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A Bad Case of Loneliness

A Bad Case of Loneliness I used to ride the train for hours alone. The 7:40 pm to Vanguard avenue. The 8:20 to Hollyhock St. The entire night I would sit on the lonely train and look out over the city, the lights of homes, and offices showing like stars through the black window. Sometimes I would ride longer than other times. When the conductor would come on to announce the arriving stop, I wouldn't much pay attention. After all, it didn't really matter where I got off did it? Was I running from something? Was I running to something? Am I just trying to keep my mind occupied? I would ask myself all those questions. I think the latter question was the correct one. I wasn't trying to run from something, and I certainly was riding the train to anywhere in particular. I just liked to sit, and watch things go by. I liked being in my own little world while I didn't think about things, and things didn't think about me. In my old, regular life I used to be an editor for the Living column in the local newspaper- the largest newspaper in the city actually- and I was married for 5 years I think. Work was what I liked to do. Going through college as an English major, I knew I had to make a choice of career fast, and I certainly didn't want to teach or write. So editing was it. I also would write reviews for a magazine that was produced mainly for movie buffs. The reviewing was mostly a side job, just to keep my mind from being restless. It was also fun to do, and that made it easier to accomplish. My wife had been a complete sweetheart. She was the type of woman you loved to be around, no matter what the reason was. She was an unusual woman, but in all the greatest ways. Carol was her name wasn't it? Yes. She was beautiful. Long brown hair. Lovely, bright green eyes. Long, smooth legs. She was to die for. And then I almost did, but it didn't turn out the way it should have. Our home was broken in to. Quite an unusual thing to happen for the neighborhood we lived in. The man was startled when Carol woke up to discover him in our room. He had our back turned to us on our bed, rummaging his hands through our dresser. When Carol left out a soft gasp, the man whipped around. Her hand grasped my shoulder and shook my body softly. The man had let out a small yelp, and my hand was already half way to turning the nightstand light on. When I did I noticed the man had a gun already pointed at Carol. His blue eyes showed terror, and inexperience. I raised my hands to protest, and Carol reached for the phone on my side of the bed. When the bullet went through my hand my eyes closed, blood sprayed over my face, and I smelled a small hint of gunpowder. The .22 caliber bullet struck and shattered bone in my hand on its way to another bone, this bone did not shatter, but chipped, and sent the bullet through my palm in a downward trajectory. After it left my palm, spraying blood over my face, it went right through the back of Carol's upper neck, who had reached over my lap to grab the phone. The bullet entered into her spinal column, and stopped slowly. The next 3 years are a blur. I remember clutching Carol to me, screaming for the ambulance to hurry. I remember flashes of her funeral. Now, all I remember is the train I rode home from her funeral, and how I have ridden the same train around the entire city for the last year and a half. Through all the long times of riding this train, Carol's death has become numb. While it's better for her to be forgotten -except for the good things I remember- new feelings have formed after her disappearance from my thoughts. Most of them are not happy feelings, and most of them are not even sane feelings. But the feeling that always strikes the hardest, and the longest, is the loneliness. The longing for someone else hurts the most. The yearning for the ability to merely touch someone could make my heart stop beating all by itself. And then the weirdest, but greatest, thing happened. One evening I was riding the train as I would usually on any evening of the week, and I happened to turn my head from the window. To a normal person, this would not be a weird thing. But to me it was. And what was even weirder, was the reason why I did turn my head. Everyone has the strange ability of mild-clairvoyance. But not the type of clairvoyance where you can read people's thoughts. No, not telepathy. The type of clairvoyance when you can feel someone watching you. This type of clairvoyance is what got me to turn my head. I was on the 7:40PM train to Vanguard avenue. I had been riding the train for close to forty-five minutes already, and for the last twenty minutes or so I could feel a pair of eyes on me from the corner of my eye. From what I could tell, the person was staring directly at me. Usually when I think someone is watching me, I turn my head for a brief moment, and see they really are not even looking in my direction. This time, when I turned my head, I saw a gorgeous woman looking right in my direction. She had her eyes on mine. Normally when you are caught staring at someone, you turn your head again to avoid the person's accusing look. She did not turn my head, and I did not offer an accusing look. Her eyes were also what made me keep my head turned from the window. They were bright