Stories From The 6 Train

by Alexis Angel

  "Oh my god, what happened?"

  I proceed to recount the events for her and I could almost imagine her shaking her head on the other end of the line. "You've got to get out of that place. Seriously—and before you protest—I know you're tough—there's nothing to prove—but that place is a shithole. Come meet me in Florida. I'll set you up with something better."

  "I wish I could, but I can't."

  "Okay, let me stop you right there, and I swear to god I'm not trying to sound cheesy, but Ker—you know the old saying that the only thing holding you back is yourself? I hate to say it—and don't get defensive—but that's you right now. You CAN get out of there. It's simple. You just pack your shit and leave."

  "I'm not ready to pack up and leave."

  "Why? Because you've suddenly grown a soft spot for psycho inmates?"

  She had no way of knowing it, but that question had some serious truth to it. I hesitated, and wondered whether or not I should tell her about Lucien. Would she even understand? I decided that if I were going to share this with anyone, it would be with Brie.

  "Yes and no," I said.

  "What is that supposed to mean?"

  "It means that I might have a soft spot for an inmate, but not for the one who attacked me."

  "Get the fuck out of here! You have to be joking. Please tell me you're joking, Ker."

  "I wish I were, but I'm not. I'm serious as a heart attack."

  I could hear her let out a long breath. "Well, shit. Who is he? He's hot isn't he? I can tell by the way your voice just went up an octave."

  "It did not go up an octave," I say, rolling my eyes and thankful she can't see the warm flush creeping across my face. Maybe I'm just feeling warm from the wine.

  "Just admit it," she prodded again.

  "He's hot for a convict, okay? He's a little rough around the edges and I know he's not someone I should be falling for, but seeing him lying there on the exam table—"

  Brie cut me off. "Wait—so you've seen him naked and sized up the whole package?"

  "Well, I—uh, I may have done a little more than that."

  "Shut up! You fucked this man?"

  "No, no, no! I didn't mean that—I mean, he saved me from being attacked, and of course I've had to examine him, and—you know what? Never mind. Let's pretend I never mentioned it."

  A warm flush spread across my entire body as I remembered him laying there, his chiseled abs like mini mountain ranges just begging to be explored—and my hand on his— I cut the memory short when I realize I still have Brie on the phone. I shift uncomfortably on the couch when I realize that the thought of him is sending an electric jolt right between my legs.

  Brie laughs. "Whatever you say. Just don't do anything I wouldn't do."

  Now that's funny. Brie changes men as often as most people change shoes. Every season, she has a new flavor.

  "Don't worry. Nothing will come of this. He's serving a life sentence, and I know that anything we do will put my job in jeopardy."

  "Oh god, a life sentence? What is he, a murderer?"

  "Well, he says he didn't do it."

  "Wait, let me stop you right there. Do you hear yourself, Ker? This man is serving a life sentence for murder and you're willing to overlook that just because he's hot? I don't know what's going on, but now I am more convinced than ever that you need to get the hell out of there. Come to me."

  "Thanks, girl—you know I appreciate it. I'll give it some thought, okay?"

  Brie decided that answer was sufficient for now and we both promised to keep in touch before we hung up.

  My mind snaps back to the present. Maybe Brie is right. Maybe a change of scenery would do me some good. And why am I allowing myself to get hung up on an inmate? The old me would have never done something like this. But this man is different—I swear there is an intensity and—despite what he is incarcerated for—a gentle honesty about him. And I have no idea where I would be right now if he hadn't have walked in on my attacker. For that I owe him.

