Train Escape

Neal heard the wail of the train whistle across the wide expanse of North Dakota flatland, took his mouth off the man's cock, and lifted his head and sniffed the air. That wouldn't be the Empire Builder. He had another hour and a half to get back to the Minot train depot to open the café for that train's arrival. As long as he'd lived in Minot, which seemed to be forever, the Empire Builder had never been on time on its water break at Minot.

"Suck it," the Air Force guy growled, grabbing Neal's head between his hands and pulling his face back down on the cock. The man, in uniform with just his fly open and cock out, was leaning his ass into the trunk of the car he and the other Air Force enlisted man had driven out to the edge of the airbase in, and Neal was crouched over his thighs and sucking his cock.

The other fly boy—who didn't really fly—was saddled behind Neal, his trousers and briefs down around his ankles, with one palm on Neal's belly and the other hand clutching Neal's right shoulder, and was moving his pelvis, pumping Neal ass with his cock from behind. This was what Neal had come for—the anal screw. He wasn't that wild about giving blow jobs, but he ached to be fucked in the ass regularly. If he had to suck off a guy to get what he wanted, he'd do it.

The car was parked behind the only structure that could be seen for miles—and it seemed like the dreary North Dakota terrain in late spring could be seen for miles—which was the gray-wood shed on top of an abandoned mine entrance. Neal had no idea what kind of mine it was, and he didn't particularly care. He only cared that it gave minimal cover for him earning fifty dollars and relieving his need to be screwed.

The town of Minot, with some forty thousand inhabitants, was a nowhere burg in a nowhere state. It only stayed open because of the Air Force base some fifteen miles away. And the only action Neal saw in a dull, straight-laced town like Minot was like what was happening now—Air Force guys desperate for it hooking up with him via the Internet for a quick threesome out on the scrub prairie. It wasn't much for Neal, but it was better than nothing, and he needed the money. It was a hard life being gay in a nowhere town like Minot, where the only excitement was the half or three-quarter hour water stop of Amtrak's Empire Builder passenger train on its daily roll between Chicago, Illinois, and Portland, Oregon.

It was the break in the tedium every day, sometime between 9:30 and 10:00 every other day on its eastern ride, and 8:00 and 8:30 in the morning on its western route, when the Empire Builder pulled in that had Neal working behind the café counter at the train depot. Now it made him step up his sucking of this Air Force mechanic's cock and start the wiggling of his pelvis that would draw out an ejaculation from the other guy at his rear end. Neal had to get the café open again at 9:00 this evening, and he didn't want to miss the coffee sipping visit of Jay Fallows while the train was taking on water.

Jay, a good-looking and well-muscled waiter on the Empire Builder, came in to the café for a cup of coffee every time he was on the train run. He always had a smile and good discussion for Neal on worlds beyond North Dakota. He was only on the train about half the time, but when he wasn't, he was off somewhere in the world traveling himself and gathering experiences from the greater world—a far greater world than the dreary state of North Dakota.

Neal lived in this greater world through Jay and his stories of his travels. Jay was possibly the only reason Neal hadn't slit his wrists by now. Being stuck as a gay guy in a nowhere town like Minot in a nowhere state like North Dakota was enough to drive a guy crazy. The only other hookup—other than the Air Force guys via the Internet—Neal had, was the older guy he lived with two blocks away from the train depot, Ed, who ran a bar downtown. But Ed was letting himself go and sinking into the alcohol. He didn't even fuck Neal all that often anymore. He'd been good in the beginning. He'd taken good care of Neal. But he was getting old and whatever passion had been in their relationship was gone.

Neal thought he'd go crazy if he didn't get out of Minot soon. Jay, from the train, and coffee breaks with Jay were the only pleasures standing between Neal and running down the main street of Minot and screaming bloody murder—not that that would break the monotony for anyone in town. They all shied away from him anyway, not really knowing he was actively gay—just knowing there was something "not right" in terms of their world about him.

The Air Force guys taken care of and $20 collected from the one sitting on the trunk and $30 from the one who fucked him from behind, and a "next" appointment set up, Neal mounted his motorbike and putted back to Minot. He opened the café at the depot, and made sure that a fresh batch of coffee was brewing. Then he waited for the scheduled 9:27 p.m. train arrival, which was always late. The train pulled in at 9:32, but Jay didn't show in the café. It must be one of his days off, Neal thought—and he immediately sank into depression, only saved by drinking the cup of coffee he'd gotten ready for Jay, fixed just the way the guy liked it, and imagining, while he sipped, where Jay must be traveling now. The next time Jay was here, he'd be full of enthusiasm about where he'd gone and what he'd seen—and Neal would have to be content with living that vicariously.

