“The next train will arrive in, 8 mins.”
I slide my travel card through the barrier; balance, $1.75. Normally I’d sigh. Waiting behind dumb tourists to top up sucks, but feeling the bulge in my pocket, I know I won’t need to. Gonna get a monthly tomorrow.
The platform is quiet. It’s 4:20am, so not surprising. This part of the city is baby strollers and divorcees. It’s asleep by midnight.
What else should I get? It’s not gonna be H&M, and Uniqlo can fuck off! All Saints, for sure! And not clearance. I’m gonna check their whole collection when I get home.
A couple, towing enormous luggage and speaking in what I guess is Norwegian, walk past. They seem lost but are giggly and touchy-feely. It triggers a memory of his finger pulling my mouth open and running along my teeth and down my throat. I bite my lip to feel it again and smile.
I choked a little bit, though. I lose a moment and hear the announcement finishing, “4 mins.”
The idea of splurging at All Saints starts to pall. God knows I could use a new MacBook. But that would be so practical! I want…I deserve an extravagance, don’t I?! The Norwegians sit down and start playing music on their phone, sharing the speaker. They notice me and nod.
He didn’t want to play any music while I was there.
That was weird. I asked but he said he wanted to just hear me. Hear me undressing. Hear me moaning. Hear him entering my body. Watching the look in his eyes and the lust, I was cool with that.
We didn’t talk about much, though.
When I walked in, his TV was playing a loop of a woman jumping off a docked barge. It reminded me of the Stingily installation at the New School. He turned it off, though, so there wasn’t much of a chance to talk.
His apartment was gorgeous. I was right to pick him. He looked just like his pics, had a hot chest and the dick was definitely on point!
I haven’t cum that hard in months.
I reach inside my pocket and run my finger along the edge of the bulge. I kinda wanna give myself a paper cut. I’m grinning and the Norwegians notice. But my thoughts deepen and I see their expression become concerned. I’m not grinning anymore.
Did he say goodbye when he shut the door? I couldn’t remember. He wasn’t smiling, I remember that. My mind goes blank while a rat scurries over the tracks.
I feel sticky and sweaty. The stupid train should’ve been here by now. It’s been four minutes! My underwear feels like it’s half on, half off. I try my best to maneuver it back into place.
Saliva is pooling in my mouth and my head is getting light.
What’s happening?
My chest starts to flutter and I know what’s coming. I’m about to cry. Panicked, I look at the Norwegians. They’re re-engrossed and ignoring me. Thank God. I look up at the train timer…it’s blinking 0 minutes.
Peering over the edge and down the track, I can’t see any lights coming.
“Please not now. Please not here,” I plead to myself.
I can’t stop it. My breathing breaks and the tears start coming. I feel like my veins are filling with putrid sewer water. My brain shouts, “Your last hookup wasn’t half as hot!”
“It’s not the same!” I shout back aloud.
The bulge in my pocket slithers. It’s breathing. It’s trying to tear through my jeans and enter me. I feel dizzy and reach for the support beams. The Norwegians look at me, concerned again. I look back at the tracks and imagine what they’re imagining.
They stand and start to approach, and I muster every inch of power to pull myself together and feign I’m stable.
“I just broke up with my boyfriend…It was my decision.”
That stops them. They give me an understanding nod then cautiously move back to the bench as the horn of my deliverance sounds and the white lights of the C train start shining on the tracks.
Thank God.
It arrives and the carriage is empty. The Norwegians are gracious enough to go to the adjacent car and give me privacy. I step inside, sit, put my head between my legs and let all the shame pour out in a flood of tears.
The doors close and all I can think about is…
I just sold myself for $500.