Love Knows No Color Pt. 27

"I guess so," I replied.

"I wonder if it'd feel as good if it sucked your dick?" Shavonda asked sweetly.

"Shavonda!" I exclaimed in horror, "NO! That's not right!"

"Maybe not," Shavonda laughed, "But I bet it'd feel really really good."

Damn her! Now I was intrigued. I'd never gotten head from a fish before, but then I'd never had one suck my toes either. All I knew was that it felt really good, almost as if Shavonda herself was sucking my toes. "What the hell," I thought, "It's only a dream." Slowly, gently so as not to disturb the fish, I eased my way off the rock into the water, dropping my shorts as I did so, the catfish moved away from my toes and found my now erect penis.

"Mmmmm," Shavonda said. "You look so delicious when you're hard like that. Makes me want some right now." But she sat on the rock and laughed as the fish swallowed my manhood. It felt incredible! Obviously, this fish could sense my pleasure, because it teased me, bringing me right to the point of ecstasy, then backing off for a little. Shavonda sat on the rock, her hands between her legs pleasuring herself. Strange thing was, as Shavonda herself moaned in pleasure, I felt the vibrations from the fish's mouth itself. It was like they were somehow connected.

The cat fish kept working it's mouth further down my shaft until eventually all ten inches were inside. I don't know how It did it, but it worked its mouth, tongue and throat muscles on my dick. Shavonda's moans sent vibrations through the fish as she too neared the point of no return. I could feel the pressure building, and as much as I tried to fight it I knew I was about to blow. I wondered what the fish would do when I flooded its mouth with my sperm. Would it...?

My eyes flew open, Damn! Just when the dream was getting good. But the sensations continued. As my eyes focused I realized the sensations were real, and that it was Shavonda herself, not the fish, that I was buried throat deep inside. Her head bobbed up quickly as I exploded in her mouth, eyes glinting in the dim light.

Her head stilled as she swallowed my essence, hand slowly pumping my shaft to make sure she got it all. "Mmmm, you taste good. Did you like that< baby?" she asked. I laughed and told her about the dream.

"Damn, boy!" she exclaimed "Bad enough you cheated on me, but with a catfish?"

"That's what you get for molesting me in my sleep," I shot back. We both had a good laugh, then made leisurely love before falling back asleep, bodies entwined.

The phone call came shortly after 6am. "We're putting our train together now," Scott told us. "We should leave in a half hour, 45 minutes. We'll see y'all up at KR."

I quickly called Kenny down at his parents' house, while Shavonda jumped in the shower. I joined her after the call and we washed each other's backs. Dressing quickly, we made our way downstairs to where Mom and Dad were having breakfast. He had to work that day, and we joined them for sausage and eggs while we awaited Kenny and Edie's arrival.

Mom had packed us all bag lunches, leftover turkey sandwiches, apples and a jug of tea she'd made last night. After Kenny and Edie arrived, they had a quick breakfast before we all piled into my Jeep. The plan was for Shavonda and I to ride the train, while Edie and Kenny followed and filmed us.

"Damn you!" Kenny said. "I'm the one who's chased trains here for the past fifteen years, and you two get the cab ride." I really couldn't blame him for being a little jealous. But this was a once in a lifetime trip. Scott and his crew were putting their jobs on the line for us. We were the ones invited to ride. If they wanted to let Kenny and Edie ride as well so be it. But I wasn't going to push the issue and jeopardize our day.

We Arrived at KR shortly after 8 am on a dreary November morning. Luckily, the temperature was in the upper 40s so we were able to wait outside the Jeep. We'd timed it pretty well, as we could hear the unmistakable growl of hard working diesels in the distance. They were on their way.

Both Kenny and I had our radios, portable hams scanning the railroad band. We couldn't transmit on the railroad frequencies, but we could communicate with each other on the ham band, which would come in handy during our trip. If only we knew how handy...

The signal was already lit for our train, green over red on the near track. They were close enough for the dispatcher to give them the right of way. While we waited, Kenny and I looked around. With the trees bare except for a few pines, we were able to see things that weren't apparent during the summer. One of these was the grade for an old wye track, used to turn engines back when steam locomotives ruled the mountain, Evidently, the helpers didn't run through to Moss Run like they did now, but cut off the train and returned to Dolomite after cresting the mountain. There were also the pedestals where a water tank had once stood. The steamers used a lot of water on the grueling climb, and this as the perfect place to replenish their supply.