By 10:10 the Empire Building had steamed out toward the east—toward Chicago—again, and Neal started closing the café. He worked by habit, not thinking about what he was doing—just dreaming about Chicago, where he'd never been. He'd never been anywhere bigger than Minot. Jay had been to Chicago—he was there nearly every day. And Jay had been full of stories about Chicago. If he tried real hard, Neal could almost act like he'd been there too. He almost could describe the buildings there and the river coming down to the lake in the middle of the city.

With a sigh, he got back on his bike and rode the two blocks to Ed's house—not much more than a shed and full of Ed's junk. Neal had nothing much of his own to put in the house. He heard the snoring as he entered the house. Ed wasn't usually home at this hour, but it was a Sunday and the bar was closed. Ed had a bar of his own in the house, though, and he'd obviously spent the day making use of it. He was stretched out on the bed—their bed—snoring up a storm. He was dressed still—or half dressed, at least—and was as dirty as a pig.

Neal didn't mind—not tonight. He'd been fucked today. He was highly sexed, another irony of living in a nowhere town like this—being gay and highly sexed. So, he liked to be plowed regularly. Increasingly Ed wasn't stepping up to that. Increasingly, Neal was making the fifteen-mile trip out to the air base for release of tension and whatever excitement he could get in life.

He went to the computer and turned it on. There was another guy at the airbase who wanted to see him tonight. He'd hooked up with him before. Ugly as sin but a thick cock. He didn't really need the sex tonight; he'd already had it. But he was depressed that Jay hadn't been on the train, and who knew when he'd get sex again? And Ed's snoring was driving him crazy. And, yes, now that he thought about it, he

could

use more sex tonight. He was highly sexed in a no-sex town.

He lay across the backseat of the guy's old clunker of a convertible, once more behind the gray-wood shed on top of the mine shaft. The guy was on top of him. Neal's legs were bent and spread as much as they could be in the backseat of a car, knees turned outward, feet pressed at a slight angle into the seat cushion. His leg muscles were cramping because he was using the leverage of his feet on the seat cushion to raise and roll his pelvis up. He wanted the guy as deep inside him as possible. His legs hurt, but the guy must be close to coming, so Neal hung on. He palmed the guy's plump butt cheeks, naked, with his trousers bunched around his knees, and pulled him in with each thrust, encouraging him to come.

The guy was inside him as deep as he was going to get, thrusting and pulling back, thrusting and pulling back, thrusting and pulling back, making grunting sounds. The image Neal was surfacing was that of a pig. The guy was butt ugly and a bit pudgy, but he was young and muscular. And he had a dick and he was thick and hard and he had his dick inside Neal's channel, sliding across Neal's passage walls, making the muscles of his walls ripple in pleasure. Neal was moving with the thrusts too, taking as much of the cock inside him as he could, glad that the guy was thick. Not great, but good enough.

The guy came, filling out the bulb of his condom. Neal clutched him close, enjoying the feel of the guy's cock spasming inside him—once, twice, three times. The guy's full weight lowered onto Neal and he let his pelvis relax, fall, and nestle into the seat cushion, relieving the cramping in his legs. They lay there, the guy snuffling, breathing hard, and kissing the hollow of Neal's throat, while Neal stared up at the display of stars in the clear North Dakota sky, scanning the edges of the sky, wishing he were somewhere out under the sky at the edges, somewhere other than North Dakota. He reached down and fisted his own cock, which the guy hadn't touched, and began masturbating himself to his own climax.

Not great, but good enough. Well, increasingly not good enough.

He thought about Jay from the Empire Builder. He thought about doing this with Jay, substituting Jay for this Air Force mechanic on top of him. Neal had a crush on Jay from the train. He'd admit that to himself. There'd been nothing but occasional looks between them, certainly—looks that probably meant more to Neal than to Jay. He could fantasize, though. And that's what he did. He stroked his cock and thought about Jay. And he came, thinking about Jay.

