Swim Butterfly

Our Own Terms

Penn Station buzzes with people of all sorts; beautiful, homely, dark, light, manly women, men in dresses. I have to say that I love the sea of ever-changing faces, despite my abhorrence of crushing crowds, an experience both exciting

and

nauseating. Jimmy walks a few paces ahead, to the ticket counter. I feel as if we still stroll arm-in-arm. Occasionally, he turns his head to the side, looks out the corner of his eye, and smiles slightly.

He purchases a ticket, lucky the train still has seats available, and finds the gate. We queue with the other passengers, my fingers trembling when I take out my railroad spouse pass. I have the pass through my husband. My last name comes from my husband. All my current income comes from my husband. What am I in a pair of shoes anymore? Jimmy turns a little and looks at me. I flash him a quick smile. He narrows his eyes, the corner of his mouth curls, and he turns back around.

I show my pass and ID to the ticket lady, and she nods to let me through. I head down the stairs to the breezy platform, Jimmy still a few feet ahead of me. We walk about halfway down the platform, then stop. I huddle next to a pole, and Jimmy wanders with his hands in his pockets and the red blanket gathered loosely at his wrist. He seems to survey everything, yet nothing in particular.

I wander in the opposite direction, keeping an eye on him just the same. I notice a few women checking him out, and a couple of guys, too. So, it's not just me. No one with eyes like his would go unnoticed and I smile,

I've had him, and I didn't have to pay for him.

He wanted

me.

Me. Slowly turning in his meandering way, he makes brief eye contact, but continues 'to be a stranger'. He's thrown the ball in my court, but I don't know what to do next. I turn away, cupping my hand around the side of my neck, resting my head. Sometimes the best thing to do is nothing. Something will happen anyway.

The klang-klang of the train reverberates throughout the underground and greedy pig-people crowd the edge of the platform, as if the train will suddenly sprint away and leave them. I hang back and see Jimmy from the corner of my eye. He's talking to a beautiful, dark-haired older woman wearing large gold earrings and necklaces. I watch him smiling, nodding, laughing as she seems to tease him along to some conclusion that won't culminate before they board the train. I have to stop watching and find the conductor to ask permission to ride the train. The blue-capped conductor nods quickly, and I board, glancing down through the gap at the heavy wheels of the train.

Thankfully, I find an empty table in the café car. My phone lacks any new messages, but the signal is weak in the subterranean station, so who knows? I adjust my dress, settle back into my seat, and take a quick look around the café car. I wonder if Jimmy got on after all, and feel a little irked that he talked to that woman. But I don't own him and I'm well aware of what he does. Looking at my reflection in the window, I remind myself not to invite Envy to this table.

A loud ding and the doors shut. The train lurches and slowly moves forward. The air stings my eyes--

Pete's going to kill me.

Shh, Pete need never find out. But what if he does? I stare into the reflection of my wide, dark eyes until the train emerges from the black tunnel into the early evening light. Still no Jimmy. I allow myself one more darting look around. Just people with their noses planted in laptops or ear buds planted in their ears, or both. A few customers, feet planted firmly on the floor, waver by the café counter, ordering coffees or beers or pretzels.

I have my pass and ID ready for the conductor and stutter, "Ph-Philadelphia, please."

My face flushes. The conductor gives me a ticket with a couple of little holes punched out and continues through the café car, and I suppose, though the next car, and the next. I sigh and start thinking about June and Rudy, wondering what they did all day besides school. I envision my kitchen table, covered in crumbs, remnants of snacks and dinner. If Pete even remembered to feed them. Scraps of paper, wrappers, and crayons; the sink full of dishes; laundry overflowing the hamper. That's how I'll wrap up my day. I'll yap a couple of lines about the gallery and about lunch--

'The museum? Yeah, it was okay. Weird stuff. I ate at Fortune House, some kind of noodle restaurant nearby. Then, you know, I just sort of wandered around for a while.'

That's more than I'll need to offer before Pete's eyes glaze. Doff my shoes, start the dishes, check my left hand to make sure my wedding band is still on. Not that I would take it off; I won't pretend I'm not married, but perchance it slipped off in a bathtub, or fell down the gap between the platform and the train.

"Excuse me, may I sit here?" a voice makes me jump. Jimmy,

fucker!

MIA twenty minutes.