blue, a thousand yards deep. I swear oceans, and lands of another world existed in those eyes. And most people would assume that when someone was staring at you, it was for reasons of concern, or disgust, or curiosity. Her eyes showed none of these. Surprisingly, her eyes reflected the reaction she had to the thoughts I had in my head. They looked almost sorry. She had a look of pity on me. Not pity coming from her thinking she was a better person than I, but pity that showed she knew exactly why I was riding on this train. She knew I came here every night. She knew my heart ached. And I think her heart shared a little bit of its own aching. Not allowing myself to stare back into her tempting eyes, I offered a small smile and looked down at the ground, instead of the window. I noticed her move from her seat, and she was soon sitting next to me on the dingy train. The horn of the train sounded as it passed another train going in the opposite direction. She had never taken her eyes off me, even when I looked away. He hand came toward me, and her fingertips touched my chin softly, lifting my head to look at her. When I did, her eyes changed. They once showed a look of complete sorrow, and pity. Then they changed to a look of complete understanding, as if she was trying to tell me it was all okay. Then she smiled. Some smiles can regarded as forced, but her smile came from absolute helplessness to do otherwise. Since smiles are more often than not contagious, I smiled in return to her. Our faces began to change from solemn, remorseful reflections, to rejoicing happiness that we had found each other. I took her hands, and she squeezed mine in return. When her lips met mine I felt like I was eleven again. When I got my first kiss from a girl named Rebekah, I thought I would was going to yell and sing at the same time. There was a lift-off feeling in my stomach, and I thought I might pass-out from happiness. I got most of the same feelings when I kissed the stranger on the train. It was a short, brief, no-tongue kiss, but it was still nice. The way our lips fit perfectly together was like magic. I started to smile again, and we continued holding hands. I told her my name was Ian, and I was surprised she kissed me. "I'm surprised I kissed you myself, and my name is Kyanna," she replied to me. I smiled and nodded, "I am happier to meet you, than anyone I have ever met before Kyanna." She smiled and laughed at this. We went on talking, and riding on the train together. She told me she had been watching me for some time. I asked her why. And she said at first it was because she was attracted to me, but then she realized I wasn't really going where on the train. She wanted to come and talk to me, but she said something in my eyes made her just sit and watch. Then she realized that we were going through the same type of pain. Kyanna had also lost a spouse. Though not because of a bullet, the pain she felt was much like my own. Her husband had cheated on her, and divorced her soon after. She had been alone since, and was struggling through life. Her friends weren't much comfort, and it was mostly because she didn't have any very close friends. We talked for a couple of hours on that train. Holding hands, and telling stories, it was like being anywhere in the world for me. Even though we were on a public transit train, her beauty, and the attraction of her eyes dissipated all the loud rocking and whistling sounds. I found myself liking to watch her eyes as much as I liked watching the window of the train. -- The train stopped at Harbor blvd., and she stood up slowly. "This is my stop." She smiled, but it was a smile of near-remorse. I could tell she didn't want to leave, and I thought she might even want me to go with her. As if she was reading my mind, she pulled on my hand, and I stood from the seat. I wanted to protest, but I realized what good it would do. She smiled and escorted me off the train. The night was cool, and there was a slight fog causing all the streetlights to look like balls of translucent light. We talked some more while we walked toward her apartment. She mostly talked, while I listened, and stole glances toward her lovely eyes. She talked about how lonely she was, and expressed how long it had been since she had had sex, without actually telling me figures. "I know you might be a little weirded-out by this, but I would really like you to come to my apartment and spend time with me." She turned her head from watching her footsteps to look at me. I just smiled, and gave a slight nod. "I would like that Kyanna," I replied. I had sincerely intended on just spending time with her. Maybe have a drink or two, but mostly talk about things. Obviously things turned out differently. -- We sat on her couch in her small apartment. It was nice. Not big, and not too cramped. It had a very homely, personal feeling to it. She didn't have many nick-nacks or novelties, but she was well decorated. We drank coffee and talked about our passed lives more, when I got that lift-off feeling in my stomach again. I think it was because my body knew what I was going to do before my mind did. My mind hadn't quite caught up until I had my lips pressed against hers again. Her lips were soft and lovely, and her mouth was warm. My tongue explored hers, rubbing it as I sucked it gently. She