The exam day. Traumatizing day. Same day I took the train and met Alin. Happy-day.
I was sitting in the faculty hallway and asking myself why I was there. I wasn’t particularly scared, nor was I excited. I had no expectations at all except that I would fail.
I was the first testing candidate to arrive and sat alone in the huge, cold hallway. I came without expectations, but still I was overwhelmed. Maybe it was the building. The Central University looked impressive with its enormous and pretentious colonnade surrounding the University Marketplace. It was the oldest university in Romania. An institution of higher education with tradition, and a modern university that had gained recognition across the country.
The building had typical European architecture, a combination of Roman frescos along with Classical and Baroque influence; large, vaulted spaces, traced on either side by a series of wide, arcaded passages consisting of rows of arches, while supporting a high, half-dome roof. In the center of the building, impressive atrium and richly decorated columns. The stout columns and thick walls were dramatically embellished with figurative sculptures and stone tracery.
I approached the famous "Hall of Lost Steps,” a hallway embellished with dramatic paintings by acclaimed Romanian painters. I found a bench and sat alone in the huge hallway.
I considered leaving while sitting on the hard wooden bench. I knew taking the exam was a waste of my time and money.
Other testers began filtering into the building, and the place soon became crowded and loud. Every student was the center of attention. They were talking loudly and pretentiously.
I contemplated the people around me. Candidates were surrounded by family members, friends, and neighbors—anyone who could support them. Getting into a university was a huge achievement, and the whole family was ready to face the moment they had spent years working toward. Students started preparing as soon as they entered high school. Some would apply two or even three years in a row to get accepted; the competition was extremely brutal.
Only the best of the best would pass the exam. Parents would invest their whole savings in tutoring. In fact, only the most advanced students would be tutored by renowned teachers.
As expected, the exam was hard and complex. Words like explain, analyze, write, evaluate, state, describe, and identify were staring at me, humiliating me—proof of my failure. There were no multiple-choice questions to ease my pain, not even a fill-in-the-blank.
I looked around: everyone else writing frenetically. I inhaled deeply, put my pen down, and stood up. Snatching up my bag, I left the room, followed by several perplexed looks. I hurried outside and then stood in the sun with empty mind. The street was bustling with people detached and indifferent to my plight.
I went straight to the rail station and called my mother to tell her I’d failed. The results would not be displayed for a couple of weeks, but I told her I knew I’d failed. Over the phone, I felt her heavy silence crushing my shoulders. She didn’t say anything for a while. I let her be, my heart aching for her disappointment.
After a minute or two, I told her I would take the train straight to Costinesti and stay there for the rest of the summer. She was accustomed to my departures. After saying good-bye to my mother, I bought a ticket and then boarded the train. The rest was history.
CHAPTER 2
PUPPY LOVE
It didn’t take long for the train to set in motion again. After a few minutes, Alin stood up and sat next to me. He touched my hand, wrapped his fingers around mine.
Finally. I liked the strength of his fingers.
We sat for a while, both lapsed into a comfortable silence. We were still watching out the window as the scenery sped by. My eye followed into the distance to where a meadow shifted into a beech forest. At the horizon, a mountain loomed; it was difficult to tell where the mountain ended and the cloudy sky began. The meadow and forest disappeared slowly as the train gained momentum. The view was lifting my spirits and creating a sense of freedom as we continued toward our destination.
After a while, Alin broke the silence. “Tell me about yourself, Mona.”
His voice was low, close to my ear. I turned from the window to look at him. I tried to look him in the eyes. Green and brown swirling together, green winning. Or was it more brown and just a hint of green?
“I thought I did. What else do you want to know?” I asked.
“Everything,” he said, and he let my hand go. He stood up and sat across from me. Apparently, stories were told face-to-face.
“I hate my town. One of the most famous metropolises in the world. You know: New York, Paris, Tokyo, and…Medgidia.” I replied with frail humor. “It’s not a city; it’s an ugly shithole. Or a black hole that will suck you all your life. It’s small, and populated by judgmental people.”