  I look at the clock and see that it's time for me to take my lunch break. I grab my bag and decide to head to the Alcove. At least there I can get lost in my thoughts and not worry about anyone finding me. When I get there, I find that I am still so conflicted. I should leave. There's no use hanging on to something that does not have a future. Shit. Why does this have to be so hard? I dig in my bag for a pack of cigarettes. I'm not a smoker, but I keep a pack for emergencies—situations where nothing else will calm my nerves. I look around, making sure no one is nearby and I flick the lighter on, inhaling until I see the orange glow. The smoke fills my lungs and I lean back into the wall. I exhale, and bat away a cloud of blue with a wave of my hand—I don't want anyone to see me. I close my eyes but the feel the presence of another person and quickly open them again. There's no one in front of me, but when I look to my left, I see a silhouette. It's an inmate standing at a distance. His eyes are looking at me intently and there's a palpable intensity in the gaze. He steps closer—slowly at first, unsure of what to say or how to approach me. I put my cigarette out and tuck my bag under my arm. He's now close enough to touch me and I see that it's Lucien Stone.

  Lucien

  As I approach, I open my mouth to speak to her, except that I don't. Nothing comes out. I'm not sure why I don't just say what's on my mind—that something about her drives me wild, that I think she's the most beautiful woman I've ever fucking seen. No, I guess that's not true. I do know why I'm not saying these things; it's because this is the first time in years—or, maybe ever—that I've cared this much about a woman. Unbelievable, right? I don't know—I guess I feel like I need to protect her. From what? Besides the assholes in this place, I don't really know.

  I can see it in her eyes. She feels something too. Maybe I should end it all now and do us both a favor. By getting involved with her, I am opening her up to all kinds of bullshit. All it takes is for someone to snitch this out to Billy and the gang—and believe me, word travels faster than you can blink—and they wouldn't hesitate to hunt her down. I don't want to put her in that kind of danger. From the looks of her journal, she's dealing with enough shit in her life. She doesn’t need to add more.

  But all of these rational thoughts disappear when I step closer to her and breath in her scent. All of a sudden, I find that I can't shut the fuck up because she's so hot.

  "Are you a camera?" I ask, and then almost kick myself for being so predictable, but it's too late; I've got to go with it.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I just ask because darlin' every time I look at you I smile."

  "Is that the best you've got?" she says.

  "Oh believe me, I'm just getting started."

  I can see that's making her smile, and it spurs me on.

  "No wonder the sky is grey today because all of the blue is in your eyes."

  "Are you in the habit of meeting women in dark alcoves and throwing your cheesiest pick up lines at them?"

  "Nah, just one woman in particular."

  I can see her blush for a moment, but then the look on her face grows serious and she says, "I'm glad you showed up."

  I wait for her to say more but she doesn't. I keep my eyes locked on hers and for a moment there is just the two of us, and silence. I gently reach out and touch a curl of her hair and her cheek with my fingers. The tenderness of the moment makes me open up. "I had a life outside of here, you know. I wasn't always this person in an ugly khaki jumpsuit, believe it or not. I'm not saying I've ever been perfect—sure, I've fucked up plenty, and I've made more mistakes than I'd like to admit, but I want to be a better man. You make me want to be a better man. If I was half the saint you are—"

  "Let me stop you right there. I'm not a saint."

  "Oh sure, because normal people would stop and give their last hundred dollar bill to the homeless man sitting on the street corner? I don't think so."

  "How did you know about that?"

  "I read your journal—and look, before you y
ell at me about that—I get it. I never should've taken it from you. I'm sorry. See, I told you I've made mistakes, and that was one of them. That's why I brought it back."

  "So, why exactly are you in this place?"

  This question takes me by surprise. I wasn't expecting her to ask me about this—I thought maybe she'd go on about that private journal of hers and what an ass I am, but no, she's not, and I'm not sure how to answer her. She's throwing me in the deep end. I mean, what should I say—do I just come out and casually say, darlin' I'm in her for a double murder? I'm sure she'd take one last look at me and run the hell out of here. But I want to be honest. I lean against the wall, resigned to it all. I realize that I have to be honest because now is my chance, and I exhale deeply before continuing.

  "I've said it before, but I'm innocent—not innocent of being a bad man at times—but innocent of the charge that has me in here for life. It was a setup. I was framed for murder, and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't wish I would've been in a different place that night. The sounds, the images, the people—it all haunts me. I never should've been involved with that gang, and I shouldn't have been in that apartment."

  She reaches out and puts her hand on my arm. It's a soft touch, but for the first time, I feel like there might be a person in the world who believes me.