"Advance approach signal, Clem," Scott radioed his helper engineer, who acknowledged by repeating the signal indication. Advance approach was a flashing yellow. I wondered why they were getting bad signals when they had a high green here? There weren't any other trains ahead of them. A few minutes later, "Approach signal Clem, looks like they're holding us at KR."

The sound of the approaching train grew ever louder. They were close. The signal was still green. They weren't being held at KR, I wondered why they were getting the bad signals. Then it dawned on me. Scott was getting good signals the whole way, but the train dispatcher wouldn't know that. And he'd want to know why Scott had stopped at KR.

The headlight rounded the curve in the distance. The ponderously heavy train ground its way slowly to us, then stopped right in front of us. Bidding Kenny and Edie goodbye, I followed Shavonda up the steps of the massive locomotive and into the cab. Scott was on the radio getting permission by the stop signal at KR from a perplexed dispatcher. His display showed we had a clear signal yet Scott was telling him it was all red. Meanwhile we were staring at a green waiting for permission to pass it. Nice one, Scott.

After he'd gotten off the radio with the dispatcher he grinned at us. "I figured you'd know what I was doing," he said. "By the way, this is Jacob," he motioned to the conductor sitting on the opposite side of the cab, To Jacob he remarked, "This is Von and Jason. They're building a model of our railroad in their cellar." Jacob nodded, relinquishing his seat to Shavonda. I pulled an envelope of photos out of our backpack, and passed the around. "Coming along nicely," Scott raid.

"Impressive," remarked Jason. "How long did this take to build? "

"We've been working on the mountain area for about a year," Shavonda replied. "I love this place, and it's nice to be able to visit it even when we're at home."

"Here we go, Clem," Scott said into the radio's handset. "Helper coming up," came the reply. He pulled out the throttle slowly, notch by notch and we started to move. Gradually, our speed increased as we got the heavy train moving, and soon we were over the top, making our descent through the mile-long summit tunnel. As more of the train started downgrade, Scott shut off the throttle and switched over to dynamic braking, using the air brakes as well. "Here comes the air, Clem," he radioed the rear end.

By now our speed had picked up to around thirty before levelling off as the brakes took hold. "It's going to be an interesting morning," he told us. "16 is coming up behind us, I expect he'll pass us once we get by Ray. We've got WC3 coming the other way, no idea where he's at, and WC13 behind him. We'll have to weigh the train on the scale at Laurel, so if they're close we may have to wait to cross over their track."

I had set up my camera to shoot video as we rolled down the mountain. The road and creek had dropped well below us as we wound our way down the mountainside on gentle curves. Soon we rumbled over the tall trestle where I'd met the railroad in the pouring rain five months ago, and a short while later we rolled into Ray where we had a flashing yellow signal. The railroad went from two to three tracks here, with the third track curving sharply to the right around the mountainside while the other two cut through the end of the ridge in Ray tunnel. We rolled through the short tunnel and around the gentle curve between our middle and lower pastures. After the tunnel, the third track rejoined us and we were now on the middle track as we passed under the iron bridge where I'd spent so much of my childhood.

"Look," Shavonda said, "There's Edie and Kenny," Edie waved at us from the bridge as Kenny filmed us going by. It was great seeing our old iron bridge from a different perspective. Just out of sight of the bridge, we passed by another set of signals: double red for the left track, yellow over red for our middle track, and green/red for the right one.

"Approach signal, Clem," Scott radioed to the helper, who acknowledged with a guttural "Approach signal." Scott made another reduction on the air brakes and our speed slowly began to drop further. "Looks like we're being held at Waite. WC3 must be close." We eased on down to the signal at Waite, coming to a complete stop before the red signal.

The center track came to an end here at a switch just beyond the overhead gantry that held the signals for each track, with each leg connecting to the adjacent track. Just beyond the connection to the left track, another switch veered off to the left into a long siding that ran beside the main tracks. That was where we were headed as soon as we got the signal. "That's the runner," Scott explained. "It leads to the scale, and back in the day we'd often have more than one train waiting on the runner to use the scale. Today we're the only one."

