Trina knew she was breaking the law by being on this train. By being in this state. She was supposed to be in the next state over. The law had said she wasn't allowed to leave it. But here she was, on the last express train at 11:20 PM, watching the clock, watching her phone nervously as the GPS dot that represented her moved closer and closer towards the state line. Forty more minutes, and she would be safe.
She had gone to visit her mother, even though her mother didn't even know who she was anymore. It had been months since the DUI, and she wanted to show her mother what she had become since the last arrest. Sober. Healthier. She had even quit smoking. She was in AA, had gained weight, had gotten a job and dumped her old loser drinking friends. It had been months since she broke a law, and what used to be a regular part of her life was now making her sweat bullets. She knew if she was caught over the state line she would be put in prison, but now she was so close.
37 minutes until she was back in her state.
She was almost alone in the train carriage. The only other person was a man across the aisle from her, dead asleep with his hat over his face.
32 minutes and the train stopped at the next station. No one got on, except a bored man in uniform who checked her ticket without even glancing at her face. She stared at her open book as he woke up the sleeping man to ask for his ticket, but she couldn't focus on the words. The uniformed man got off, and the train slowly started back up again like it had never stopped, but this time without the man's snores.
30 minutes, and she turned a page. She could feel the once sleeping man staring at her, but she didn't turn her head to look at him.
29 minutes.
She jumped slightly as the man sat down next her. She hadn't even heard him get up, and suddenly he was in her space, and before she could stop herself she turned to look at him. He looked vaguely familiar, but she didn't know why. His dark eyes were drilling holes into her, and his black hair was pushed away from his sharply defined place. He was wearing a t-shirt despite the chill on the train, and she saw tattooed biceps bulging under the thin material.
"Bad girl," he said softly, and a chill ran down her spine at his words and the glee he had said them with. "Bad, bad girl, Trina."
"Do I know you?" she asked, trying to sound more confident than she felt. He tore his eyes away from her, looking forward with a small smirk.
" 'Hi, I'm Trina and I'm an alcoholic'," he said in a cruel impression of her high voice. " 'I'm on probation and I can't leave the state'."
Her blood ran cold. AA. She knew him from AA. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she couldn't think of anything to say to him.
"Once a bad girl, always a bad girl, huh Trina?" he asked. He had stopped impersonating her now, and his deep voice washed over like a bad dream.
"I'm not-" she managed to choke out, and he just laughed. His huge hand drifted over to her knee, and even as she shrunk away from him he squeezed her thigh.
"I've heard you speak in AA," he reminded her quietly. "I know what you used to get up to. Such a bad girl. Letting those men climb all over you for a drink or a place to sleep."
"I don't do that anymore," Trina said desperately. His hand was moving up her thigh, and his large body was blocking her in, trapping her against the window and the back of her seat. "I'm not like that anymore. I'm sober now."
"You can take the alcohol out of a slut, but a slut is still a slut," he told her, still smirking. "You told those stories about those pathetic men in AA who would pump into you like you were ashamed, but we both know that you loved it."
"No," she denied, trying to squirm away, but she was trapped, there was nowhere to go and his hand was moving further up, it wouldn't be long until he ran out of thigh.
"You look so much better now to, with that extra weight," he said. "Back then you were so skinny and sick looking, but I still got hard when you told us about waking up to men you didn't know raping your slutty little cunt. You wanted me to get hard, didn't you? You were just teasing the room."
"No," she said again.
"So skinny back then," he said, almost to himself. "You didn't have these yet."
His hand left her thigh, but only because it had moved up. She grabbing the bottom of her shirt but it was too late, he was roughly yanking it up and he was stronger than her. Her pale pink bra was revealed.
"Still small," he said critically. But that didn't stop him from pushing the bra up to, grabbing her wrists in one hand to stop her fighting him. Her breasts were now in the open, her nipples hardening in the cool air. With the hand that wasn't holding her wrists captive, he began to maul at her exposed breasts, cruelly squeezing and pulling her nipples until she was gasping in pain.
"Is this getting you wet?" he asked her.
19 minutes to the border.
It was the first time she had been touched since she got sober, something she realized with dawning horror as he shifted to trap one of her legs between his body and the train seat, forcing them open and straddled around him. Her wrists and leg were now caught, and there was nothing to stop him as he rammed his hand up her skirt, going straight for what he wanted.
There was no gentleness as he shoved her panties aside and started to paw at her exposed pussy, but there was also no pain as he slid two fingers inside of her, his passage made easy by the moisture spilling out of her.
"What did I say?" he said softly. "Look how fucking wet you are."
His fingers were pumping quickly, and she could hear it, hear her own wetness.
"You fucking slut," he chuckled. "Trying to tell me that you've changed when you're gushing for me. You think you can change? Well, maybe you can, but this cunt can't. This is a whore's cunt."
"No," she told him, but she was starting to struggle for breath. It was both panic, and the feeling of her body betraying her, starting to give into his manipulations as he skillfully ran his fingertip over her rough g-spot again and again with every pump.
"No?" he laughed. "Do you see this?"