The Air Force guy whispered something in his ear and looked surprised when Neal nodded ascent. They rolled on the seat, changing positions, with the guy on his back and Neal on top. Neal straddled the guy's hips, put a hand back, adjusting the guy's cock, once more hard, descended one it with his channel, leaned over and palmed the guy's pecs, and began rising and falling on the guy's cock, taking him deep, making him moan—making them both moan. He was fucking himself on a pudgy Air Force mechanic, whose greatest assets were that he was thick, could recover quickly, and had a convertible, but he was dreaming that it was Jay.

* * * *

Two days later, Neal arrived at the train depot café at 8:30 in the evening to reopen it for the Empire Builder's stop en route to Chicago. He was nervous and apprehensive but also a bit excited. He'd made another assignation with a guy via the Internet. They were going to meet here, sometime around 10:30, when he closed the café again. The guy said he had a hotel room. It must be another Air Force guy from the base, Neal thought, but there hadn't been much information given. There had been a photo of the guy naked from the neck down to his knees, though. He was in good shape and had nothing to be ashamed of in the equipment department—if, of course, it really was the guy Neal exchanged messages with.

The guy had been all over the States and a few places abroad, according to information on the hook-up site and the two exchanges they'd had. That had been what had caught Neal's attention—well, that and that the guy looked like he wasn't too old and he was in good shape and hung. Most of the Air Force pilots who hooked up with Neal weren't any of those things. If they were young and good-looking, they seemed to have something other than the Internet hook-up site to use. The pilots—the officers—mostly fucked each other, Neal thought. Most of the guys who went off base for it were the plane mechanics and most of those who went to the Web site were middle aged and out of shape.

And Neal had hopes that Jay would be on this train too. It would be great to see Jay and to fantasize a bit about him as he drank his coffee, belly up to the café counter, and told Neal where he'd been the previous two passes of the train when he hadn't been on it. From that Neal would get into the mood and feel the glow and, if the guy he was hooking up with at 10:30 looked like a dud—or, worse, hadn't sent a real picture of himself—at least Neal would be thinking of Jay when he was sucking the guy's cock or being fucked by him.

The Empire Builder also sounded its horn a mile or so out of town so they'd know it was coming at the depot, and it did so tonight as well. It was not more than five minutes off its scheduled arrival time of 9:27. Neal already had a fresh pot of coffee going and he stood there, wringing a tea towel with his hands and trembling in the hope that Jay would be on the train tonight. He stared out of the depot windows as the engine's headlight beamed into the tracks out beyond the platform. He felt like running out and waving the train down to make sure it stopped, but he knew that Jay wouldn't like it being so obvious Neal was anxious to see him.

The train had ground to a halt for more than six minutes and Jay hadn't appeared. He always came right off the train when he was on it in the hopes he could get in two cups of coffee before the engine blast its "all aboard" horn, even if he had to take the second cup back on board with him. Neal always put the second cup in a foam cup for that reason. What if he wasn't coming tonight? It had been a rare occasion when Jay had missed three runnings of the route. Neal already could feel the start of dejection taking over.

But then there he was, coming through the door, wearing a big grin. Looking straight at Neal, melting in his shoes behind the café counter.

"Hi, ho, any coffee left for a weary traveler?"

He was magnificent in Neal's eyes. He brought sunshine into the depot even after night had fallen. He was always upbeat—no doubt a requirement for working in the train's dining car—and he was always looking fresh. He only had eyes for Neal as he crossed the room. He was older than Neal—appreciably older. Neal thought he must be in his thirties, but he'd never asked him how old he was, just as he never asked why he was still working on a train, as a dining car waiter. He'd said enough about traveling, though, that Neal assumed he had to be continually on the move. He was still young looking—blond; with a dimpled, "oh my gosh" Minnesota Norwegian-stock smile; and a good, clean-cut build. His Amtrak uniform always looked fresh, well pressed. He walked on the balls of his feet, like a dancer, which he'd probably learned to do carrying food in a lurching train car. He was a god to Neal.

"I think I can find another cup or two," Neal said. And then, because he couldn't help himself, he said, "I missed not seeing you the last two runs. On vacation?"

"I went all the way to Portland on the run a couple of days ago and took time to go check out how the recovery at the Mount St. Helens volcano is going."

"You don't live in Portland? I thought you lived at that end of the run."

