("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
                     `6_ 6  )   `-.  (     ).`-.__.`)
                     (_Y_.)'  ._   )  `._ `. ``-..-'
                    _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
                   ((('   (((-(((''  ((((
                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
		_________________________________________
		                WARNING!
		This text file contains sexually explicit
		material. If you do not wish to read this
		type of literature, or you are under age,
		PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
		_________________________________________




			Scroll down to view text


















--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 1998.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  All rights reserved. Thank you for your 
consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------

Champagne and Trains: New Year's Eve
by Bernadette (1998)

***

Two people find each other merely by chance on New 
Year's Eve. (MF, strangers, rom)

***

She was surrounded by her casual friends among the 
regulars.

Tuxedos and glittering cocktail dresses abounded in the 
upscale Manhattan-style cocktail bar. All the beautiful 
people from the city wearing seasonal styles and 
seasonal smiles. Glittering credit cards reflected the 
low lights amid loud laughter and soft background jazz.

The silk of her satin pants caressed her body. In the 
glow of candlelit tables, she nursed a vodka martini and 
puffed on a miniature cigar. Those around her were 
patiently awaiting the arrival of new goals and 
expectations, other places and different faces as they 
silently imagined the promise of yet another year.

She was alone. With no one on New Year's Eve.

A crisply dressed young attorney sitting at her table 
with his date politely bought her drinks, but they were 
not the substance she sought. Tossing back her dark mane 
of full chestnut curls, she scanned the room with large 
blue eyes. Too many pretty boys with too much arrogance. 
The few possible exceptions were already paired.

Her last lover had left her in late October on the eve 
of her thirty-fifth birthday. He hadn't called the next 
day to wish her a “happy one.” She never heard from him 
again. Sometimes she missed his sad dark eyes, unshaven 
face, and tangled mess of jet-black hair. He was 
committed to something with which she could not compete. 

He had not left her for another woman or his profession, 
although his work had suffered too. He was out there 
somewhere tonight celebrating with an old, Irish friend 
- man she had never met before whom he fondly referred 
to as “James.”

James lived in a bottle.

She became vaguely aware of those around her, engrossed 
in stock market lingo, the latest in Parisian fashion, 
and pleasantly polite laughter. Despite the elite 
company and the delicate atmosphere, she felt caged and 
stifled. Suddenly she felt an overwhelming desire to 
flee. A vision of running - sprinting blindly down the 
street in incessantly pouring rain –flooded into her 
mind like a tidal wave. She had to leave.

A quick glance at an extravagantly large faux Victorian 
clock on the wall revealed that it was 11:30 p.m. Her 
decision was made. She had to get out of there now. 
After asking a bewildered departing couple for a ride, 
she chose her final destination impulsively.

She spotted her destiny through the rainy car windows as 
a large flashing red light caught her eye. It was a 
dark, seedy lounge - the type her mother had always 
warned her never go into so many years ago. She thanked 
the couple for the lift and told them she was meeting a 
cousin from out of town there. Taking a deep breath, she 
walked into the dimly lit room as if she owned the 
place.

The bouncer at the door inspected her quizzically but 
waved his hand for her to enter with no hesitation. She 
took in a full view of what could have been described as 
a surreal carnival in an experimental film. Most of the 
crowd there were obviously regulars, salt-and-pepper 
bearded men, complete with cowboy boots and hungry eyes 
dancing with bleached “big haired” women who could 
barely gyrate in jeans so tight that they appeared to be 
painted onto their flesh rather than worn.

She walked through the crowd. It was not surprising she 
recognized no one. Inquisitive eyes burned through her 
expensively tasteful attire. More than one woman sneered 
at her as though she were a plump rabbit sauntering 
sanguinely into a forest overpopulated by starving 
wolves.

She stood at the bar, pulled out a cigarette, and asked 
a guy in a cut-off denim shirt for a light. A husky 
voice drowned out Jimmy Buffet's crooning over the fuzzy 
loudspeaker system.

“TEN MINUTES UNTIL MIDNIGHT!”

At that moment she realized she would be standing alone 
in another place, but still alone. Perhaps this wasn't 
such a great idea after all, she thought.

She quickly stubbed out her cigarette and headed out the 
door. She would welcome in the New Year on the nearby 
railroad tracks by herself. She wanted to just stand 
quietly and listen to the city raucously celebrate. That 
would be enough for this year.

He caught her attention just as she was stepping over 
the exit's threshold. He obviously didn't belong here 
either. Straight, short hair the color of golden silk. 
Brooding eyes that locked onto hers to hers never to let 
go. They seemed to be composed of an impossible 
undulating mixture of blue, green, and brown. And he was 
standing by himself, slowly drinking a long neck beer.

“FIVE MINUTES UNTIL MIDNIGHT!”

Then she committed the most gleeful, irrational, 
impulsive, spontaneous, and passionately desperate act 
of her life.

“Are you alone?” she asked, still staring into his eyes.

He nodded affirmatively.

“Me too,” she said. There was no reply for what seemed 
like an eternity.

Neither looked away.

