Sexy Six

“The next and last stop on this train will be Brooklyn Bridge,” the garbled voice of the subway sputtered.

I smiled mischievously at him.

We’d been fighting, recently. What would have been usual for most couples was unusual for us. The stress of him being promoted to Senior Manager was co-mingling with our newly established co-habitation to create a tension we were ill-equipped to alleviate.

As the doors opened and the last spray of passengers disembarked, I pushed him firmly into the two-person purple seat on the refurbished 6-train. Grabbing his thick black hair, I yanked his head back and thrust my face firmly into his unleashing a provocative kiss.

He didn’t fight me. He didn’t protest. He wasn’t alarmed by the closing doors.

Just as the train pulled out of the Downtown station to loop around to the Uptown side, I hiked up my flowing orange skirt and straddled him; my knees felt cold against the hard seat. Before he could utter dissent, I reached down and unzipped his trousers, my tongue drawing X’s on his—distracting him—as I pulled him inside me. I bucked as the train rocked.

Our bodies were locked as the 6 train skidded around the first precarious, dimly-lit bend pulling past the carcass of a former station; around the horseshoe towards the lights of a breathing station.

My body tightened as I realized the brevity of the ride. He responded to my stiffness, wrapping his arms around my waist, soothing my tension with his fingers—playing his song into me. His encouragement to get me focused on us—to stay in the present moment—failed. I lost my nerve.

I jumped off him suddenly, straightening my skirt, instinctively raking my fingers through the mass of curls on my head. He looked up at me quizzically. Sitting in the seat with his hair tousled and his pants undone he looked as vulnerable as I’d ever seen him. His velvety brown eyes melted mine as he stood up and zipped back up. I couldn’t tell if he felt rebuffed or relieved.

“Are you mad?” I asked, tentatively, as the doors opened.“Mad at you? No, why?”

“I dunno. I just thought you might be mad. Forget it.” I muttered, embarrassed.

“Why would I be mad? I have the coolest girlfriend in the whole world. How many people actually do it on the 6 train?” His smile was as wide as his pride.

“Did we really do it though? Does that count?”

“Oh, it counts if we make it count. I say it counts! What do you say?”

I knew he wasn’t just talking about the train.

I smiled back, relieved, “We are going to make it count!”