Bullets And Train Rides: V

I had a decision to make and it had to be quick. No more ringing. The call hit voicemail This is the moment in the cartoons where Daffy Duck has an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. Both were clamoring for attention, screaming loudly in my ears. I gave in, grabbed the phone, silenced it, and jammed it deep into the bottom of my purse. I made up my mind in that split second. Whoever, whatever that was contained in that message would have to wait…

I had fully committed. Surprisingly, it was sitting well with me—right now, at least. I had no doubts, no insecurities, no fear. None whatsoever. Instead, what I thought would be this ever creeping dread, this idea that something was wrong, was replaced by a resoluteness, a conviction. A bargain with my brain that everything had been leading up to this moment. Not the phone call. In this moment, I was bathed in purple light; I was drinking her desire, which was bubbling just under the surface. With the phone call lingering in the air, we had separated a bit; breathing, but no longer a single breath. Hearts beating slightly off. I could tell she was looking at me, eyes, dripping golden brown like honey, thick and delicious. She was searching for any sign of doubt. I steeled myself, smiled a bit, moved closer to her.

If I may back up a bit here. Actually, more than a bit. Up until this point, I have never mentioned the girl’s name. I have been very careful not to. I have good reasons not to, the least of which is for my protection. If my partner were to get a hold of this, she would not be happy, and that is putting it mildly. I am also protecting the peace of the woman I am writing about, so to attach a name to this previously nebulous beauty ( of trans experience. I feel I need to say this, as I am also trans. Part I is available to read. This is more a refresher), I will call her Violeta. Also, for the purposes of this account, it was getting tiring saying “that girl” or “she”. I am going to drop the “that girl” but am definitely keeping the “she” Oh, and since I am getting all confessional here, my name is Viola. Wait, I hope you all don’t think that is my real name, do you Lol, silly geese. And I hope you all don’t mind, as I have to mind some of my Ps and Qs. If you made it this far, then you know that me and Violeta met in an online group. The group is going strong, and is for trans women and nonbinary people (no discrimination nonbinary). We hit it off fast. Fast forward to now, and here we are.

Violeta, after looking into me with her honey brown eyes, moved closer. We had three hours before I had to be back on the train. I smiled. She moved in, kissed me gently.. The wind caught the curtains through the open window. They jumped and danced, free and unbothered. And tonight, I was unbothered. This night, under the full moon, bathed and wrapped in luminous purple light, we became one. Bodies merging. Time slipping with each caress, with each kiss. Eyes locked on eyes, we found our rhythm. I realized that I was sinking further and further down, locked in motion, Desire playing out in real time, with caution, at first. Gentle. Lips locked.

The next two hours simultaneously proceeded in slow motion, spanning worlds in my mind, while also moving super speed as we crossed galaxies, bodies entangled, breath becoming one once again. She pushed me to limits I had never thought possible, then beyond I returned the push, electrical currents pulsing between the both of us, My darling Violeta—she tasted like wine, plummy, jammy. The perfume (Burberry Goddess) mixed with her breath was intoxicating, and we were beyond the point of stopping. We were continually pushing the other to higher elevations, and into other worlds.

Both of us collapsing, me closing me eyes, breathing heavily, my brain trying to process what just happened. I was definitely being driven by instincts I long thought dormant. I mean, I knew what I was getting into when I took the train the two hours to meet Violeta. But this, wow! I had forgotten the instinctual nature of true passion, the kind that drives one crazy, pushes one past their limit, and continues to explode, colors mixing in the light. Reds, purples, blues. Violeta, oh Violeta! What you have done for me tonight is to bring the world back to me. You brought my passion back, my desire to create again, to pick up the pen, record this account, keep it forever.

Even if we never see each other again, I have this documentation, which I am writing on my laptop, while on the train back to my normal life. Right now, I am thinking of our parting. It was is a nice day, so we walked to the train station, both of us quiet, minds filled with everything that happened in the two hours previous. We don’t hold hands. We don’t need to. The electricity crackles as it jumps between us, causing the hair on my arms to stand on end. We stop at the platform, near where the train will arrive, and with a gentle kiss, lips; soft, ripe plums, brushing my shoulder, then onto my lips, lingering briefly, you smile, whisper “goodbye Viola” in my ear. My face is flushed as I smile back at her. I want to say say something clever, something to wrap this magical day up and present it with a sparkly violet bow. Instead, I smile and say just as softly in ear, “thank you, Violeta”, almost mimicking the seductive whisper she had just dropped in my ear. The train came rolling in, breaks squealing, bringing to a halt in front of us. She smiled, tears coming slowly, as slowly as mine. I think the tears were mutual tears, longing tears. Tears of understanding that this may be it for each other. That the magic of the last two hours was going to go up in smoke, punctuate the atmosphere, and bring a fresh round of tears. I got on the train. We waved at each other, and just like that, and the train was off, headed back to my life before all of this. Oh, how my life had changed in four hours! I need to include the two that it took to get there because my mind was solidified on the ride up to Violeta.

I smile, remembering your scent, your eyes. I pause, trying to remember everything. I need to remember everything. I have been typing furiously, attempting to catalog your smile, the way you hair falls. Words begin to fail. For a writer, I am failing miserably at my craft. I can still feel your touch on my face, long after the fact. Fuck, it had been years!! I am a puddle of goo still. I don’t know how this is going to play out going forward. It is clear Violeta was the key that opened the lock.

My mind wanders while I look out the window at the passing scenery. Green trees and fields flying by. Blue skies, puffy clouds. Sun between the clouds, but it is not too hot. What a beautiful day!

Ring Ring Ring my phone brings me back, sharply, into focus, jolting me out of my reverie...