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August 01, 2002 | 5:10 PM Strangers on a Train Part 3
I find myself in the back of the last dark car wrapped up tight like a Christmas present. His lips decorate my body. His hands are ribbons tying and untying. He is bows and knots and silk rope around me. His fingers fight their way past buttons and seams. They meander to a hole in my stocking which grows larger and larger until there is more hole than hose. And then those fingers borrow deep. Deep down. I try to keep quiet. I am eighteen. He is thirty-five. We are on a train. I almost miss my stop. *** The first part of this story is HERE and the second part is HERE
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Before After
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