He smiled and offered me an apple. I took a bite and gave it back. He took a bite from the same place I left a hole in it. He offered me it back and I refused. I had a story to tell. The train ride was my chance. I continued:
“My first boyfriend was the best-looking boy in my school, but boring. I used to imagine him kissing my neck and doing naughty things with me.”
He laughed. “Why, I had a feeling he didn’t do them?”
The train gave a lurch, and the guitar shifted, bumping into his arm. He gently set his arm back against the seat while pushing his guitar aside.
A thought struck my mind. Maybe he sings in a rock band.
“Something was missing. I knew I was not madly in love with him. Besides, I suspected he might be a moron. A good-looking one, though. I wanted to break up with him every day. Then, I would remember all the girls wanted him. So I would give up and continue to stay bored and listen to never-ending fishing stories.”
“Poor guy.” Alin was smiling broadly.
“I don’t think he had any idea what was in my brain. He was proud of being my boyfriend. I was the cool girl everybody wanted to be around. Boys would love my sexy looks, my big boobs, my flirting style. Girls would envy me and wanted to be me.”
“Oh, no doubt about it.” I caught him rolling his eyes at me.
“Hey, I am telling you, I was special.” I reached across the space between us, taking a halfhearted swat at his head. He ducked, throwing up his hands and laughing at me. I gave up and sat back. I continued: “I loved to break the rules and push people around me to do the same. I hated to be normal, and I hated to follow stupid rules. I got in trouble a lot because of that.”
“What trouble? Did you go to jail?” Alin gave me a smug smile.
“No.” I was laughing. “Let me think. You know, in school, we were forced to wear the school uniform. Well -”
“You didn’t,” he interrupted triumphantly.
“Oh yes, I did. I had to. But my uniform was different. I had my sewing machine, and every day I would add new things; make it shorter, longer, add ruffles, lace, bows, pearls, sequins, chains. I would wear scarfs and headbands. Or wear net stockings or crazy, colorful socks. Anything to cover my uniform. They used to call me to the principal’s office. I was a bad example. They called my mother for many reasons. I also never wanted to attend the forced volunteer work field.”
“I remember. We had to pick up apples off trees…grapes, all kind of stuff, instead of going to school.” He made a face. “It was revolting. I hated those trips to work at the field. In fact, we would do more damage than helping. Play with the fruits or veggies, throw them at each other.”
“Well, I never went. My grades suffered because of that. And my reputation. I wasn’t a good ‘pioneer’ anymore.” I pulled a mock-sad face. “I guess I was a disappointment to the Pioneer Movement and the Communist Party.”
The Pioneer Movement was the youth organization, under the wing of the Communist Party. The membership came automatically when children entered elementary school and continued until adolescence. Then, the mandatory enrollment into the Party.
“Mona, you weren’t a good girl.” He was shaking his head
and waving around in the air his index finger.
I cut him off. “Good girls never wrote history! Great stories never start with ‘So, I was going to the church, and suddenly’ or ‘I went and ate a salad, blah, blah.’ A great story will start with, ‘You would never believe this shit. I saw a hot guy, and I was wasted…’”
“Joan of Arc wrote history, but you know how she ended.” He was teasing me.
“You know, Alin, your death will probably be from being sarcastic at the wrong place or the wrong time…just saying,” It was my turn to point my finger at him.
He burst into laughter. “You really hate normal, don’t you?”
A ray of sunlight slanted across his face. His eye color changed into light green while the sun was shining upon his face. Why can’t you make up your mind? Are your eyes green or brown?
“Trying to be normal in a sick society, that’s sick. You know how it is. We live in a fucked-up system. It’s not my fault I am the way I am. I had to adjust. My way was being different; not following the crowd.” I couldn’t stop talking, which bothered me.
