Night Moves

Night Moves

by

Eden Bradley

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Kate leaned into the hard edge of the metal-framed window as the train pulled out of the station. Klamath Falls, Oregon. The least exciting town in existence. But her pulse was thrumming, anyway.

She always felt that lovely anticipation, that thrill, when she was on a train. But the biggest thrill lay ahead, after the other passengers had fallen asleep. She could hardly wait.

Her gaze caught the flash of lights on the slowly retreating platform, then there was nothing but the velvet night. Nothing to see in this part of the country. No scenery, no city lights. Didn’t matter. What mattered was being there, feeling that motion, that sense of possibility, of going.

It was nearly midnight: far too late for the dining car. The train had been delayed, leaving her sitting in the quiet, small-town station for hours. Good thing she’d stopped to eat as soon as she’d arrived from Ashland. Klamath Falls shut down early, and there was nothing but an old candy machine wedged between the ancient rows of wooden benches inside the station.

But that part was over now. Now there was just the luxurious idea of the long, slow ride ahead.

Something sexy about trains. She wasn’t sure what it was. But she always swore she could feel that rocking motion hum through her entire body like one enormous vibrator. She was beginning to melt a little all over at the thought.

Have to be alone soon.

Thank God it was late. The lights were kept low, and most of the other passengers would be asleep soon.

She leaned back in her seat, allowed the rolling sensation to lull her, felt it pulse between her thighs.

This part was almost as good as the rest, the anticipation of her little adventures. She’d done this on trains all over the country; she never tired of it. Didn’t even matter too much where she was going. Going was the important thing. The motion, the smooth, forward thrust of iron.

She stayed in her seat for another half hour, absorbing the hard whisper of tons of metal moving beneath her. Finally, she couldn’t stay still any longer.

It’s time.

She got up, hefted her overnight bag over her shoulder and moved silently down the center aisle, passing between row after row of passengers nested in for the night. But for her, the night was just beginning.

She pulled open the door, stepped onto the noisy platform between cars, opened the next door and slipped inside as quietly as she could, kept going until she reached the sleeper compartments.

She took a deep breath before opening that last door. Then she moved through, easy as water, sliding the heavy door shut behind her.

She stood in the hallway, getting her sea legs, listening, her heart a loud thrumming in her own ears. And the longer she stood there, the more the heat built between her thighs, the seam of her worn jeans rubbing there as she swayed with the motion of the train.

Soon…

The car was empty. She moved down the row, quietly trying the first doorknob. Locked. Damn.

She moved on, tried the next one. Locked. One by one, she made her way down to the other end of the car, slipped out with a sigh of frustration and went on to the next car.

Just as quiet. Her head was filled with the gentle roar of the engines, the snick of the wheels on the tracks. She stood a moment, savoring the sound, the sensation, before moving on. The first door was locked. But the second turned under the gentle pressure of her hand.

Ah-ha!

She pulled the door back, peered into the small, darkened compartment, her pulse hammering in triumph and the flickering idea of getting caught. There was nothing on the floor or the padded bench seat, no luggage, nothing to indicate anyone was in there. She stopped anyway, listening, but all she heard was the night rushing by outside the window. She slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

Her skin was heating all over now, her body humming with need. Dropping her bag onto the bench seat, she moved to the window, leaning her weight against the cold glass so she could really feel the motion. She stayed there for several moments, perfectly still, absorbing it all: the rumbling of the train, the vibration of it moving though her body. She pressed her breasts against the glass, the cold of the hard, sleek surface bringing her nipples up through the cotton of her T-shirt.