bounced off the wood paneling under the seat as the train hit a bump in the tracks. My eyes opened and I stared at the trembling dust.
Only a detour.
Chapter Six
By midnight I accepted I’d be traveling alone. The sounds of the train dulled to the methodical whiz and bump of movement over tracks. Voices, people sounds, all reduced to an occasional cough, a baby’s squawk.
The cabin glowed a deep honey yellow from the lamp on the wall.
With the sun outside gone, I’d opened the curtains, wanting to see outside. The dark wasn’t a problem for me. Darkness had never been one of my phobias. Maybe because I’d been born a twin. Spent my first months in the shade of my mother’s womb with my brother pressed up against me. Never for a moment alone in the dark.
We’d shared a room in the beginning—before he got sick—and we’d played in the darkness.
The space between my ribs ached.
I hadn’t thought about that in a while. How Josh and I would sneak around at night. Mostly me with the sneaking. Angelic by day, rat-bag by night.
I rested my temple against the window, each bump a knock on my skull. I may or may not have been responsible for the mysterious cookie disappearance phenomenon that plagued our household for years. Mostly though, I’d crawl along the floor between Josh’s bed and mine, on hands and knees, see how close I could get before he’d notice. I never did get a chance to scare him. To leap on his bed and yell Raaa . He’d always start giggling when I was about a foot away, so I’d tickle him instead.
I sighed, and unwound my bun then fluffed my hair. That giggle sounded in my mind. It hadn’t been lost when I’d blocked everything Josh out. He’d always be there. I smiled and slid on my shoes, not the sandals I’d arrived in, but heels, and left the cabin. The lights dimmed in the hallway. I tingled with energy. It was late enough now, with few enough people around, to risk a trip to the bar—and get out of that closet of a carriage before I lost my ever-loving mind.
If the bar is even still open...
I passed through the narrow passage between trains, and stepped into the lounge. I stopped in the carriage a moment, needing to take it all in. I’d rushed through the train before, looked at people, but hadn’t had a chance to really see what I’d drifted through. I ran my hand over the ornate wood frame of a padded chair.
Maroon-and-gold curtains, carpet, and upholstery—this train was a step back in time.
A few people lingered in the lounge, reading books, one guy asleep with his chin on his chest. The bar at the back of the room was empty except for the bartender.
I went to the bar, and ran my fingers over the mahogany counter.
“What can I get you?” The bartender polished a wine glass with a red cloth.
I’d never been to a bar alone. Never ordered my own drink. In fact, I’d only ever been to any kind of bar once. I studied the bartender.
Young—dark—cute.
“I’d like a Screaming Orgasm.” I managed to keep my smiling lips even.
Not sure what was even in a Screaming Orgasm—just always wanted to order one. I wanted to look a man I didn’t know in the eye and ask for something dirty.
I smiled, big and wide.
The bartender blinked. Then blinked again and set down the glass. Oh dear, he had no idea what that was. A laugh rose in my throat. Maybe he knew about Slippery Nipples, or a Pink Pussy?
“I’ll just have a vodka and cranberry.”
“Sure you wouldn’t prefer a screaming orgasm?”
The voice behind me didn’t whisper, but wasn’t loud, it spoke as intimately as if his lips pressed against my ear.
Heat swept up my middle more intensely than if I’d downed a row of shots.
“That’d be my preference.” I turned.
He came to me all at once. His touch on my waist, the sight of him—suited again as I’d always known him to be—cologne seeping from his skin directly into mine. Everything in me gave like leather when it’s relaxed just right. I’d
Only a detour.
Chapter Six
By midnight I accepted I’d be traveling alone. The sounds of the train dulled to the methodical whiz and bump of movement over tracks. Voices, people sounds, all reduced to an occasional cough, a baby’s squawk.
The cabin glowed a deep honey yellow from the lamp on the wall.
With the sun outside gone, I’d opened the curtains, wanting to see outside. The dark wasn’t a problem for me. Darkness had never been one of my phobias. Maybe because I’d been born a twin. Spent my first months in the shade of my mother’s womb with my brother pressed up against me. Never for a moment alone in the dark.
We’d shared a room in the beginning—before he got sick—and we’d played in the darkness.
The space between my ribs ached.
I hadn’t thought about that in a while. How Josh and I would sneak around at night. Mostly me with the sneaking. Angelic by day, rat-bag by night.
I rested my temple against the window, each bump a knock on my skull. I may or may not have been responsible for the mysterious cookie disappearance phenomenon that plagued our household for years. Mostly though, I’d crawl along the floor between Josh’s bed and mine, on hands and knees, see how close I could get before he’d notice. I never did get a chance to scare him. To leap on his bed and yell Raaa . He’d always start giggling when I was about a foot away, so I’d tickle him instead.
I sighed, and unwound my bun then fluffed my hair. That giggle sounded in my mind. It hadn’t been lost when I’d blocked everything Josh out. He’d always be there. I smiled and slid on my shoes, not the sandals I’d arrived in, but heels, and left the cabin. The lights dimmed in the hallway. I tingled with energy. It was late enough now, with few enough people around, to risk a trip to the bar—and get out of that closet of a carriage before I lost my ever-loving mind.
If the bar is even still open...
I passed through the narrow passage between trains, and stepped into the lounge. I stopped in the carriage a moment, needing to take it all in. I’d rushed through the train before, looked at people, but hadn’t had a chance to really see what I’d drifted through. I ran my hand over the ornate wood frame of a padded chair.
Maroon-and-gold curtains, carpet, and upholstery—this train was a step back in time.
A few people lingered in the lounge, reading books, one guy asleep with his chin on his chest. The bar at the back of the room was empty except for the bartender.
I went to the bar, and ran my fingers over the mahogany counter.
“What can I get you?” The bartender polished a wine glass with a red cloth.
I’d never been to a bar alone. Never ordered my own drink. In fact, I’d only ever been to any kind of bar once. I studied the bartender.
Young—dark—cute.
“I’d like a Screaming Orgasm.” I managed to keep my smiling lips even.
Not sure what was even in a Screaming Orgasm—just always wanted to order one. I wanted to look a man I didn’t know in the eye and ask for something dirty.
I smiled, big and wide.
The bartender blinked. Then blinked again and set down the glass. Oh dear, he had no idea what that was. A laugh rose in my throat. Maybe he knew about Slippery Nipples, or a Pink Pussy?
“I’ll just have a vodka and cranberry.”
“Sure you wouldn’t prefer a screaming orgasm?”
The voice behind me didn’t whisper, but wasn’t loud, it spoke as intimately as if his lips pressed against my ear.
Heat swept up my middle more intensely than if I’d downed a row of shots.
“That’d be my preference.” I turned.
He came to me all at once. His touch on my waist, the sight of him—suited again as I’d always known him to be—cologne seeping from his skin directly into mine. Everything in me gave like leather when it’s relaxed just right. I’d
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