  "Did you have a wife back then?"

  "Never been married—was always too much of a coward to put a ring on anyone's finger."

  "I see—well, maybe marriage isn't all that it's cracked up to be anyways. I've learned that the hard way with a man once."

  "You've been married?"

  "No, but almost. We were engaged—it was a mistake to say the least."

  "And what happened?"

  "Let's just say I came home and saw something I never imagined seeing before and that was it. It was over."

  "That man's an idiot to lose someone like you."

  She laughs. "I guess he didn't get that memo."

  Despite her laughter, I see the sadness in her eyes, and everything I thought about walking away from this woman goes out the door. I want her, no doubt about it. I slide my hand to the nape of her neck, and lightly grab onto her hair and pull her close. "Your lips are looking kind of lonely," I say.

  She is so close to me now that I can breathe in the floral scent of her perfume. It's light and airy and reminds me of summer—of times spent outside of these four concrete walls—of never ending blue skies and open roads. Her hair is brushing against my face and all of my senses are heightened. My lips are now near her perfectly kissable mouth, but I'm hovering a couple of inches away. I can feel her anticipating my next move and I whisper, "Would they like to meet mine?"

  But before she can answer, I don't hesitate and I press my lips to hers. She opens her mouth, allowing me in, and my tongue urgently finds hers. I feel her run her hands through my hair, softly raking her nails against my scalp, and it sends goose bumps down my arms. My heart is thumping like a bird finding the door of his cage open and I find my hands roaming down her back, exploring her shoulders and the slight curve of her lower back until I reach her hips. I grab onto them, pulling her into me, and I reach down into the waistband of her pants and feel the edge of her panties. Desire is coursing through my body and I continue to kiss her, our tongues, warm and wet, pressed against each other.

  Kerri

  One kiss—that’s all it takes. The moment our lips touch, I know I’m doomed. All self-control, all thoughts of right and wrong… It all goes out the window with one simple kiss.

  Lucien presses his body against mine, pushing me back against the wall. His hands go to my waist, his long fingers over the small patch of skin between my shirt and pants. There’s no fighting this. How could I? After spending so much time thinking of him, imagining his naked body against mine, my sentence is set in stone.

  I let out a small sigh as his lips go to my neck, desire rippling through me as his full lips explore my skin. My nipples are already hardening, straining against the fabric of my bra and pleading for his touch.

  I know I should put an end to this. My job, my whole career—all that is in jeopardy right now. But, somehow, my brain can’t process any of that. With each passing second the real world becomes just a distant nuisance, like the echoed memory of some long forgotten dream. Only his touch matters to me now… His lips, his hands. His muscular chest pressed tight against mine.

  My eyes are closed, but I don’t need to see. I let my hands guide me, my fingertips going up his neck as I explore the hard features of his square jaw line and high cheekbones. I go up to his hair, running my fingers through and disheveling it, my heart beating faster than ever. How many times have I dreamed of this? Too many to count. And now, fantasy has become reality, and it couldn’t be any better.

  A shiver goes through my spine as he slides his hands up the side of my body, running them up to my hair. There, he hooks his fingers in it, yanking and forcing me to throw my head back and expose my neck. His slightly parted lips give way to a row of perfect white teeth, and he nibbles at the tender skin on my neck, all of me surrendering to Lucien Stone.

  Still gripping my hair, he lets one hand fall down to my waist and then, burying his fingers on my exposed flesh, forces me to turn on my heels. I offer no resistance, my hands going to the cold wall as I turn to face it. He laces my waist with his arm and I jut my ass back, immediately feeling the bulging inside his pants squeezing itself against my buttocks.

  I lean forward against the wall, my forehead pressed against it while he takes both his hands to my waist and, grabbing my pants, pushes them down to my knees. My skin prickles as I feel the cool air lapping at it, and I can’t help but bite down on my lower lip as I imagine Lucien’s eyes tracing the contour of my ass, my small black thong the only barrier between me and him.