Before long, the train we were waiting for came rumbling past, pulled by two shiny new gray and yellow locomotives bearing the numbers 1402 and 1407. "Those look new," Shavonda remarked. Turning to me she demanded, "I want one."

"You see who's boss," I laughed. "Seriously, how many new ones did they get."

"From what I hear, we are getting 30 from EMD and 10 from General Electric," Scott replied/ "I think it's a bit more than they wanted to buy, but at the end of the year the new Tier 4 emissions standard goes into effect, and EMD can't meet those. So, these will be the last new EMDs we get."

The empty tank cars rolled past on the adjacent track, then the helper locomotives, already notched up to full throttle for the climb to KR. The westbound train's speed had dropped noticeably as the steep mountain grade took its toll. Once it had passed, the switches realigned and out signal blinked to red over green. "Medium clear, Clem," Scott radioed our helper. "Here we go." He released the air brakes and cranked up the dynamics to hold us back as we threaded our way across the main to the runner. Soon we were moving along at a leisurely 25 mph, rocking gently from side to side on jointed rail.

I looked over at Shavonda. She was leaned back in the seat, breasts swaying almost imperceptibly with the train's movement. She'd taken off her jacket and hung it over the seat back, and even in a sweatshirt she was beautiful as she stared ahead through the cab windows. I couldn't resist snapping her photo, then another as she turned and smiled at me. She was enjoying the ride as much as I was. 16 sped by us on the main track, shipping containers and trailers heading the same direction and passing us like we were standing still. Soon another westbound freight appeared as well, heading the opposite direction on the track right next to us.

Kenny and Edie were waiting for us at the scales, filming the train as we slowed to a crawl and rolled through at walking speed. I couldn't resist needling them over my ham radio, "Having a great time. Wish you were here."

"You just wait. Your day is coming," came the reply.

Once clear of the scales, we were soon ambling along at 25 again, with the signals alerting us that we were cleared back out onto the main track at Paint Bank, where our third track ended. We rocked our way over the switches to the right track of the two remaining, and Scott pulled out the throttle a bit more. "I'm on the main Clem," he radioed, then explained. "We start upgrade here. It's not that steep, only about 1%, but we're heavy so I try to get a run for it. Clem will be pushing on the back for all he's worth, and if we do it right we shouldn't drop below 20 before we hit the tunnel."

Kenny and Edie were waiting at the road crossing in Paint Bank as we rolled past. It had become a sort of game to guess where they'd pop up next. I bet they'd catch us coming out of the tunnel at Sweet Springs, but Scott said, "If they want to beat us there they'd better hurry. The road over the mountain is mighty curvy."

Sure enough, as we popped out of the mile-long tunnel and creased the grade, there they were. I hoped they were getting some good footage. The day had brightened considerably, and it looked like the clouds might break up and let the sun through.

The descent into Moss Run was uneventful. About halfway down, we passed a westbound iron ore train clawing its way to the top, grinding along at little more than walking speed. Almost to the bottom, we once again crossed over the main track into another runner that led into the yard. "You're lined for 5 west," crackled the radio as the yardmaster gave us our yarding instructions. "Cut the head end power away and cross them over to six, then double your train against 5 east."

Jacob explained for us. "We're going to pull up to the switches in the middle of the yard and cut away from the train. We'll go over onto track six out of the way, then Clem will shove our train against the one already sitting on 5 east. They run double sized trains east of here, as it's all downhill. Once we've done that, we'll sneak back six to the west end of the yard and couple up to the helper. We'll run as light engines back west. Should be a fast trip once we get out of here."

As we reached the center of the yard, Jacob climbed down off the locomotive and lined the switches to let us cross from 5 to 6, flipping the massive levers that moved the points. He pulled the cut lever on our rear locomotive and we pulled one of the adjacent tracks. Jacob flipped the levers back, lining the switches the way they were originally. Following Scott's lead, we grabbed our things and followed him out of the cab and down the catwalks of the other locomotives in the consist to the other end of our set. As Clem pushed our now former train against the standing cut of cars on the adjacent track, Jacob guided him back by radio, "5 cars...2 cars...1 car... steady...that'll do when you get em stopped." The two trains gently clanked together as the couplings mated, then Clem stretched the now combined train to make sure the connection was made. Once satisfied, Jacob slipped between the cars to connect the air lines, then climbed aboard our locomotive and we started slowly through the yard.

