In A Lifetime:
Once
A crowded city train, cramped, dirty and with no room to move and no space to breathe.
A Friday night where everyone was tired and grumpy and just wanting to go home.
Squeezed between a mean looking middle-aged lady with a pinched nose and a too tight bun and a fat, pudgy fifty-year old man whose stomach kept on grumbling, Joey Potter resigned herself to the horrors of a Friday night train ride home. The sophisticated chignon was now loosely held together with stray tendrils falling everywhere. Her lipstick was smudged and almost gone. Her makeup was old and Joey’s face felt grimy and dirty. There was a run in her stocking and her feet hurt from standing too long on ridiculously high heels. Her skirt felt too short and several buttons of her shirt had gone undone whilst sweat trickled and gleamed alluring down the valley of Joey Potter’s chest.
She could feel eyes on her. That uncomfortable, uncanny feeling when you just know that someone is staring at you.
Slowly without trying to be too obvious, Joey turned her head and found herself entranced. She smiled a little shyly and then ducked her head before sneaking another glance at the man. The train jolted to a stop and some people moved blocking her view. When the space had cleared and the people were gone, so was the man.
*****
The train doors were closed but the train wasn’t moving. The train had not been moving for over ten minutes now. Everyone was getting grumpy and irate and Joey simply wasn’t in the mood to be stuck in a train for an inordinate amount of time when all she wanted to do was go home, shower and get some much deserved rest. The train still wasn’t moving and people were yelling. Already there were rumors that someone had jumped off the platform and committed suicide, that there had been a bomb threat, terrorists or a fire.
The speakers crackled alive and a voice announced that there had been an unexpected delay. Most likely the train would remain stationary for approximately fifteen minutes. The train doors opened giving people the option of finding other forms of transportation. After a moment of debate Joey exited the train and decided a taxi might be the better choice. Unfortunately it appeared that several other passengers had the same idea and Joey found herself shoved out the way, standing alone on the pavement without a taxi in sight.
Luminescent blue lights signaled a small, cheap looking pub across the street from the station. Joey was tired, her feet hurt and a drink seemed like a very good idea at the moment. She crossed the street and entered the pub.
It was one of those pubs, situated in the outskirts of the city, cheap but clean with upstairs rooms to rent. The clientele were loud but not too boisterous, relatively decent looking folk although no fancy business people here. The place wasn’t packed nor was it empty. Joey took a seat at the bar and ordered a Corona Light. The beer was perfectly satisfying and Joey felt herself relaxing somewhat. She concentrated on her drink and not on the people around her.
“Another of the same thanks Bob.”
A man ordered. Joey felt the slight brush of his arm as he leaned across the table to grab his beer. She turned, by instinct, and met the deepest blue eyes. Deep, soulful blue eyes that belonged to the man from the train. Joey inhaled and held her breath.
“You got everything Witter?” the bartender called Bob asked.
“I’m fine.” The man answered, not taking his eyes off Joey.
He stared at Joey for a while before he spoke once more, this time his words directed at Joey. “I saw you on the train didn’t think this was your stop.”
“It’s not.” Joey stated. “The train was unexpectedly delayed. They opened the door to let us find some other means of transportation.”
“And?”
“I couldn’t get a taxi so a beer seemed like a good idea.”
“Makes sense.” The man nodded before taking his beer and returning to a table at the far end of the pub.
Joey stayed in the pub for a while. Half way through her third Corona and she and the man, ‘Witter’, were still sneaking glances at the other. More brushes of his arm against hers whenever he got up to get another beer. Once her hair had fallen to the side and had touched his left shoulder. Another time her foot (Joey had slipped off her shoes by this time) had made contact with the side of his leg.
Now as he ordered yet another beer she could feel his leg pressing against hers, his shoulder touching her shoulder, his head just hovering behind her head. And if she moved her hand just a little upwards and to the side she could touch the prominent bulge...oh boy…could she touch it.
Bad thoughts, Joey. She scolded herself.
She took another swig of her beer and felt rather brave. Her hand trailed up his thigh. He looked at her, his eyes unreadable. His hand was fondling her breast.
When did that happen?
Not that she minded. She let out a low moan as her hand reached its distinctive destination. Joey felt brave and alive and her foot was rubbing his leg. His head was bent down low and he breathed on her neck. She could smell and feel his breath. Warm. Alcoholic. Distinctively male. He drank from his beer and she watched his adam apple throb. Tiny beads of beer fell to the side and his tongue flicked out to wipe away the stray droplets. Joey felt one deviant drop fall on her neck. He noticed too. He licked his lips then licked the drop away, tasting the runaway drop of beer, tasting her skin.
He drank more beer. More fallen drops.
Her tongue shyly ducked out before she languidly licked his throat, feeling the bump of his adam apple as he breathed and swallowed. He tasted like sweat, beer and man; salty goodness.