I make a grand sweep with my hand towards the seat opposite me. He sits, placing a steaming cup of coffee on the table between us. He places the silly red blanket next to him, and extends his right hand, "Hi, I'm Arseni."

A smirk crosses his face as I tentatively shake his hand.

Arseni.

I'll have to look that up when I get home. I assume it's a fake name to go along with this game, but who knows? Could be his real name. I don't recall seeing it on the STD panel he showed me earlier.

I nod, "My name's Shalimar. Nice to meet you," I notice he's got his paper ticket from the conductor. He must have been sitting elsewhere for a while.

"So, pleasant afternoon for a train ride," he states, his eyes locked on mine.

"Yes, it is." I was never good at chit-chat, but this is a game, so play! "Do you ride the trains often, Arseni?"

"No, not often, but a friend of mine in Philly left her blanket with me by accident, so I'm returning it to her," he nods towards the blanket.

"That's very big of you to travel all the way to Philadelphia to return a blanket."

"Oh, I don't mind. Not the only big thing about me," he nearly breaks character with a smirk, "She's a good friend. I don't mind doing something like this for her."

"Oh yeah? Would you do this for any friend?" I ask, brow raised.

"No."

I watch him for a moment, then say, "Well, it must be a very nice blanket."

"It is. Would you like to feel it?"

"Yes."

He passes the folded blanket to me, "It's very warm. Unfold it and spread it over your lap."

A sly smile melts across his lips. I do as he says, wondering what on Earth he's up to now. He sits up briefly, then settles back into the seat. He launches a chatty description of a bullshit job in Manhattan, and when his shoeless toe brushes my ankle I nearly jump, and try not to giggle as his foot traces its way up my calf, along the insides of my knees, and finally, when his foot can go no further, he starts slowly teasing me with his toes as he tells me about how one café near his apartment has better coffee than the other, but the other has a better atmosphere,

blah, blah, blah.

I press my hands flat down on the table, palms sweating. During his dull conversation, I take deep, steady breaths, clenching my teeth, then wiggle my finger towards the coffee.

"Oh, yes, ma'am, you may have a sip. I'm sorry, I should get you a cup," Jimmy cheerfully banters.

"No," I whisper, shaking my head and clamping his foot between my legs. He shuts up and smiles. I don't want him to get up, ever.

"Drink as much as you like. There's always more," he coos, teasing my clit. I take a breath, then try to get the hot coffee to my lips without dribbling.

Now that's a great cup of coffee!

Shut up, Caroline, or you'll choke on it!

The coffee nearly spits out of my mouth and back into the cup. I can't laugh, I can't cry out. Wetness creeps through my panties, and I guess I should have worn a cum-catcher, but now I'm glad I didn't. Imagining the wetness soaking the toe of his sock makes me shudder, but gets me wetter just the same.

"So, Shalimar," he presses deeper, "what do you do for fun?"

I bite my lip, then look to the sky, my hair tickling my neck. I take a deep breath, exhale, and reply, "Roller skating. Skydiving. Dive for sunken treasure. Hmm, I write novels, raise racehorses, tend my flower garden." I smile so wide my cheeks could hurt.

"My, I would have guessed your life was much more exciting than that," he says, voice lowered and leaning towards me. He presses his foot harder into me, the sensation not quite a flutter, but something you want to unplug, yet don't want to unplug; pleasurable and painful. I'm almost angry that no one comes to my rescue, but no one seems to notice as his leg must be well-hidden by the table and the blanket, and what would anyone say anyway? 'Stop toe-fucking!'? And I can't move with him the way I want. It's a peculiar form of torture.

With a shaky hand, I set the coffee down. "Thank you." I struggle to keep my voice audible. His fingers brush mine as he takes the cup and a sip. He's quiet, taking his turn to gaze out the window, then at me, "No problem, Shalimar. It's nice to share sometimes."

The train slows as it approaches Trenton. As it creeps along and people sidle up to the platform, Jimmy straightens himself up and withdraws his foot, with a wrinkle of his nose. He wiggles around a little. I assume he's slipping on his shoe.

"Well Shallie, shall we make room for other passengers? Do you mind if I sit next to you?"

"If you really must, Arseni, I can scooch over a foot or two." I smile, tilting my head as he rounds the table and slides in next to me. He rests his right arm on the back of the seat behind my head.

"Would you like to share the blanket?" I ask.