  Placing the back of his hand behind my knee, he slides his fingers up my leg, only his knuckles brushing against my skin. He goes up to my buttocks and then starts to trace the contour of my thong, going all the way to my groin. Another sigh leaves my lips as his fingertips go back and forth, my pussy growing wetter by the second.

  Before this, every time I thought of Lucien I became wet, my body pleading to be close to him, but now that he’s on me, the state I’m in doesn’t even compare. Everything in me is burning, desire like an anchor on my mind, pushing it down into a sea of forbidden lust. And it feels amazing.

  I hold my breath as his lips travel from my neck to my ear, and then he whispers.

  “Spread your legs,” he says, a commanding tone in each of his words. The moment I hear him, I move, my body reacting on instinct. There’s something about him—something wild and primal—that leaves no space for defiance. Whatever he tells me to do, I know I’ll do it.

  As soon as I spread my legs, he grabs my thong and pulls it against the side of my thigh. I grit my teeth as he stretches the fabric, only stopping after the sound of it ripping reaches my eardrums. He throws it to the side like a used rag, and I suddenly feel exposed, my cheeks flushing as I imagine him looking at my naked ass.

  There’s no time for being coy, though. I breathe out sharply as he smacks my right buttock, the open palm of his hand hitting me with enough strength to leave a mark. He does it again, this time on the left side, and a trembling moan leaves my lips. Just the sound of it is enough to drive me crazy; it’s dry and firm, like a gunshot, and it tells me that being with him will be unlike anything I've ever done.

  I tremble with anticipation as he places one finger on my inner thigh, moving it upward toward my pussy. He takes his time, brushing his fingertip against me before going for it… but the moment he touches me there, it’s Heaven.

  His touch is gentle and patient, his finger barely touching my labia as he moves it along the length of my pussy, toward my clitoris. When he reaches it, he presses slightly down and all hell breaks loose inside of me. I close my eyes, my breathing growing ragged as the whip of desire lashes at me. My heart drumming hard inside
my chest, I move my hips back, desperately trying to make him slide his fingers in me.

  “Don’t move,” he whispers against my ear again. His words are soft, but there’s no room for doubt: I will obey him.

  “I won’t,” I tell him, willing my legs to remain still as I submit to his torture of anticipation: I’m dripping wet right now, and still he keeps teasing me, moving his finger back and forth over my labia. Breathing out slowly, I try to keep my composure, but it gets harder any time his finger brushes against my clit. He applies perfect pressure—not too much, not too little—leaving his finger there for just enough time to leave me wanting more.

  When he pushes past my folds, his finger sliding just an inch in, I brace myself for an explosion of pleasure. But it doesn’t come; instead of sliding his finger in all the way, he only prods, moving it back and forth and driving me completely insane. I have to resist the urge to push my hips back against him, my insides shouting for more.

  “Be patient,” he tells me, his finger circling the opening between my legs. I try to respond, to say that I can’t be patient, but the only thing that leaves my throat is a small groan. I can’t think straight, let alone form a coherent sentence.

  Then, perhaps feeling my desperation, he flicks his wrist and slides his finger all the way in. I hold my breath as I feel him inside of me, just a taste of what’s to come—yes, somehow I know that there’s a lot more to come. The shackles of self-control have fallen off my mind, and now there’s no going back.

  He holds his position, his finger deep inside me, pressed hard against my inner sweet spot. Only when he starts to slowly slide his finger out do I breathe again, my brain suddenly remembering that I need to do it in order to keep alive; it’s easy to forget about these things when the only thing your body wants is pleasure.

  There’s a smooth cadence to my breathing now, one that matches the rhythm of his finger. He moves it in hard, and then slowly back out, taking his time with me. The more he does it, the more I ache to really feel him inside of me. Memories of his hard cock flash behind my closed eyelids, and I feel my mouth going dry at the thought of being with someone like him—after all, a member that size is something very new to me. I can’t help but wonder if it’s going to hurt… But then again, what if it hurts? It will be worth it, every second of it. And how do I know this? I don’t; I feel it deep inside of me, much in the same way I know the sun rises in the morning and sets in the evening.