I hope you enjoy this new story. A bit of a ramble at first, but that's how it came out - and I like the sex. Please leave a comment or a vote: it's very encouraging!
*****
She was running, hard. Southon could see her effort written on her face while her little dark blue suitcase bounced and jumped behind her, its wheels hopelessly unsuited for the job. Clearly she was used to running, but the twist of her shoulders from the suitcase was spoiling her step. The sun glinted on her dark hair and the chrome on her case.
She got to the end of the road. From there it was a confusing array of ramps and stairs down to the ferry wharf. She dragged the unwilling case along the ramps, over steps and onto the pontoon. The wind played with her hair.
Southon was leaning on the gunwale, the handrail of the boat, watching this with some concern. If she misses this ferry it's half an hour before the next one, he thought. He looked over to the deckhand, but he had already seen her. He called to the skipper up on the bridge. He was waiting for her - as were a few of the other passengers. The deckhand's rope creaked as he held it taut, binding the ferry to the pontoon. The boat's engines grumbled, as if impatient to leave.
She made it. Grinning triumphantly she clattered over the gangway and onto the ferry. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, even raising a few cheers here and there, a small victory for all of them. The deckhand expertly flicked the rope clear of the pontoon. As the woman slowed down and stepped off the gangway, her dark blue suitcase slipped off the edge, yanking her over towards the young man watching from the gunwale. She cried out - more in surprise than anything else - as she stumbled, just as the engines roared into action and the ferry swung away towards the open water.
Southon had a strange sense of time slowing down. He saw the stumble and the fall, just as he felt the diesels rumbling under the deck. He saw her coming towards him, but he was also aware of the motion of the boat making him less steady on his feet. He braced himself and bent his knees slightly.
She crashed into him in a flurry of dark hair, but he had his arms ready and he held her firmly as the boat rocked on its way.
Time was still slowed down, but the moment swung slightly, from saving the woman to the impression of her. Southon's first thought was her weight. While not at all a big person, he was surprised at the effort of completely supporting someone. At the same time he was aware of a softness, of curves under the jacket and outdoor clothing, of her breathing. The suitcase bumped hard against his leg.
Then the hair caught him. The breeze off the water and the swinging ferry tousled the dark strands across her face and his own. It had the faint scent of shampoo, and sunlight, mixing with a salty tang from the water. It tickled. He'd never come across anything like it in his life.
The woman tidied her hair back from her face and curled it around one ear. It allowed Southon to her face clearly. She was actually older than he'd first thought - not that he'd really thought about her age, but now he saw the fine lines on her face. Her face was attractive, a strong face, not a classically slim, "feminine" face. Her skin was slightly darker than his Anglo colouring, even with a tan. She had a generous smile and soft lips, but it was her eyes that arrested him. They were big, dark pools, slightly slanted, with maybe some Chinese ancestry, or Pacific Islander, that held him as if by magic. She wore mascara and eyeliner that further enhanced her gaze. She seemed to look right into him.
"Thanks! Thanks awfully - for a moment there I thought I was going to end up in the drink!" She surprised Southon with her English accent and choice of words. He could only stammer a halting "it was nothing" as she stood up, straightened herself out and found her suitcase. Cheerily she thanked him again and went off to find a seat, leaving him still standing there.
Southon was confused and embarrassed, so he turned to watch the river traffic. But the vision of her face looking up at him, framed by her thick black hair, with that smile and those eyes, plus the curves he felt, it wouldn't leave him.
It was not a long trip through the harbour, then a short bus ride to Hamilton station. Southon couldn't stop thinking of her, of things he could have said, of ways to make a conversation. He was normally able to at least speak sensibly to girls - even if they mystified him. He could treat them with respect, something they appreciated as a rule. He had such mixed feelings about them, so he hadn't felt close to many, or any in fact. He had lots of romantic (and quite explicit) fantasies, but how to achieve them, or even establish a relationship, that had eluded him.
Pondering his enthusiastic but virginal state, he walked up and into the station. Idly he stared across the tracks at the other platform, much busier than his side. Many people had cases and bags; a good few had the famous cheap plaid carry-alls, wrapped around with straps, since the zips were equally famous for failing.
He noticed the woman again, with her dark blue suitcase, looking at him quizzically. He'd somehow missed her on the ferry and in the bus, so it was another surprise to see her. She pointed down the line and cocked her head, asking the question. There was a far-off sound of train wheels on steel tracks.
With a start Southon realised he was on the wrong platform. The crowd with the luggage opposite were on their way to Sydney obviously. So was he, but not on this side of the tracks. He frantically grabbed his bag and sprinted to the exit. The Sydney train rolled into the station.
The boom gates were down, their lights winking and the bells ringing urgently. The way was blocked. Luckily there was a new bridge over the tracks and he took the steps two, three at a time. He clattered down the far side and onto the platform, which was now empty. Some announcement warned everyone to keep clear of the doors.
The woman was there, in the doorway, keeping it open by standing in the way. She had the same triumphant grin she'd worn on the ferry as Southon leapt past her and into the carriage. He had the advantage of a more stable landing, so he managed to keep his feet. She clapped her hands for joy.
"Bravo! That was brilliant!" The English lilt again. "I saw you across the way there and I thought to myself, 'I wonder if he's got the right platform?' I'm ever so glad you twigged. That was a fantastic run, by the way! Bravo again! And bravo to me for holding the train and repaying the favour!" She was plainly delighted by the whole thing.
Southon made a better attempt this second time. "Thanks a lot for that. I appreciate it. If I'd missed that train I'd have definitely missed my connection at Central."
"You're going on? Where to?"
"Melbourne. As it is, it'll be close, but you've made the difference between definitely missing it, and maybe catching it."
Her face fell slightly. "That's a bit worrying. I'm going on that train too. I thought it would be OK."
"Normally, yes. But there's a lot of trackwork, so we may be held up. But at least there's a good view along the way." And good company if I can stay with you, he thought to himself.
"Yes, I looked it all up!" I'm keen to see it. If you know this line, perhaps you'd care to join me?" Oh yes, I'd love to join you.
It was a double-decker train, so it was obvious to go upstairs to get the best view (the promenade deck, she called it).