*****
The lighting was dim. So dim in fact that even standing so close they could hear the other’s heart beat, they could barely make out the other’s face. They could still hear the voices of people from the pub below and the drifting smell of alcohol that lingered in the air. Joey’s clothes lay on the floor, her stockings ripped beyond repair. Her chignon was now completely ruined with her hair messy and rumpled. Her lipstick had been completely wiped off, with the only reminders of the lipstick being smears of red across Witter’s neck, face, shoulders and chest.
His chest was broad, hard and muscular. Joey ran her fingers across the large expanse of skin relishing the feel of tiny hairs. She lightly stroked his arm feeling his muscles tense at her touch and she had never felt so wild, so free and so incredibly wanton.
Witter’s kisses set her on fire, his penetrating blue eyes clouded with desire and lust. Gently he smoothed away strands of hair from her face and kissed Joey’s forehead. She melted at his touch. She felt greedy wanting more of this man than she had ever wanted anything in her life. There had been no introductions. She only knew he was ‘Witter’ thanks to Bob the bartender and he didn't know her name at all. But introductions were not necessary. They knew who the other was or at least who they would be for one another.
He was going to be the best Josephine Lillian Potter would ever have in her life.
And Joey Potter, who never did one night stands, who had only slept with 3 men in her life, was going to be the best for Pacey Witter (for that was his full name although Joey didn’t know that).
Witter was going to be for Joey that one wild, passionate, uninhibited, mysterious lover that she would remember fondly in the years to pass. She would tell stories to her daughters and granddaughters about this man. She would tell stories about how his tongue plunged into her mouth, how his hands roamed across the valleys and crevices of her body, exploring her and knowing her so intimately.
Joey might blush and daze off in remembrance at how it felt as they tumbled onto the bed, his weight heavy as he lay on top of her while he carefully lowered himself into her. She would dream of the endless motion of him sliding in and out of her and the noisy sound of slick wetness that their actions created. How her muscles tighten and how her legs wrapped themselves around him as she lifted herself up to meet him over and over and over again.
During the night they had swapped positions and she was on top, riding him, watching his face contort as he screamed in pleasure. They tumbled and rolled off the bed, hitting the hardness of a wooden floor. Joey’s arms reached out as she grabbed the leg’s of the bed for support as Witter entered her once more, relentless in his pursuit of mutual pleasure. With several hard thrusts Joey’s body writhed in ecstasy, the bed moved to the right because of the force and because Joey was still clutching onto the leg of the bed. They giggled a little, laughing, but they didn’t stop.
His hands worshipped her and in his eyes she saw something more than just passion, lust or desire. He saw such emotion reflected back in her eyes too.
He kissed her on the mouth and now their movements were slower. They took their time ignoring the beat of the clock which was trying to hurry them. She cried when emotion and sensation overwhelmed her and he held her tight, his own body shaking. They kissed and they kissed some more.
It was almost morning.
His hands casually outlined the features of her face.
“You’re so beautiful.” Witter whispered.
“And so are you.” Joey replied.
He watched casually as she got dressed, helping a little (although it wasn’t very good help). She had her skirt back on and her bra and shirt. He held her panties. Witter lifted her up in his arms and entered her one last time, against the door, still holding her panties. She panted, breathless. Her makeup was a day old by now. Joey’s hair was a mess.
The room was no longer dim but glowed with the yellowness of morning.
She could see his face and he could see hers.
Joey’s eyes connected with the deep blue of Pacey Witter’s as he penetrated the very inside of Josephine Lillian Potter. When she trembled he held her safe. Her body was still shaking from the aftermath of it all. She felt hollow when he finally slipped out of her.
Slowly he bent down and carefully slid her panties back on her. Joey stuffed her ruined stocking in her jacket.
He quickly changed and they exited the rented room together. The pub was virtually dead except for a few early morning drinkers. Bob was still at the bar, half-asleep.
“Shall I call you a cab?” He offered.
Joey shook her head to decline. “I think I’ll take the train instead.”
Witter held her hand as they crossed the road. He bought her a train ticket and walked her to the platform. There were one or two people about but it was a Saturday morning and most people were at home enjoying the beginning of their weekend. Joey had yet to go home. They heard the intercom announce the arrival of the train and the squeals of the train’s wheel as it approached.
Joey and Witter kissed like lovers caught up in the ritual of parting.
She entered the train.
“Train departing in one minute.” The announcer called.
She stood in the empty carriage, staring outside the window, her hands pressed against the glass. If it wasn’t for the glass their hands would be touching, Joey’s and Witter’s, because he stood on the platform and she stood in the train.
“Train now departing.” The announcer called.
He stepped back.
Joey watched him as the train jolted forward.
Witter became just a man standing on a train station platform.
And a memory to last a lifetime.