What Happened on the Train When the Lights Went Out

I took the commuter train just before midnight, later than I usually do, with the exhaustion from my shift still clinging to my back. The whole line was ahead of me until I got to my stop, a string of sleeping stations I know by heart. The carriage was practically empty, that kind of emptiness that makes every sound bigger: the click of the doors, the hum of the fluorescent lights, my own heels against the rubber floor.

At the back, by the window, there was an older man sitting with his hands clasped over his lap. He had gray hair, a wool jacket, and a calm expression that, for some reason, put me at ease. I sat down beside him on the bench seat, leaving a courtesy seat between us.

I always dress the same way, and that night was no exception. A thin blouse with nothing underneath —at twenty I can still allow myself that—, a skirt so short it was almost indecent, and black stockinged thighs with garters that showed halfway up my leg whenever I crossed my legs. Underneath, white lace panties. I felt pretty and a little reckless, that combination that only shows up in the middle of the night.

The train jerked into motion with a soft lurch. One station less, I thought, resting my temple against the cold glass.

***

At the next stop, a station they call Los Almendros, he got on.

I saw him coming down the aisle and my mouth went dry. He was one of those guys who look like they’ve been cut out of an ad: broad shoulders, a narrow waist, a T-shirt hinting at the shape of his abs underneath. I did that quick scan we all do in a second and then later gossip about with our friends, laughing. He’s to die for, was my silent verdict.

Of all the empty seats in the carriage, he chose the middle one. The one I’d left empty out of politeness. He sat down so close I could feel the heat of his thigh through my stocking, and a clean scent, like soap and something darker underneath.

—Is this taken? —he asked once he was already seated, with a half-smile that made the question ridiculous.

—Not anymore —I replied, and my own boldness surprised me.

The older man said nothing. He was looking straight ahead, but something in the stillness of his body made me suspect he was listening to every word.

***

The train crossed a long viaduct and, halfway between Los Almendros and the next station, it came to a sudden halt.

It wasn’t a normal stop. It was a violent jolt, the screech of metal, and then a strange, heavy silence, as if the whole world had held its breath. The lights flickered once, twice, and went out completely. All that remained was the bluish light of the moon coming through the windows and the faint glow of the emergency lights at the far end of the carriage.

—Damn —I muttered, more bothered by the darkness than anything else.

The guy put an arm around my shoulders. At first I thought it was a protective gesture, a “don’t worry, it’s nothing.” It wasn’t. The hand he had free moved to his lap, and with the other he started pushing my neck downward, slowly but without hesitation, until I understood exactly what he wanted.

I should have pulled away. That was the interesting part: that I didn’t.

***

He’d already unzipped himself in the dim light. When my face reached his lap, he was already out, hard, throbbing against the palm of his own hand as he stroked himself up and down. Moonlight barely outlined it, but the smell and the heat made it impossible to ignore.

I opened my mouth and he slid in, holding the back of my neck gently but firmly. I slipped off the seat until I was kneeling on the carriage floor between his spread legs. He was big, bigger than I had imagined in that one-second assessment. I ran my tongue over him, gave little sucks that drew a hiss through his teeth, and I felt my own body answer: heat climbing from my belly, my panties getting wet, my breathing turning ragged.

If this has gone in my mouth, what would he be capable of putting in somewhere else.

The thought made me even hotter. I took him deeper, setting a rhythm, listening to him breathe faster and faster above my head.

***

As if he’d read my mind, he grabbed my arms and turned me around.

I ended up on my knees facing the seat back, my denim skirt bunched up any old way over my hips. He yanked the white lace aside impatiently and entered me in one thrust, sinking all the way in. I let out a moan that bounced around the empty carriage and bit my lip to keep quiet, even though there was no one who could hear us. No one except the man who was still sitting a meter away, watching everything in silence.

He started moving, in and out, in and out, with that urgency of someone who doesn’t expect to last long. I clung to the seat back, my stockings sliding with sweat and pleasure biting into me from the inside. Just when I felt something begin to break open in my belly, I felt him tighten, drive in to the hilt, and spill himself with a muffled growl.

