Tickets, Please
Flash Fiction
I woke to find her watching me. The effects of a vivid, inappropriate dream were obvious if one’s eyes were drawn down. Hers were. That did not help. “Is it hot in here”, I stuttered, rising to open the window of our carriage. “Not yet”, she murmured, “there’s a tunnel coming up, a long tunnel”. Was I misreading the downturn in her gaze, the way she toyed with her hair or the intonation in her accented voice? A long tunnel? The darkness was immediate. Her fragrance was intoxicating as she leaned in, fingers confidently unbuttoning my waistcoat, hand sliding inside. Her lips by my ear as her seductive whisper spoke louder than the pounding rhythms of the overnight express. Hot breath on my skin as her hands felt for me. Darkness preserved my modesty but she gasped as her arm brushed against my excitement. I reached for her. “Wait, lover, I need a moment to prepare”. Breathless, I leaned back, dishevelled, expectant. As the train emerged into the sparkling Alpine sunshine, the door slid back. “Ticket, Sir”. I reached for my passport, searching frantically for my wallet while adjusting my clothing for appearances. Every pocket, empty. My foolishness, her pleasure.
(200 words)
Didn't see that coming!
Loved how you wrote this!