(no subject)
Another Trip on a Train
Composed from a letter written in Europe
The Trojan's next great adventure took place on the train from France to Spain. It was an overnight trip, so he booked his own private room as he anticipated finding some lucky phillie to ride across the international border. As soon as he boarded, he stored his bag, and then proceeded to wander the cars.
He first strolled to the drink car. He took his time, hoping for some cute girl to press past in some chance encounter, hoping not to run into any fat tourists that would block the slender aisles. But no such luck, good or bad. He got his drink, a vodka martini, and went back to the sleeping and sitting car. He waited at the end of sleeping cars, watching for girls to leave their rooms. He sat in the sitting cars, looking over all his fellow passengers, before standing and moving on.
It was a sad state of affairs that the view outside the train was much more interesting than that inside. Three times he had emptied his glass, only slowly sipping at it, and filled it up again. Now, it was an hour before the dining car's close time, and his stomach's growl told him he had to eat before then. The tables were fairly cleaned out already, except for a few stragglers.
Then he saw her, on the far end. A cute girl sat in a school uniform, the white button-up shirt and short, plaid skirt. Her face was partially covered by a copy of Plato's Republic, though what he could see was beautiful, with striking blue eyes and plaited brown hair.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked, as he approached her table.
She slowly looked up from her book, but upon seeing the Trojan, flashed a timid white smile. "No. Not at all." Nervously, she moved around her half-empty plate of fish.
"Thank you. I so hate to eat alone."
"Well you know what they say. Good conversation aids the digestion." A forced attempt to be witty. It was cute.
So their conversation began. They talked about a multitude of things. She was American, a student at Sarah Lawrence or some other girls college in New York, and she was majoring in some art. They debated Plato. She cowed to him on most issues, but he never pressed the points too far. He ate the salmon at her suggestion, the the two shared a slice of cake. She then led him back to her room. Perhaps she was naive to give him such an opening, he thought then. Perhaps she didn't know what to expect. But the Trojan is not a guy to pass on a girl's naivete. He is the sort of guy happy to give a girl a surprise.
Things fell into place as they always do, and the two did not emerge from the room again that night. I will not pass on the sordid details except for when and where they are relevant.
It was well into the morning when the Trojan awoke. The girl was still asleep, curled fetal position against his chest, her arms wrapped around him. He saw a more urban landscape outside the window than the farmland of the night before. They were nearing the end of the line. He regretted instinctually that he had not left the night before, that she was asleep and he was trapped. But things had gone crazy last night.
She was not the innocent little school girl she put herself out to be. He midnight talents were a testament to that. She had done things that most men had never heard of. The Trojan had not been surprised by the acts and language itself, but by the girl it all came out of. He had never seen any one girl do all of this, and she had done it all with such pep and energy. He was surprised no conductor had come banging on their door to tell them to be quiet, that they hadn't broken anything in the small room. Perhaps, they had been too loud to hear any banging, too enthralled to notice anything break.
It was hard to imagine it was the same girl with him now. Her calm breath against his breast was lulling him back to sleep and her hair still smelled sweet. Even though she was as naked as a newborn babe, she was just as innocent. He didn't regret being in this bed as much as he could have.
The train pulled into the station, with a violent screech. The girl woke with a start, her nails digging into his back, and the Trojan was reminded who she was. They smiled at each other briefly, no apologies made, then she took her arms from around his body. They both sat up. The Trojan looked around for his clothes, but made no move when he found them. She was the first one to speak.
"You know, I really need to get ready to get off." It was a polite way to get rid of a used-up lover, though there was no such courtesy in her voice.
The Trojan reached for his underwear in a slow, deliberate manner. "Yeah, same here." He spoke with no inflection. Apparently, it was a practiced occurence for both of them. Those were the last words they spoke to each other.
Composed from a letter written in Europe
The Trojan's next great adventure took place on the train from France to Spain. It was an overnight trip, so he booked his own private room as he anticipated finding some lucky phillie to ride across the international border. As soon as he boarded, he stored his bag, and then proceeded to wander the cars.
He first strolled to the drink car. He took his time, hoping for some cute girl to press past in some chance encounter, hoping not to run into any fat tourists that would block the slender aisles. But no such luck, good or bad. He got his drink, a vodka martini, and went back to the sleeping and sitting car. He waited at the end of sleeping cars, watching for girls to leave their rooms. He sat in the sitting cars, looking over all his fellow passengers, before standing and moving on.
It was a sad state of affairs that the view outside the train was much more interesting than that inside. Three times he had emptied his glass, only slowly sipping at it, and filled it up again. Now, it was an hour before the dining car's close time, and his stomach's growl told him he had to eat before then. The tables were fairly cleaned out already, except for a few stragglers.
Then he saw her, on the far end. A cute girl sat in a school uniform, the white button-up shirt and short, plaid skirt. Her face was partially covered by a copy of Plato's Republic, though what he could see was beautiful, with striking blue eyes and plaited brown hair.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked, as he approached her table.
She slowly looked up from her book, but upon seeing the Trojan, flashed a timid white smile. "No. Not at all." Nervously, she moved around her half-empty plate of fish.
"Thank you. I so hate to eat alone."
"Well you know what they say. Good conversation aids the digestion." A forced attempt to be witty. It was cute.
So their conversation began. They talked about a multitude of things. She was American, a student at Sarah Lawrence or some other girls college in New York, and she was majoring in some art. They debated Plato. She cowed to him on most issues, but he never pressed the points too far. He ate the salmon at her suggestion, the the two shared a slice of cake. She then led him back to her room. Perhaps she was naive to give him such an opening, he thought then. Perhaps she didn't know what to expect. But the Trojan is not a guy to pass on a girl's naivete. He is the sort of guy happy to give a girl a surprise.
Things fell into place as they always do, and the two did not emerge from the room again that night. I will not pass on the sordid details except for when and where they are relevant.
It was well into the morning when the Trojan awoke. The girl was still asleep, curled fetal position against his chest, her arms wrapped around him. He saw a more urban landscape outside the window than the farmland of the night before. They were nearing the end of the line. He regretted instinctually that he had not left the night before, that she was asleep and he was trapped. But things had gone crazy last night.
She was not the innocent little school girl she put herself out to be. He midnight talents were a testament to that. She had done things that most men had never heard of. The Trojan had not been surprised by the acts and language itself, but by the girl it all came out of. He had never seen any one girl do all of this, and she had done it all with such pep and energy. He was surprised no conductor had come banging on their door to tell them to be quiet, that they hadn't broken anything in the small room. Perhaps, they had been too loud to hear any banging, too enthralled to notice anything break.
It was hard to imagine it was the same girl with him now. Her calm breath against his breast was lulling him back to sleep and her hair still smelled sweet. Even though she was as naked as a newborn babe, she was just as innocent. He didn't regret being in this bed as much as he could have.
The train pulled into the station, with a violent screech. The girl woke with a start, her nails digging into his back, and the Trojan was reminded who she was. They smiled at each other briefly, no apologies made, then she took her arms from around his body. They both sat up. The Trojan looked around for his clothes, but made no move when he found them. She was the first one to speak.
"You know, I really need to get ready to get off." It was a polite way to get rid of a used-up lover, though there was no such courtesy in her voice.
The Trojan reached for his underwear in a slow, deliberate manner. "Yeah, same here." He spoke with no inflection. Apparently, it was a practiced occurence for both of them. Those were the last words they spoke to each other.