He slumped back, undone, writhing with pleasure against the seat. And I was left half-empty, burning like a cathedral, my body begging for what it hadn’t quite gotten.

***

That was when the older man moved for the first time.

He didn’t say anything right away. He leaned toward me with complete calm and kissed me softly just below the ear, on the lobe, a brush of lips that raised every hair on my skin.

—Come here, go on —he whispered, with a deep, steady voice that admitted no hurry.

He held out his hand and helped me stand. He sat me on his lap, sideways, like someone settling down a person who needed to catch her breath. I was still trembling, still throbbing inside, and between my thighs I could feel the sticky trail the guy had left.

The man took a cloth handkerchief from the pocket of his jacket. With a tenderness that undid me, he started drying me, passing it slowly between my legs, from bottom to top. The feel of the fabric against sensitive skin sent a shiver through me, a current that had nothing innocent about it.

—You’re shaking —he observed, with a half-smile I guessed more than saw in the dim light.

—It’s not from the cold —I admitted.

***

As he passed the handkerchief one last time, I felt the unmistakable tug in my lower belly. Shit, my period. I’d been expecting it all day and it had chosen the worst possible moment to arrive.

I must have tensed, because he noticed right away. He brushed a strand of hair from my face and brought his lips to my ear.

—Don’t worry about where you bleed, my girl —he murmured—. You just enjoy yourself. Leave the rest to me.

And without waiting for an answer, he lifted me with astonishing ease for his age and bent me forward, my hands braced on the seat back in front of me. I felt him settle behind me, felt him look for another path, narrower, more forbidden. He entered me slowly, giving me time, whispering the whole time for me to breathe, to let go, to trust him.

The initial sting turned into a dense, dark fullness, unlike anything before. I gripped the seat with white knuckles and let out a long moan I no longer tried to hold back.

***

By then the guy had recovered.

I saw him lie back on the bench seat, on his back, with his cock hard again and a mischievous boyish smile on his face. I understood what they were about to offer me without anyone saying a word. I got on all fours over him, with the older man still solid behind me, and let the young guy fill me from the front.

I was trapped between the two of them, with barely any room to move, held up by four hands that knew exactly what they were doing. One in front, one behind, every thrust from one drove me against the other. The carriage smelled of sweat and sex, the wheels were still stopped on the viaduct, and I had stopped thinking about anything except pleasure rising in waves through me.

—That’s it, my girl, just like that —the older man whispered against the nape of my neck, setting the rhythm—. Faster now. Come on. That’s it.

—I’m not going to last —I moaned, my voice shredded.

—Then don’t last.

***

The orgasm ripped through me all at once.

It came from very deep down, a jolt that ran from the crown of my head to my toes and left me convulsing between the two bodies, moaning things I don’t remember, clinging to the guy’s T-shirt as if I were going to fall. I felt the blood, I felt their heat, I felt everything blur into a single incandescent point. I couldn’t say what weighed more: the double vertigo of having them both at once, my period having just arrived and making everything rougher and more real, or that deep, patient voice whispering in my ear to let myself go.

All I know is that it was, without question, the best fuck of my life.

***

The lights came back on as suddenly as they had gone out. The hum of the fluorescent lights, the hiss of the brakes releasing, the public address system apologizing for the delay.

When the carriage was bright again, the three of us were already seated on the bench, our clothes more or less back in place, looking straight ahead like three ordinary passengers. The guy got off two stations later without saying a word, just one last sidelong glance and that impossible smile. The older man stayed until the end of the line, just like me.

Before getting up, at my stop, he brushed the back of my hand with one finger.

—Good night, my girl —he said, and nothing more.

I got off onto the platform with my legs still weak and my heart racing. I don’t know their names, I don’t know if I’ll ever take that commuter train at the same hour again in the secret hope that it happens once more. I’m only here to tell it. And, if I’m honest, part of me is already hoping the lights go out on that train again.