"Do you feel comfortable doing that?" He leans close to my ear, "I don't mean to impose."

I lift the left side of the blanket. He takes it and puts it over his leg, his left hand wandering underneath and resting on my thigh. Now I feel at home. I lean into Jimmy. He twirls a strand of my hair with his right hand finger, then rests his arm around my shoulders. Game time over. We can be us again.

"Did you see anyone you know?" he asks.

"No, did you?" I turn to look at him straight on.

He smiles slightly, nodding, "No, but I made a new acquaintance."

"Oh. Was she upset when you left?"

"No, I don't think so. I told her I was meeting a friend on the train. She understood."

"Ok, good. I don't want to impede your livelihood."

He gives me a quick kiss above the ear and we sit silently while the Trenton passengers board. As the train resumes its journey, I break the silence, "So, who started the conversation? You or she?"

"Shh...," he squeezes me around the shoulders and my thigh at the same time. Anywhere else in this world I would tug him to the nearest bedroom, but I can't do anything here. I worry I'll have a wet spot on the back of my dress, which at least is a dark color, but still I don't need to attract attention to myself.

The lenient light of dusk has since succumbed to darkness, and now staring out the window means staring at our own reflections, kind of like Jimmy's glasses, only now he's in the reflection, too. I wish I could turn down the lights, but I can't in the bustling café car.

I turn a little to face Jimmy, hiking my left thigh up a little to rest against his leg. I pull the handy blanket up further, so his warm, curious hand can travel further up. The friction leaves a tingling path, like a shimmering bioluminescent trail in the water.

He turns towards me more and stops his hand just before it reaches There. He leaves his hand close, then sighs, retracting his hand and placing it on top of the blanket. An older man wearing a tweed jacket and carrying a book approaches and sits in the seat across from us. If I were that man, I wouldn't be able to concentrate on the book before me. Maybe he just pretends to read, while his imagination whips up a story of its own. I mean, how carefully do we ever really read someone else's books?

We spend the remaining ride holding each other, lulled by the rhythm of the train. The longer I ride like this, the heavier I feel,

Please don't let this be the end.

Jimmy leans heavily on me, "I'll miss you." Taking my right hand and slowly rotating the copper dragon ring on my finger, he raises my hand, kisses the ring, then kisses me on the lips. His large eyes lack their usual sparkle. He leans into my ear, "I love you."

Damn it, that's it! I hiccup, and the stupid tears trickle down my cheeks. Tweed Jacket glances at us from beneath his bushy eyebrows.

Jimmy holds my face in his hands while my heart falls in my stomach, "Promise me you won't love anyone else, I mean, I know you're married, I know you love Pete--you have to, in your own way, and that's fine, but promise me, no one else besides him, and me."

I sniff, then laugh, "Geez, I couldn't! I'm not

that

randy!"

"I'm serious. If you ever meet anyone else, if you're done with me, please just tell me."

"Jimmy, I will, but I really don't imagine being done with you anytime soon. I wouldn't knowingly do anything to hurt or disrespect you, and most of all, I think of you as a friend. All the rest is wild and wonderful, but you know, I don't think that's the heart of it. I think you and I can figure out our own terms, our own relationship, somehow."

Jimmy smiles and gives me another squeeze. "Yes, good. That's what I want."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the dark-haired woman at the far end of the café counter, watching us.

***

The train rounds a few bends and the conductor announces, "Phiiil-adel-phia!... Philadelphia! Next stop!" I sigh and look at Jimmy, "We should say bye here. Too many people who might recognize me at this station."

He brushes a thumb across my eyebrow and nods. We kiss quickly and ride out the remaining minutes in close silence. As the train comes to a halt, Jimmy whispers in my ear, "Keep in touch."

I frown and tilt my head. "Of course I will!"

We peel ourselves off the vinyl seat, and Jimmy says, "It's gonna be chilly. Keep this," draping the blanket around my shoulders. I smile and pull it close around my neck.

After we step off the train, we split up, but I know he's still a few steps behind me on the stairs from the platform to the main concourse. The stairs to NJ Transit descend to the platform across the station.

Don't look back!

As long as I don't turn around, Jimmy can't see the tears which I let air-dry instead of rubbing my eyes red and raw. Too close to home.

I wait alone on the train platform back to New Jersey. The corners of the red blanket that hangs on my shoulders flirt with the backs of my hands, waving bye to Jimmy for me.