I continued, “Teachers told my parents my membership could be revoked, and I wouldn’t be able to attend university or find a job without being a member.” I dismissed it with a wave of hand.
If someone would ever request to leave the Party, it would be a gesture of significant courage, and the consequences could be huge. You would become a political dissident.
“Anyway, I went for a couple of times, and then I refused to go. My mother went to the doctor, gave him some imported cigarettes or whiskey—the usual gifts—and he wrote me a note saying I was sick. I got away with it for a while. They noticed. As I said, principal’s office, the whole treatment. My mother was awesome. She was like my lawyer. She fought against those ass-kissing teachers. You should have seen her.”
I stood up and tried to imitate my mother’s voice. “My children, at their age, should go to school to study and have good grades. Period. My children are not workers. This is child abuse. My children are not slaves. Period.”
“Was she listening to Free Europe?” He almost whispered the question.
It was the forbidden radio show. “Yes. She used to listen with my neighbors. Oh, and the Voice of America show as well.”
We all did, secretly. But no one had the courage to repeat what they heard.
“Anyway, teachers were afraid other parents would follow me or complain about why their children were forced to work the field and I was not.” I was talking quickly to avoid any interruption.
“I’m grateful to my parents. They let me be free. I was the only girl playing poker with lots of guys; with real money. When they cut the electricity, we played in the dark, at my place, by candlelight or a petrol lamp. I was cheating, hiding cards by sitting on them. I was the youngest player and the only girl. I guess no one thought I could cheat.”
“Or maybe they were distracted by your boobs,” Alin said slowing his words.
I clapped my hands, laughing. “How did you know? I didn’t wear a bra at home.”
“You were winning; I guess?”
“Of course. Sometimes I would lose, and I would prefer not to pay. I would ask them if I could show my boobs to pay my debts.”
“Did it work?”
“You’re a guy; you tell me.” I laughed.
Alin was laughing as well, shaking his head, covering his face with his hands. I heard a soft clank from the bracelet he wore. Yep. He is in a rock band. The cuff was black leather, decorated with a thin, stainless-steel chain bracelet.
After a while I asked him to go in the aisle. I needed to stretch my legs. He agreed to follow me. My body was sore. The train benches were not comfortable, and the space inside the compartment was pretty narrow.
The train seemed empty. Alin opened the window, and we felt the fresh air touching our faces. Outside a small meadow with long grass just disappeared passing by. We passed a village with white painted houses surrounded by picket fences with folkloric wood sculptured gates. The houses were separated by square fruit orchards on either side.
In front of a house, a small boy was standing by the street waving a sign at passing cars. He was probably selling fruit from the orchard by his house. As we passed, the scene changed again; the houses lost their luster as we entered a poorer section of the village. No longer white with neat fences, the houses now looked desolate and were in disrepair. Sagging porches and broken fences; even the weather seemed gloomier as the sun hid behind sudden clouds. Then the village dwindled as we passed into the countryside once more.
After a while we returned to our compartment, and I sat next to him this time.
“Tell me about your first time.” He came closer and gestured for me to rest my head on his shoulder. I moved over, and let him put his arm around me.
I assured him,“Nobody wants to know about my first time. Nobody.”
He was quiet for a while. I closed my eyes and I let him play with my hair.
Where have you been, Alin? Where have you been my whole life?
CHAPTER 3
PHOENIX
I shivered with a slight chill and rubbed my arms with both hands. He draped his jacket across my shoulders. I thanked him, smiling sweetly, and tried not to ogle his impressive and exposed musculature. I stuck my nose into the material inside his jacket and drew in the scent of his masculinity, a combination of cologne and sweaty leather with a notable cigarette smell mingling in it – cigarettes again. Since when do I like cigarettes? I loved the smell.
He said in a soft voice, “It must have been tough for you.”
All of a sudden, a veil of salty water clouded my eyes. What was wrong with me?
