The homeless man trying to nap on the platform gave her a curious look when she failed to get on the third consecutive train that passed by. She stood back against the wall, out of the rush of commuters trying not to look anxious, like she was waiting for someone. She held a trade paperback loosely in her hands and tried to concentrate on draining her face of any trace of expectation.
Suddenly, he was beside her. They had only met in person once before, but she knew without looking that it was him. He was standing a fraction of an inch too close to be a stranger and she remembered his scent. Plus he had the sexiest hands she'd seen in a long time: strong and cuffed by heavy watch. She could no more stifle the smile that slid across her lips than slow down the butterflies banging about her rib-cage. But, she remembered the rules to this game: no speaking. So while her heart sped up and her body commenced a low buzzing, she stayed still, eyes down on the paperback.
He stooped down beside her to tie his shoe, letting the bag he carried rest on the ground. As he went to right himself, only the most astute observer would have noticed the knuckle of his index finger reach out and bush along the outside of her calf and thigh. Bringing himself up to stand he took a step away, took out his phone and proceeded to wait with the hundreds of others for the next train.
She stole glances of his partial profile and tanned arms. She remembered the way his mouth moved across the table from her at the small cafe over the previous weekend. His smile and the easy way he spoke, how he would push forward in his seat when he got excited. She had been ready to invite him back to her place after that meeting, and she knew he was tempted. But when she asked if he wanted to get some food he had leaned across the table, without touching her, and asked is she was half as hungry as he was.
She had blushed furiously and stammered something about her place being very nearby.
"I have an idea", he had said. "Would you like to see my place?"
She bit her lip. "Sure," she whispered.
"In three days," he said. "And there are rules."
She listened as he explained where to be when. How he would find her and she would follow him home, without ever giving any indication that they knew one another. It would be an adventure and she wasn't to speak until she was given permission.
And so here she was, waiting for a train she never took and stealing glances at this man she barely knew.
She still had goose bumps where he'd trailed his finger along her skin.
Moments later the train rumbled into the station and they both stepped into the car. She took a seat by the door. She took her book back out and after locating her target a couple yards away, went back to pretending not to notice him. She smiled at the toddler across the car just as her phone pinged to life.
"I'm going to do terrible things to you tonight."
She bit her lip to hold back the gasp that tried to escape. Another message followed immediately.
"Starting with that sweet little mouth of yours."
She didn't dare look at him. Instead she took a deep breath and tried to still her restless body. She wondered if people could feel the need radiating off her in waves. She could almost taste the heat coming across the distance from him to her. She hid her tight fists in the folds of her full skirt and closed her eyes as they blew through another stop. She closed her eyes and tried to focus.
Soon she heard him clear his throat and move to put his phone back into his bag. At the next stop he stepped through the exit. She followed a few people behind him. She had to bob and weave a bit to keep him in her sights as he exited the station, along with hundreds of others. He made his way out and started walking into the residential part of the neighborhood. The area of the city was new to her so it was hard not take in all the details of the path they walked. She heard him humming to himself a dozen yards ahead. In a handful of blocks he paused before a small apartment building, checking for mail. While he did so, she texted the address to a friend. He made his way to the front door, opened it and moved inside, leaving the door open. Once inside, he moved smoothly up a flight of stairs where he unlocked another door into his own apartment. Again, he entered leaving the door open behind him.
Her eyes moved everywhere once inside, taking in his personal space. She slipped her shoes off without being asked immediately inside and gently closed the door. He caught her attention very quickly when, without looking back at her, he snapped his fingers and pointed into a doorway to the left. She stepped inside and heard the door close quietly behind her. She was alone, although she could hear him moving around just outside: dropping his keys, kicking off his shoes. Then a tap running somewhere.
His room was small and dim, but not dark. There was still light outside coming in through the window with a view down to the street they had just come up. The bed was made and the room was cozy. It looked lived in, but tidy. Books along the floor and a closet with no door. She hung her bag and coat on the doorknob and smiled: nothing to lose by looking around a bit. She started with the books. Tucked inside a fair number of them were postcards, airline ticket stubs, scribbled notes, all vestiges of other adventures. She had her nose buried in a well-loved copy of 'On the Road' when a scuffling sound broke her focus.
A small white card had been slipped under the door. Facing up he had written, "Just the scent of your body on that platform made me hard." As she flipped the card over she read, "I want that smell all over my sheets."
She couldn't help but giggle.
Through the door, "Are you blushing?"
"No," she whispered faintly.
"Liar," came his response.
She heard his footsteps move away from the door and then what had to be kitchen noises: plates rattling and the tick-tick-tick of a gas burner turning on.
