sorry.”
“Cancer,” he said. “Stomach.”
“Oh,” she said.
“You don’t want to hear this.”
“No,” she said, “I don’t.”
“I’d like to kiss you,” he said.
“Not in public.”
“Where else would we kiss on a train?”
“We could always squeeze into a bathroom.”
“Really?”
“You’re not as naive as you act,” she said.
“I never picked up anyone on a train,” he confessed.
“No? It’s fun. Right?”
“What?”
She leaned forward. “Isn’t this fun?”
“It is,” he said.
She whispered, “Wish to go into the bathroom, my dear?”
He said, “Yes.”
She took his hand, and led him into the women’s restroom. Once in, she pushed him against the wall, his face hitting it. She locked the door. He turned around. She slapped him across the face “Kiss me,” she said, “you dirty pervert.”
She grabbed his head, and brought their mouths together.
“It’s so cramped in here,” Andrew said.
“Yeah.” Sharon got down on her knees. She undid his trousers, pulling them down, as well as his boxers. His thin, curved cock sprang in front of her face. It stank of sweat. She took it in her mouth. She was afraid he was going to come fast. She got up, pulled her skirt up and leaned against the sink.
“No underwear,” he said.
“You noticed.”
He saw the tampon string dangling out of her. “Um.”
“Hurry,” she said, “fuck me.”
He grabbed her hips, and shoved his cock into her. It was all very fast. There was blood.
They exited the restroom and didn’t say a word to each other, didn’t look at each other, went their separate ways.
She found Gerald and sat down next to him.
He ignored her the rest of the way to Chicago.
She felt like a dirty, skanky slut and she liked it.
THE END OF CELIBACY
Hannah had a quirky look to her I found appealing—thick, dark-rimmed glasses; a white streak in her otherwise jet black hair; an odd-assortment of attire, cool in this age of the awkward. She was one of the regulars who hung out at the pub down the street from my apartment. Some friends were playing pool, which wasn’t my thing. Hannah bought a pitcher of beer and we sat together.
A guy was bending, ready to take a shot at the table, his rear end very close to us. “Get your butt somewhere else,” Hannah said, “or I’ll take a pool stick and shove it up”
“That’s not very nice,” I said. “How’d you like it if someone stuck a pool stick in your ass?”
Hannah raised her brows. “I just might like it.”
That was the first clue I didn’t get—I wasn’t paying attention. I’d recall in hindsight, yes, as well as overhearing her talk about how her favorite scene in Last Tango in Paris was when Marlon Brando put butter up his young lover’s backdoor before sodomizing her.
Soon the beer was gone.
“What will you do now?” Hannah said.
“Don’t know,” I said.
She took her glasses off and looked at them. “I live a block away, you know.”
“No,” I said, “I didn’t know. So do I.”
This was the second clue—and I wasn’t paying attention.
“Well,” she said.
“Maybe we can go there,” I said.
She put her glasses back on. “Okay.”
We walked up the block to her place, a small cottage. It was nice, a little messy. I asked how much she paid for it.
“Nothing,” she said. “My parents own the property.”
“Nice.”
“I have beer, I think,” she said, going to the kitchen.
I sat on the couch in the small living room.
Hannah returned with two Budweisers. “Yes, I have beer.”
She sat next to me.
I don’t remember what we talked about. On the floor, I noticed an action figure of the Warner Brothers Martian from the Bugs Bunny cartoon. “I always loved that Martian,” I said.
“Me too,” she said, going to the floor and picking it up. “Marvin the Martian. ‘I’m going to destroy planet Earth!’” I touched her hair. She put her head in my lap. It was nice to touch somebody.
“I, um, I don’t know what to do,” I said.
“What?”
“I haven’t been with anyone in a while.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true.”
“It’s a line,” she said. “Do you like me?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I like you.” She got on the couch with me and we began to kiss. She had to take her glasses off, they were getting in the way. We kissed for a long time. She pushed me back on the couch, and lay on top of me. I grabbed her ass, put my hands down her skirt.
She pulled her mouth from mine. “Bad boy,” she said.
I grabbed her head, and we kissed more.
When I tried to touch her cunt, she stopped me.
“No,” she said.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, and we kissed.
When I touched her breasts over the fabric of her blouse, she pushed