whimpered lightly into my kiss and pulled my hand to her waist. The events after this point turned into what seemed like a slow, rolling tornado. She laid back with me, her hands sliding up my t-shirt to feel over my chest. My hands were sliding up her sweater, feeling the bare skin of her back. Her legs were on either side of my hips, and her pelvis was grinding against mine. I could feel my hard cock pressing back against her, and she moaned slightly when she felt it grow. I broke our kiss to move my lips to her neck, kissing and licking her skin gently. She sighed at the feeling and slipped one of her hands to my hair, tugging on it gently, pressing my mouth to her neck. "I- haven't felt this way in a...long time," she breathed, and began grinding against my hard cock harder. "I want you to fuck me, if you promise not be gone in the morning." I gasped out the promise as I slipped her sweater off over her head. Her breasts were shockingly pert, I thought for sure I would see a bra over her chest. Her hands reached down to my head, and made me sit up, pressing my face to her cleavage. I kissed and licked as best I could over her breasts, my hands rubbing her back and shoulders. She whimpered again, her hands moving from my head, down to my pants. When she had them completely undone she slipped her fingers inside and grabbed my cock, tenderly stroking it idly while I sucked her beautiful breasts. She pushed me down again, and began yanking my shoes off. I helped her, and kicked them off to the floor, and she kicked out of hers as well. Then she began groping my hips as her mouth quickly descended to my cock. As soon as I felt her warm, wet mouth on the head of my dick I saw white stars all over her apartment. I let out a whimpering, shuddering gasp and arched my head into the arm of her couch. She swirled her tongue over the head of my cock, and then began stroking her lips over my shaft, up and down. I began to moan quietly, and concentrate on how to not cum. She pulled her mouth away reluctantly, slurping her lips on the head of my cock as she did, and looked at me. I looked back at her, and I'm sure my eyes were as wide as silver dollars. She grinned slightly, and helped me get her clothes off. When she was completely naked, she took my wrist, and pulled me up from the couch. "Come on; let's get to the bedroom where there's more room." She smiled, and pulled my wrist as she trotted down the hall, breasts bouncing, toward her bedroom. Once there, she jumped on her bed and let out a small growl. I walked toward her, ridding myself of the rest of my clothes. I slide up onto her bed, and crawled toward her, kissing her lips as my hands slid over her smooth thighs. She smiled, and growled playfully into my kiss. Her hands rubbed over my bare ass, pulling me toward her. Kyanna then tilted her head back, breaking our kiss. "God, baby. Please fuck me. I'm so hot...please," she pleaded. How was I going to argue? I groaned softly when my cock pushed slowly into her wet pussy. She gasped again, spreading her legs wider, and wrapping them around me. The lift-off feeling went off in my stomach again, and this time it kept lifting-off until I began to stroke into her. She moaned every time my cock dug into her pussy, moaning how good I felt, how hard my cock was, how much she needs me. I planted my hands on either side her, and began to grind my hips into her, digging my cock inside her. We kept our pace for a few minutes, fucking each other rather slowly, embellishing the feeling of it all. Her mouth was biting and gasping against my shoulder, her hand pulling at my hair gently. I began kissing and sucking on her neck and shoulder, fucking her slightly harder. "Mmm, don't stop Ian. God you feel good." I hadn't intended on stopping anytime soon. Her pussy felt like heaven, even though I've never been...I'm sure it feels similar. Warm, inviting, comfortable. I rolled us over, and she planted herself on top of me, wiggling her hips slowly, and guiding her cock back inside her. She then began to ride me gently, slowly. Her head tilted back, and her hair hung loosely down her back. She was moaning when she sunk completely down onto me, and I couldn't help but admire how incredibly beautiful she was. Her hands gripped my chest, and she kept working herself on top of me. She was growing a fever, and couldn't keep a slow pace any longer. She began to bounce on my cock, grunting softly with each stroke. I started to pant softly, moaning her name. Her fingertips touched my lips and she smiled down at me, fucking my cock with her wonderful body. "Oh God! I'm cumming! Oh Ian, cum with me!" Our souls cried out at the same time, and I gripped her hips. Her fingers scratched lightly over my chest as we came together. She began to scream, yelling out how she never felt so good, and she never thought it could be this way. I was moaning loudly, our bodies tensing until I thought all of my muscles would rip. And then we crashed together, her yelling calming down into an exaughsted grunt. My moaning calming to a deep, tired pant. She lay on my chest, and clutched her to me tightly, smelling her hair, and kissing her head. No, I don't think I would be gone in the morning. I think I would rather make her breakfast. But for now, I would like to sleep, just like this. Her spell had broken my loneliness.