And then, there was silence between us. Awkwardness and embarrassment floating above us, coming from nowhere. The air became heavy. Silence was still growing between us.
Here I was, sitting on a train with a stranger I was lusting for and wondering what was next.
I let the silence be; slowly soaring. The obvious sexual tension was rising; I felt it embracing me and hoped he felt the same. Then, just like that, he caressed my hair. I closed my eyes for one long moment and feel the gentle touch, and I shivered at the warmth that flowed through my body. He moved so that he was kneeling in front of me; we were facing each other – too close.
I pressed my back to the wall and got farther away from him, feeling like a prey cornered by a wolf. My eyes were still closed, but I felt his look burning my face. He was still too close. I pushed him. My whole body started to relax and warm up. I felt his hands trying to touch me, and I resisted the urge to let him.
Let me be in charge. Alin. I need that today.
My eyes were relishing the feel of his masculine energy. I let him move closer. His lips met my own passionately then moved down to my neck. I felt excitement surge through me like I’d never known before. I was terrified by my own desire for this man. Terrified and exhilarated by the feel of yearning manhood through his pants, pressing against my body.
My hand pushed him back lightly.
It’s my game, Alin. My rules.
He didn’t resist it. My eyes were still closed. Time stopped. I didn’t care that someone might see us. My moans become lascivious and daring. My hands were moving around my breasts and slowly reached between my legs. I opened my eyes and took off my panties, throwing them on the bench. His eyes were big and daring, scanning my body with desire.
I felt his tension, and I loved it; he was under my control. My moaning became faster and louder. My mind emptied for a moment. I closed my eyes again. Time stopped. I fantasized his hands grabbing my hair while he kissed me passionately. Moistness grew between my legs.
Addictive pleasure burst into every centimeter of me. My fingers were moving faster and faster. I arched my back as waves of sweet sparks were running through my body. Up and down. Up and down. Lost in the moment, I gasped breathless. My orgasm came surprisingly easily. I pushed him violently against the wall – with my hands - n
ot giving a damn that my heels would hurt his skin. He didn’t make any sound. I took my time and let my body rest after the uncontrollable shaking. Later, I opened my eyes, quickly grabbed for my panties and looked at him. I looked at the sliding glass door. What if someone saw something?
Unexpectedly, Alin stood up and grabbed my hand while dragging me toward the door. When we reached it, he pressed his back against the window, blocking the view. Then he pulled my hair violently. I didn’t know if I should be scared or enjoy it. The pleasant pain I felt, gave me my answer. I moaned invitingly, waiting for his kiss.
Damn, how did I end up kneeling in front of him?
After he pushed me down on my knees, he started to unzip and pull his jeans down. I closed my eyes. An aura of sweet danger was soaring above us.
“Look at me!” His voice was demanding. I decided to let him control me. He forced himself into my mouth. He was fully filling my mouth while he pulled my hair. I offered my mouth deeper and deeper. How can you refuse a big size?
His breathing became heavy. I didn’t care about my soreness in my knees. I knew he was about to come. I moved my head faster, up and down, and he let out a deep, throaty moan while he was guiding me at his desired pace. And then I felt something I never felt before. A dirty pleasure; I wanted to be dominated. Like he could read my mind, he forced himself harder into my mouth until I had to gasp for air. He let me deeply inhale. Only one moment later, I engulfed his whole length, throat deep. Perfect moment for him to come; his orgasm felt like a victorious explosion in my mouth.
“Swallow it!” he demanded in a rough voice some seconds later.
Already did, dummy! Your thing was halfway in my esophagus when you came.
He helped me stand up and arranged my messy hair. Then he sat down next to me. What had happened? Did I seduce him or the other way around?
Welcome to the rough sex territory, Mona.
I didn’t know what to say. I did know what I felt: addiction and lust meshed together. Here I was, sitting in a train with a stranger I was falling for, and wondering what was next.
Just a Monumental Summer: Girl on the train Page 2