Steve sighed. Friday night, and here he was at work again, while everyone else was having a good time. At least that's how Steve saw it as he watched the group of five pretty girls get onto the train. He watched with envy as a man, about his age, stepped into the front carriage and then turned to kiss his girlfriend goodnight.
Steve turned away, not wishing to intrude in their private moment, but secrectly playing out in his head how he would have kissed her if he was the lovestruck passenger instead of the long-suffering Driver. He stole one last furtive glance as the girl walked away down the silent platform and disappeared into the night.
As the signal turned green, he settled into the driver's seat and selected forward on the train's control desk, and heard the reassuring clunk of gears behind him. He heard the shrill sound of the Guard's whistle as he lit a cigarette. From the discotheque across the road he heard the familiar strains of the Electric Light Orchestra echoing against the dark silent walls of the station. "Last train to London, just leaving town..."
Unlike the singer he certainly did not want tonight to last forever, not this part anyway. "Last train to London..." he muttered to himself. At least he was only going back to Norton Junction. In just over half an hour he would be walking through the gates and leaving this Railway behind...
He awoke from his reverie when the bell rang twice. "Ding ding and off we go," he muttered to nobody in particular as he opened up the throttle, and with a dull throb the train began to move.
The journey was uneventful, as the last train of the day usually was. As the dark miles passed by he found himself thinking. He would be spending the weekend at the Valley Line, a small railway operated by volunteers who lovingly restored the steam locomotives of yesterday. There was something about the glow of the fire, the hiss of steam, and the smell of the hot oil that made him feel, well... The romance of steam was all very good, but after romance came...
He remembered the last time he had seen Kat, her long dark hair spilling out from underneath the cap she wore on her head at a jaunty angle. Most of the other girls who worked on the railway contented themselves with working in the buffet car, or selling tickets in the booking office, but not Kat. She was there at the crack of dawn to help him light the fire and clean the engine. He remembered fondly the time they had watched the sunrise across the valley from the footplate of the locomotive, shrouded in wisps of steam, remembered the look in her eyes, the...
A loud blast broke the spell. The automatic warning for the distant signal. Norton Junction was just round the corner. As the train came to a gentle halt in the platform his mind was already gone. As he started up his motorcycle and roared off down the lane his gloved hands on the handlebars were, in his mind at least, caressing her shoulders, touching her hair as he gently kissed her...
He took off his gloves and helmet and fumbled for his wallet. Fifty years ago he would have been walking into the Stationmaster's house but now, since the railway closed, the house had been converted into a pub. Steve lamented the passing of a small bit of history but was secretly glad because he needed a drink.
As he sipped his pint he looked around the pub. What he saw nearly made him drop his glass on the floor. It was Kat, he recognised her hair, her eyes, but he hardly recognised the beautiful woman who sat at the table before him. As he sat beside her, he was lost for words. He had only ever seen her in a pair of baggy blue overalls which gave no clue to what was underneath but now, he needed imagine no more. The red dress clung to the curves of her body as if had been painted on. His gaze followed the lines of her body, stopping at all stations. The low-cut neckline of the dress gave more than just a hint of cleavage, her round white breasts squeezed together in a way that made him forget the stresses of the day. The dress accentuated her waist and then stopped six inches above her knee. He glanced at her shapely legs beneath the table. A thousand thoughts raced through his head, but as she leaned forward to kiss him, all but one disappeared.
Her red mouth, as red as her sexy dress, parted slightly as their lips met. He felt her warmth on his cold face as they kissed. He gently stroked her hair, and felt her shiver at the touch of his icy hand. "I've missed you," she said as the kiss broke, "but you better warm your hands up before you touch me again."
