I know I am moping and I don’t care. Everyone I love seems to have left me. I am not just alone now. I am also lonely. So lonely.
The train is as empty as I am. The same scenery goes by again and again. Two stops and no one gets on. Another dozen stops before I get off.
Ha! Get off. Haven’t done that since she left me six months ago. Said I wasn’t enough for her. Said she found someone who makes her giggle like a schoolgirl. She is ten years younger than me. The son-of-a-bitch who makes her giggle is ten years younger than her! Cradle robber!
What is a 60-year-old man to do? Masturbation and cam girls are not enough. I need human flesh contact. I need a relationship with another human being. Not a computer screen. I don’t want a professional. I want a girlfriend.
The train door opens at Bancroft Station. She enters and the entire mood of the train car suddenly changes. Which is to say, my mood changes. She is my age. I look at her and I can’t look away. I drown in her eyes. They take me in and take me apart. She knows me, she feels me. She understands my pain, my anguish. In a train car full of empty seats, she sits next to me and puts her hand on my knee.
I’m still drowning in her eyes. She throws me a life preserver with her words.
“I am here for you,”
Oh, God! A connection! My eyes begin to water and I blink to beat back the tears. I want to cry into her shoulder but I won’t. I can’t do that. I can be vulnerable but I can never be seen as weak. Struggling with my composure, I stare at her through misty eyes knowing she sees the hurt in me. The need in me. The longing in me.
Her hand moves to my zipper and cups me.
“I am here for you.”
I nod silently. My nod gives my permission. Her hand gives me hope.
She has a scent. I breathe it in. Scent memories last the longest. I breathe it in again.
My mind wakes from its six-month slumber. A woman is touching me. My body is waking up. My heart beats. I feel the pounding in my chest. The stirring and swelling of arousal is a welcome memory.
She has breasts. I notice them now. Cleavage. Breasts that hide inside with cleavage deep enough to feed a man’s fantasy! Glorious breasts!
I’m afraid to move now. If I move, she might leave. If she leaves, I will lose her light, and I can’t possibly bear the loss of another light in my life.
I have become firm. I’m swollen. I am lengthening under her caress and it is not enough. I am constrained by civilized clothing. Bound by briefs and blue jeans, I can’t be erect unless I am free.
I say my first two words to her.
“Free me.”