"I live in Spokane," Jay said. "The train splits there, half going to Portland and half going to Spokane. There's an older guy approaching retirement who lives in Portland and takes over for me usually for that segment. Same thing for the Seattle segment. It gives me some time in Spokane."

"You live in Spokane?" Neal said, giving it thought. He only now realized how little he actually knew about Jay. He'd never known that he had someplace to live in Spokane. "You have a family there?"

"Nope. Just me. I had a guy living with me for a while, but it didn't work out."

Neal could only hope and dream what that meant. He certainly didn't pursue the question. He'd never thought about Jay's preferences before. Neal had never been able to dream that dream. He moved to safer ground. "So that volcano is out that way?"

"Yes, a couple of hours drive from Portland. You didn't know it was near Portland?"

"No, I didn't know. I've been nowhere. Go out on the street side of the building here in Minot. Take a look around. You can see for miles and miles, but I haven't been any further than you can see. Not a foot out of North Dakota."

While Neal was saying this, already regretting how whiney it sounded, Jay, perched on the red-vinyl-covered aluminum stool on the customer's side of the café counter, had been stirring sugar into his coffee, blowing on it, and taking a sip. "Umm, delicious. You make the best coffee in the world, Neal."

Good, Neal thought, Jay hadn't picked up on him feeling sorry for himself. But then Jay revealed that he

had

picked up on it.

"You need to go on the train—the Empire Builder—yourself someday, Neal. It would do you good. Go to both ends—to Chicago and to Portland and even Seattle. I think you'd love seeing them."

"Yeah, maybe you could show them to me."

"I'd love to show those towns to you," Jay said, looking up into Neal's eyes. Neal was trembling. For a few seconds there it was like angels' trumpets were sounding and the whole dull sheen on his life was peeling away. But then it rushed back. This was just talk. Jay was just being nice to him.

The engine's five-minute warning blast before the "all aboard" horn would sound went off.

No! screamed through Neal's mind. He can't be leaving again so soon.

"Shit. I wish I had time for another cup of coffee. This one saved my life, I think. It will keep me going through the breakfast service. Did anyone tell you you make the best coffee in the world, Neal?"

Jay was all beaming smiles. He'd chugged his coffee and was rising from the stool. They'd had their ten minutes of talk and Jay was ready to go back to his world—a world that was exciting and filled with adventure when compared with Neal's.

"If you've got a minute, I'll pour you a take-away," Neal said. This was a game they played. Unless the train needed a longer layover here for some reason, Jay always drank one cup at the café counter while they talked for a few minutes and then Neal said, "If you've got a minute, I'll pour you a take-away." And then he did. Jay would wink at him and smile, take the foam cup, their fingers brush against each other's for a second. And then he'd turn and leave the depot, without looking back. Neal would follow after a few seconds and stand at a depot window, watching Jay get back onto the train. He'd remain there, unless there was a café customer needing his attention—and there rarely was—and watch the train pull out. Then he'd sigh and return to the counter and start his closedown routine. This was the last passenger train of the night.

The Empire Builder's "all aboard" horn sounded.

Neal extend the hand holding the foam cup with the plastic top, steam coming out of a hole in the top. Jay took the cup and let his hand linger there a moment longer than usual, his fingers brushing against Neal's. Jay winked at Neal and smiled. Then he turned and walked out of the depot.

Another customer did, in fact, come to the counter for a cup of coffee, so Neal was longer than usual going to the window. When he did, it was too late to catch a look of Jay climbing up into the train. "Shit," he said under his breath. He stood there and watched the train pull out of the station. He lingered a moment after the train had cleared the platform.

He was about to turn and go back to the counter when, out of the shadows of the platform, Jay, smiling, emerged, carrying a duffle bag.

Neal stood there, transfixed, as Jay walked back into the building.

"I believe we have a 10:30 appointment," Jay said, his smile not wavering. "I rented a room. I hope the hotel isn't far from here."

* * * *

Neither spoke as they went to the hotel, which was only a couple of blocks away. Neal knew it and those working in the kitchen there well, and he went up to the second floor by back stairs and waited for Jay to join him in the corridor there and then take him to the hotel room. Explanations were for later. Jay had said only the name of the guy Neal was supposed to meet up with and that was enough for Neal to know that Jay was his hook-up. Neal didn't want it not to be so, so he asked no questions. They were both nervous and keyed up. Questions would be for later.