Nap," he slurred. Amy pulled out another smoke. "I - I want to stay here for a while," she hesitantly said. Her dad waved his consent to her, turned and left the lounge car. "God, how can you _stand_ it?" Amy asked after he had gone. "You said you do this a _lot_." "I have sex girls lots of books, some music... " I paused. "... And my own room." I showed Amy the book I was reading, but that wasn't what had registered on her. "I can loan you a book if you'd li-" "You have a _room_? On a train???" Her mouth hung open. I was amused by her surprise. Before I could say anything, she asked, "Can I borrow a book?" Amy's voice had reverted to its earlier bored tone. "I'd better do something or else I'm gonna go fuckin' nuts." I told her that the rest of my
Books were in my room. "Can I take a look at them there?" I consented; after all, she was still in high school and much younger than I. We headed for my room, in the opposite direction from her seat. And her father. Amy's arrival in my car gained a raised eyebrow from the attendant. sex girls No comment, just the look. I opened the sliding door to my room. "Cool! Do you get a bathroom and sex girls stuff?" I gave her the quick tour. "Where's the bed at?" I closed the curtain, shooed her into the hall, and pulled the bed down to complete the tour. Amy gave me a push in the back with a teenaged giggle, forcing me to vault onto the bed to avoid its metal side. Amy came in right behind me and slid the door shut. "I thought you wanted a book," I said as she climbed
Onto the bed. Amy studied the door for a moment, ignoring me. She figured out how the latch worked, then kicked off her shoes. Smart girl. I caught a whiff of her perfume. Expensive, and probably bought with Daddy's gold card. Daddy who was only four or five passenger car lengths away. "I wanted to sex girls pass the time _somehow_," she corrected. "I might as well have some fun on this goddamned train." Amy edged closer. "I hate to be a spoilsport but - " Amy chose that moment to blow in my ear. " - Your dad is about four hundred feet away," I finished with considerably less composure than I had started the sentence. "So? He drank a whole bunch, and he's out cold," she whispered, running her finger down my chest. Amy deliberately unfastened one of my shirt buttons. "You wanna make me remember my first long train
Ride?" She may have only been seventeen, but the delivery of that line, and the sentiment behind it were _much_ older. Amy slid closer, removing any space between our bodies. It was getting hard to think. Down below, it was just getting hard. "I'm not a virgin," she said defensively. I never would have...
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