd kindly fuck off'.

Your other hand is inside of me and outside of me and I know what I want, so that when your head goes further down and I see what you're thinking, tempting though it is, I shake my head, undo the button and zip of your jeans and pull you right up to me so you're standing between my legs and there's only one place you can go, babe.

And you do. You slip right on inside of me and just wait a second.

And then you slip right on back out again, so I practically beg you with the tiniest of hmmm-moans to come back in.

Me, I don't move. I don't want to. I just stay quite still and kiss the top of your head and wrap my arms around you, and leave any movement to you. Just still. And though it really should take longer, I used the words hair trigger appropriately, and as you feel this, where I go from breathing heavily to just not breathing at all for 20/30 seconds, and my twitching around you, hell, mate, you aren't far behind.

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