“Really?” He spoke for the first time, unblinking eyes 
still firmly locked onto hers. She continued staring at 
him, unable to speak or avert her eyes from his 
intensity. Finally she leaped.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” she said.

He nodded again. His terseness appealed to her in a way 
she that she couldn't comprehend.

“FOUR MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT!”

Excitement was in the air, and people were beginning to 
yell like prison escapees on a joy ride.

“May I bring in 1999 with you... or am I being too 
forward?” she asked.

For a brief instant she expected no response. For that 
same fleeting moment she felt as though she would run 
blindly into the pouring rain as she'd imagined earlier 
that evening. But he looked at her and smiled. He nodded 
his approval and bought her a beer.

She barely remembered the countdown. She could hardly 
recall the cheers, the fireworks and the noise. All she 
remembered was his mouth, the most sensuous lips she'd 
ever felt on hers.

His lips made her feel as though her entire body was 
burning with hot, liquid sex that was slowly melting 
into a puddle at her feet.

He looked into her deep endless eyes and said, “You, my 
dear, have the softest lips I have ever had the pleasure 
to touch.”

She laughed. Just as his previous reticence had tempted 
her, his current eloquence encouraged her.

For the next two hours they danced erotically, kissed 
with rampant abandonment, and behaved no less mutually 
besotted than anyone around them. She found out that he 
was from Australia, and in the states on business, but 
only for a few days. He was dressed simply in jeans and 
spoke with an accent as fresh as his sparkling smile. 
They reminded her of cool air, warm sunshine, and high 
mountains.

They left the bar holding one another's hands and 
climbed into a black rental pick-up truck. It was so 
large that he had to hoist her petite voluptuous frame 
up inside. He tickled her and called her “shorty.” She 
fell into the vehicle uncontrollable laughing like a 
girl half her age -- ripe and ready for her “first 
time”. He asked her where she wanted to go and she 
playfully pointed at the railroad tracks.

The rain had stopped and the night air was crisp and 
foggy. They followed the wispy outlines of the tracks 
several miles outside of the city limits. As they 
approached a grassy field, she told him to stop. The 
stars were plentiful, twinkling like fireflies on a hot 
summer's night. She dimly recalled that the purpose of 
the insects' display was similar to their own objective.

They ran up and down the tracks, drinking cheap 
champagne out of a bottle. He gently grabbed her by the 
hair and poured the champagne into her mouth. It 
dribbled all over her face and down her blouse. He began 
to slowly lick the champagne off her skin.

A hot eager tongue traced the wetness from the side of 
her wanting lips down the curve of her cheek and into 
the hollow of her bust.

He lightly bit the side of her neck like a first-time 
vampire teasing virgin prey into a seductive pose. She 
freely gave her body to him, tossing her head back into 
the wind as her curls flew into the air. His moist 
tongue slowly slid down until it buried deep within the 
comfort of her now erect bosom. Her nipples needed his 
touch and his saliva to moisten their tips.

The champagne dribbled from his mouth as his lips 
covered and sucked her breasts in a rhythmic fashion. 
His hands had found their way into the seductiveness of 
the satin as he discovered a pool of wetness flowing as 
freely as the bottle from which he drank. His mouth and 
hands were in unison now, as she found herself moaning 
in ecstasy at the passion reverberating through her.

She found herself laying flat on the railroad tracks. 
The heat of the moment was so intense, she wasn't sure 
how she got there, but her half exposed skin was shining 
in the hazy light of the moon. As a mild wind blew, she 
shivered as she realized that she was covered in 
champagne and could not tell where it's wetness ended 
and her own began. He drank from the well that flowed in 
her garden--an elixir more intoxicating than anything 
made by a distillery.

Then they heard it.

The horn blew as the train screamed toward them at full 
speed. They jumped up, half naked, and ran away as fast 
as they could, like startled children ambushed while 
sneaking forbidden delights from a cookie jar.

She had never felt so incredibly high.	It was though 
she'd been set free from the staid rules of a 
constraining and restrictive civilization. He grabbed 
her by the arm and lifted her into the back of his truck 
just when the lights of the locomotive had utterly 
blinded them both. The passing train was so close to 
their bodies that she could feel the wind blowing 
against her like an animal force powerful enough to pick 
her up and carry her away.

She remembered the driving sound of the train, the 
clanking of wheels on metal tracks, the rattling of the 
rusty cars and the beating of their hearts.

He entered her as the sparks from the locomotive flew 
into the truck. His body was moving with the engines' 
rhythm, thrusting like a hungry machine, reaching inside 
her and bringing her back out again. Just as the train 
blasted a final farewell horn, she screamed. He screamed 
too.

As the ripples of pleasure overcame them, fond memories 
of her childhood wafted into her mind. Waving to the man 
in the “little red caboose.” Her face was glowing, her 
mouth glistening, and her skin was as flushed as the 
color of the imagined trolley.

She raised her head, letting her long loose hair fly 
wildly into the wind, only to see the man in the last 
car smiling at her.

He tipped his conductor's hat and winked.

He knew.

END

(c) bernadette 1998

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 69