Luzon Train Journey

The train that runs northward from Manila, deep into Luzon Island is an old steamer. Even the first class coaches are decrepit, consisting of small compartments with four frayed seats in each, two facing two with just room for four sets of legs between, provided the passengers were not jealous of their personal space.. The journey North would take 12 hours and, as night fell, a spectacular thunderstorm raged outside the window.

The attendant brought him coffee, good coffee, and "pica pica," a selection of small snacks: kalamari, shrimp, spring rolls and others, less identifiable. The lights flickered occasionally as the train rattled its way along.

He awoke with a start, his head damp from the condensation on the window he had been leaning against and realised the train had stopped at a station – a grand name for a halt in the middle of nowhere, a single bare lamp burning feebly over a small shelter. The carriage lights had failed or perhaps the attendant had seen him sleeping and turned them off. He felt for his leather bag and checked the pistol was still there – a necessary precaution in this dangerous country.

With a geriatric shudder and several creaks, different from those of normal motion, the train pulled out. He settled back and shut his eyes. The compartment door opened and in the half light he saw her enter.

She was unusually tall for a filipina – certainly a northern islander. He could see her hair was long, black of course, and that she was typically slim but her features were concealed by the darkness. He had no idea of her age until, like a flashbulb, a lance of lightning illuminated her momentarily.

She was young, perhaps 20 and very beautiful with full, dark lips with a trace of lipstick. She wore a long black dress, buttoned from neck to knee.

He was surprised that she sat opposite him but supposed she wanted to use the small shelf that was fixed beneath the window. He was right and watched as she pulled a flask from her old, cheap bag and stood it there.

"Coffee?"

It was all she said and he smiled, unaware if she could see or not.

"No, thanks."

He closed his eyes and dozed.

When he next opened his eyes, the train was moving relatively fast and a constant timpani came from the rolling gear that was soporific. It was still dark but the rains had passed and the compartment was lit by the full, low moon.

She was sitting back and had her eyes shut, her lips slightly parted and her tongue's tip resting just on her upper teeth. He followed the line of her bare right arm to where it disappeared, at her wrist, inside her dress. Beneath the black fabric he saw it moving slowly.

She moved, opening her legs and he saw that some of the buttons were undone. Her hand rested on her thigh, one finger slipped inside her small, black panties. It was moving, caressing her gently.

"Coffee?"

Startled, he looked up. Her dark eyes were fixed on his.

"Rum?" he asked.

She nodded and he reached into his bag, moving the Browning and taking out the bottle of local, golden Tanduhay rum. He pulled two metal cups out too and poured a measure into each. He offered it to her and, with a movement of her head she indicated the shelf. He placed her cup there. Her hand had not moved but he resisted the temptation to stare.

Her left hand moved to the buttons between her breasts and she opened her dress, never taking her eyes from him. She exposed her left breast, small and with a dark, large nipple like a thimble which she held between long, perfect nails.

Suddenly, he was aware of her foot resting on the leading edge of his seat between his thighs. He sipped his rum to give himself time to think. Her foot moved and rested gently on his groin and began to move in time with the train's rocking and the movements of her fingers, both at her breast and clitoris.

She lifted her foot down and stood. She removed her panties and dropped them on her seat, her eyes still locked on his. She reached for her rum and took a draught, replaced the cup and reached down to his trousers. She unzipped his jeans and pulled them down as he lifted his rear to help. She liberated his penis and those nails raked gently from base to tip as she looked into his soul's windows and her face drew closer to his. Her scent was all around him and her hair rocked against his face.

She knelt over him, a knee either side of his hips and she guided him into her, her vagina contracting and squeezing around him as she arched her back so her left nipple was pressed to his lips. He kissed it, then sucked it in and nibbled it gently. He went to close his arms around her but she pushed them away and knelt, rocking astride him.

She stopped, rose, turned and lowered herself down again. She slid up and down him and, with both hands, cupped his balls and massaged them against her lips as he was drawn deep inside her.

He began to feel the end approaching and she must have too for she rose again, turned and dropped to her knees on the tatty floor. She dropped her head into his lap and took him deep into her mouth. He came as her head rocked and her tongue squirmed around him. She suckled for what seemed an eternity and he lay back with his eyes closed.

He felt rather than saw her slip off his penis and he opened an eye as she sat back on her seat and widened her legs so he could watch her finger work its magic inside her folds. She came quietly, her eyes closing and her tongue slipping out from between her lips.

She sat silently, exposed and still with a finger resting inside herself as her climax subsided.

He dozed.

The shuddering as the train drew to a stop and the brakes' screaming startled him.

She was gone and he was properly dressed. He stood and opened the compartment door but there was no-one in sight. He looked at the compartment. The shelf supported one cup. He looked in his bag and there was the other – clean. There was no sign of her.

He went to the window and as the train lurched in the death throes of its starting again. No lamp at this halt, just the moon's glow and, at the side of the rail he thought he saw the black silhouette but as he peered he was sure it was a tree.

The attendant brought more coffee – "Sorry, Sir – no other passenger."

He left the train and walked down the muddy street to the cheap hotel near the tracks. He hefted his bag with the familiar weight of the gun inside it onto a narrow bed covered in threadbare sheets. The aircon roared and a small lizard showed its head from under a chest then backed away.

He opened his bag and took out his bottle of rum and his cup and began to pour, stopping when he noticed a trace of lipstick at its rim.