We've all been here before. The wait, the period of time between the exchange of hateful words falling down like wingless birds. That's the killer.
Once upon a time, I prided myself in being a decent conversationalist-maneuver
Reiterating what I wrote earlier, my title has been stripped. As of October 19, 2009, I've been confronted by the biggest rail block- a little nuance I like to call small talk. Empty talk, for the sake of the conversation itself has crept over the railings and glued itself to the wheels, to the rail, to the magnet, to my heart, to whatever the fuck pushes thcis train in its circuit. Well she came with a pretty face, a clumsy grace and these thick black glasses, mysterious, promiscuous, sexy- vexing me enough that I needed to turn on my intercom.
"Hey, what's your name?"
She looked up and smiled, as if she knew exactly what she was about to do, something a lot colder than the day outside.
"Fremont.", she quips.
The end of the line I thought, fitting- she'd be the end to any man's desire...little did I know she holstered a .40 cal underneath that befitting blue dress.
"May I offer you a drink madame?", I asked politely, knowing she'd probably dump it out knowing it was something hard.
She said yes, downed it in a quick inhale and from there we rode the rails, the smooth undulating feel of the tracks beneath our cart was just right and I knew I might just find some body. I conducted in a way I hadn't conducted before; for once in my life, I let a stranger inside the control room. Overconfidence. Trust. Honesty. Long, sophisticated talks about how her boyfriend did her in, about how the drugs were out of the picture, talks of how I made this the best damn BART ride she had ever been on. I could see it in her eyes so we went for a long, quick fuck. Rough, nasty, face down in the control panel, ass cheeks peeking out the cabin window, dirty. What the fuck. I lost my mind, I was tipsy, topsy, turning, fucking on the job and moving at incredible speeds to an imminent platform so I pulled out. Fremont didn't take too kindly to that. In fact, she didn't say anything and it was surprising considering I had just heard her lowest and highest and back to lowest vocal pitches.
"Look, give me a minute, I need to steer us to safety, who knows how long we've been at this."
Looking away, she says, "Okay." I liked that so I kissed her on the lips one last time and began to steer.
The Conductor is gallant- the conductor is a gentleman who will get you where you need to be, on time, in your prime, all for a small dime. I felt wrong, undignified not asking her about herself, this lady was amazing.
"So, whatcha (notice the playful tone) do for fun Fremont?", I asked looking at her dressing up for the last time.
"Silly boys. Like you.", she said grinning, massaging my back, my hair, my belt buckle, taking off her panties again.
It freaked me out and turned me on at the same time, and from that moment onward I knew that I might have misconducted. Well, hot damn. I turned around to screw her silent this time- to shut or fill up her fucking mouth and to keep it quiet. I was at my weakest, deep inside her is when she revealed her true colors.
"Bitch what the fuck is wrong with you?! Put that shit down! What the fuck, I'm just a fucking train driver and all I did was fuck you on the BART", I screamed. Fremont had decided it would be...amusing to fuck me. Fuck me with her Glock model 22 (.40 calibers of intense, searing pain). Damn it was hotter than a fucking oven in that room. Gun pointed at my head full of lead, pussy lips anointed, dripping-holy shit am I tripping.
"Shut up. Baby boy haaa. Just keep your dick inside me while I take your belongings." The cunt was robbing me on my train, while doing me, and here I was holding my hands up as if I had done something wrong. It felt so good.
"Fuck your long, exasperated haa Fremont. I hate you, but I kind of love you for having the balls- UGH, to do this. Can you stop jamming that fucking thing into my eye socket god damnit?! I get the fucking point, you are robbing me but damn why'd you have to do me like this- oh my god. Damn baby girl you smell like a goddess, taste like honey, feel like nobility." It was my last chance to get out of this as a man, as a gentlemen, as the Conductor.
"I'm sorry you think that.", she said riding and sliding her hands into my back pockets, pulling out all of my keys, wallet, I.D, trees.
"Please don't take my weed, here, if you really want me undone, just hold on to this string on my sweater. I swear I'll cum undone for you.", I yelled, and that one made her go. Fremont gave in, and she lost her footing. A gunshot went off and the emergency sprinklers turned on in the cabin (what the fuck? no fire...). Noticing this was my last chance to drive this train to safety- and to protect myself and everyone else on board, I took my fist and punched the ho in the face. Did the one, one, two blap on her pretty crystal eyes and I hustled my way around the cabin, ducking her gun butts. Finally, after dancing around naked for about five minutes, Fremont fell down-the gunshot had hit her in the toe. Picking up the gun and aiming at her face, I smiled.
"Not so elusive now huh you stupid bitch?", I said as I debated fucking her one more time at gunpoint- you know, just for revenge and all. "You nut, you are the nuttiest of hos I have ever met, you fucked me while you jacked me. How about I FUCK you now?" For once, Fremont, grimaced.
"Please do." she says, licking those juicy red lips.
I went crazy, lost my charm for a second.
"Nomp, it's bad.", I said and I dipped down, and slapped her twice with my phallus, "Remember me bye."
And I stepped outside the cabin, outside the train, outside onto the platform, ignoring the police, thanking God to be alive, thanking myself that I had not fallen to the devil herself. Breathing deeply, sewing my sweater back together I realized that maybe it was time for a new job.
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