"Tickets please." I hear him coming down the train car. What can I say, I like a man in a uniform. And a cap. And a little red tie that I can use to pull him into the dark corners of the train as I head home late at night.
We've never exchanged names or numbers, we know nothing about one another. But I like the way his hair curls out from under his cap, and the way he winks at me when none of the passengers are looking, and the way he presses up against me by the train door to 'keep me from falling out.' And he says he likes the way I sit in a train seat, 'like I own the place;' and how my suit skirts ride up in the seat, showing off my strong thighs; and the way I taste, 'like a good bourbon, where just the taste lets you know how intoxicating it's going to be.'
"Tickets please, ma'am." He says with a wink. He punches my pass, as if he doesn't even know me, and moves down along the aisle where I can watch his tall strong back and adorable ass move from seat to seat. I take in the view, thinking about how I'll be running my hands all over that back in just a few minutes. He moves to the next car, and I watch the seconds tick by on my watch until 3 minutes have passed. I gather up my grey jacket and black leather tote and walk down the aisle as if I'm changing cars. I pull open the door and let it close behind me as I step into the area between the cars.
He's there, waiting for me, leaned up like a model against the metal wall as it shifts and sways with the rhythm of the train.
"You were later than usual. I thought you weren't going to make the train."