Looking over I noticed a long line of parked locomotives on one of the yard tracks. "Traffic is down, and we just got those new engines," Scott explained. "So we don't need those ones right now." Shavonda picked the 873 out in the line, recognizing the first engine she'd ever been up in, the day we'd first met Scott.

"What is going to happen to those?" she asked. "Will they be scrapped?"

"Not likely," Scott said. 'Most likely, we'll hold onto them until business returns. Since we won't be able to buy new EMDs anymore, my bet is that eventually they'll get a complete overhaul and returned to service. That's the weird thing about Tier 4. Only new locomotives have to meet the standard. Old ones are grandfathered, so you could take one of those, strip it down to the bare frame and build an essentially new locomotive on that frame. But since you are using the old frame it isn't considered a new locomotive and doesn't have to meet the Tier 4. Word is that's exactly what they intend to do. Those SD40-2s were good locomotives in their day. Solid, reliable performers. I think you'll see the smaller 4 axle locomotives go long before they get rid of these ones."

At the west end of the yard, Clem's locomotives were already out on the runner waiting for us, and we gently coupled up behind them. Grabbing our things, we once again threaded our way to the lead locomotive while Jacob hooked up the air lines.

As we entered the cab of the lead locomotive, Scot introduced us to the engineer, an older bearded gentleman who looked like he'd be right at home with a moonshine bottle. "This is Clem. He's been here even longer than I have. Clem, this is Jason and Von."

Beside us yet another westbound freight was stopped, waiting for a helper locomotive to be added to the rear. My ham radio had picked up the chatter on the road channel while we were down in the yard. To avoid confusion, yard moves were done using a different radio channel so Clem probably hadn't heard the chatter. Now he switched back over to the road channel and called the dispatcher. "Moss Run Turn to Dispatcher. Any chance of running us?"

"I can take you if you're ready to do now. If not, you'll have to wait, I got seven westbounds coming. If you aren't ready, I can thread you in somewhere, but you won't be able to get around anybody. I got 4 eastbounds between you and Dolomite. First one is coming through Sweet Springs."

Luckily, we were able to get out ahead of the fleet. As Clem explained, we had six locomotives and no cars. We could move fast. If we got caught behind one of the freights, it would be a long slow trip back. We made our way down the runner just as the freight started to pull. Arriving at the signal, we found the dispatcher had given us the railroad, and held the freight for us. Once clear of the runner, Clem soon had our overpowered consist up to about 45 miles as we curved up the valley to Sweet Springs. Along the way, we passed an eastbound train of grain hoppers, with dynamics brakes screaming as the engineer tried to keep the heavy train under control. Kenny and Edie waved at us from the road. They'd anticipated where the two trains would pass. Sometimes you just get lucky.

Once through the tunnel and down into Paint Bank, Clem turned to Shavonda. "You ever run one of these babies?" he asked. She shook her head no. "Well slide over here into the seat and I'll show you how." Clem stood as Shavonda took his seat, then patiently explained how the controls worked. "Keep her under sixty," he admonished as we sped up the relatively flat and straight track towards Waiteville. We passed two more trains heading the opposite direction as Shavonda, face split wide in a beautiful grin, ran us west. We were good for 60 through here, and Shavonda had the speedometer pegged right on the mark.

By this time, the pointed end of the long mountain ridge above my family's farm was clearly visible, marking the place where our valley narrowed considerably. Looking at it from this angle, it looked like a giant lump, and you'd never guess the ridge was over ten miles from end to end. Near the top, the rock faces of the old quarry where I used to play stood out like a scar.

We hadn't seen Kenny and Edie since before the tunnel, and I wondered if they'd be able to catch us. Our ride was rapidly coming to an end and he had my Jeep.

As we started up the mountain at CP Waite, our signal was a flashing yellow over red. "You want to slow down a little bit," Clem explained, "That's a 45-mph signal." Shavonda eased up on the throttle as we swept around the s curve that started the climb to KR. The next signal was yellow. So we slowed down even further. Evidently, we were going to be held at Ray.