Dirty On The Subway
Red Line, 8:39PM
I had been followin' him all day; uptown, downtown, in and out of various shoppes, still nothin' seemed to slow him down. Didn't know if he knew I was behind him, or if he just didn't care. Either way, I wasn't about to let him out of my sight, minus the hour and forty-five minutes that he lost me in the middle of the department store. Now, here we are, on the same subway, in the same car but at opposite ends.
The car was scattered with a handful of people, other than ourselves. A punk kid with chains rattlin' down one side of his black leather pantleg and a high pink mohawk flipped and toyed with his small switchblade as he made little to no eye contact with anyone else. Another, was an old bag woman whom appeared to be in her late 100s or early 70s. Finally, the pair of drunks passed out on the bench across from me, reekin' of stale beer and vomit. At any given moment, their faces and poses would change as the lights inside the car flickered.
He sat at the far end, opposite the tarmack benches, poised but relaxed in his perfect posture. His legs were crossed right over left, arms folded and head down, staring at the scuffed and dirty floor of the long car. Everytime he inhaled, he took long breaths of air as if he was trying to smell somethin' beyond the stench of the car and tunnel. His long, slender leg bounced in the air as the car rocked slightly.
At the next interval of flickering darkness, I turned to glance over at him and found him a few seats closer to me, still on the opposite row. His position had changed to him leanin' forward and restin' on his palms that hung off the edge of the plastic bench. His long, thin body moved effortlessly as the car jerked and rocked. Blue jeans and red, tucked in short-sleeved shirt didn't quite give him the professional look but he must have counted on blending in, tryin' to lose me in the big city. Yea, his stunt in the fancy Carlton restaurant was nothin' to write home about. It's not like he knew the bathrooms were around the corner from the Fire Exit.
When the lights flickered for the fourth time in five minutes, I looked up from the two drunks to see him sittin' at the far end of my bench, arm propped on the bar to his right, head turned to look at the old bag woman who had seemin'ly fallen asleep clutchin' her bags of junk. Another flicker and he was right beside me, starin' at me with a damned handsome smile on his perfectly smooth face.
I turned to casually glance over at him and started to ask if there was somethin' I could do for him but just about that time, the car went dark for another time, lingerin' there, in a state of darkness for a good minute or two. His red eyes glowed and blinked as they sank lower and lower on the seat. I heard my zipper lower and felt a slight draft and then wet warmth with a suckin' feelin'.
The lights flickered on and he was gone from my side and back over to his original seat, at the far end of the car opposite the punk with the cotton candy mohawk. The car came to a stop a short time later and the announcement was made over the speaker for everyone to get off. He had been one of the first to exit the car and of the 20somethin' drunks and assorted nuts on the platform, he was nowhere in sight.
Looked in both directions but chose to walk towards the 6th Street stairwell. Dodgin' drunks and punk kids with their "tough guy" attitudes and costume shop leathers, my eye caught sight of his red shirt and auburn hair. He had been a few strides in front of me, usin' ladies with full department store bags as a buffer between us. Each time I zigged from behind a punk with a boombox, I zagged from a drunk clutchin' his favourite paperbag molded around an empty bottle of booze. when I looked up for him again, he was gone.
I stopped in the middle of the platform and sighed annoyedly at this elusive creature. But, in lookin' around the area, I found a dark culvert and the same glowin' red eyes, starin' at me. Not resistin' the smile my mouth formed, I casually made my way over to him clutched his left arm to drag him back to the back of the culvert and press my lips to his.
After that, well-- you might be a little too young for those details so,......