Never Fuck on a Subway: A guide
It’s three am and we were not at the same party.
There’s a drunk at one end of the car with a bottle in hand. But to be fair, there are two more drunks staring at each other from across the aisle.
It’s been a few months since we broke up. Do we call it a breakup? Yeah, we probably should, but it’s fuzzy now and I can’t remember what happened.
She’s smiling like she can’t remember either and for some reason, both of us are walking towards each other like we can’t help it. Maybe we can’t. Her lipstick is smudged and her stockings have a tear all the way down her left leg.
My shirt is unbuttoned most of the way and I smell more like bourbon than romance. But we don’t kiss for romance. We don’t stumble against the doors for beauty, and my hand is not under her dress for anything like love.
Some part of me whispers that it’s a bad idea. Her hand on my zipper erases the thought. The drunk is coughing but he’s not trying to. Some part of her whispers that I’ll never say no to her. I shake my head, thinking for a brief second that I’d prove her wrong.
Somehow she has a leg up and she’s grabbing my hard cock in one hand as I tear her underwear, pushing what’s left of it to the side. She’s saying it again, laughing this time, but I know how long it is until the next step. Even though we’re magically running express.
You fucking love me, she says as I thrust inside her, grunting as I struggle to stand and hold her. I tell her she’s a cunt and I ask her how many people she’s already fucked tonight.
She wraps both legs around me and kisses my mouth until I taste blood. I slam her against the doors, praying they don’t open, fucking her as hard as I can as her mouth finds my ear.
You don’t want to know, she tells me. Biting again. You have no idea where I’ve been. But you’re still gonna come. I can always make you come.
And the lights are changing and the drunk has somehow moved closer. He’s watching now with a phone in his hand, the flash glowing ominously. The train is slowing, but I can’t stop because she’s right. And I’m so close. And the breaks are to loud for me to hear anything or think anything and her lips are still on my neck and my ear.
It’s three in the morning and I’m coming as I fuck her against the doors of the train. The train that was running express, but is nevertheless slowing down. I’m coming as the train is pulling into a brightly lit station. Too light for three am.
She’s laughing, but there’s lust in there as well. I remember the look from a thousand broken mornings and I miss it even though she’s there. Holding my breath I finally fall forward, pinning her to the doors. My cock is still inside her.
The drunk is yelling and the loudspeaker is crackling.
The door is opening and the light is flickering and we’re falling. We’re both falling. I’m still inside her and we’re falling out into the night sky and the morning air and the empty platform.
Empty except for the people that is. The four people who stand shaking their heads as a bare-assed man and a girl in a blue dress fall out of the train. Someone steps over us and someone reprimands us.
She’s laughing harder now as I roll to one side and struggle to pull up my jeans. I can’t get the button done and somehow she’s holding my hand. I look up and for a moment I think that I can see starts. Maybe it’s a miracle. Maybe the smog has lifted and the night sky has burst into view.
She squeezes my hand harder and I blink back to reality.
The drunk is leaning over me, his grin as big as the moon as he shoves the camera into my face, the light flashing like an exploding star.
Fucking awesome, he says with a laugh.
And then we’re alone again.
And still, we have nothing to say.
