Kiss me

I spotted her across the aisle. Green hair, short skirt, black leggings, round specs, choker necklace. The book in her hands was hard-backed and worn, pages faded and dog-eared. The train carriage was busy, people standing in the heat, but she had a double seat to herself. I guess the piercings had made people wary.

“What a nerd,” Melissa said, not quite in a whisper. I turned and she laughed. “Trying a bit hard at the ‘rebel’ look, don’t you think?”

“I think she’s cute,” I replied, and saw her face fall.

“What? “I didn’t know you were…...you know?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Hey, I’m not judging. Love’s love, right?”

“Right.”

I turned back to look at the girl with the edgy look, and found her watching me, a slight smile playing on her ripe lips. To my surprise, she moved across, patted the seat beside her. To my greater surprise, I stood and crossed the carriage, and took the seat, close enough to be intoxicated by her cedarwood scent.

“You think I’m cute?”

My face flushed. “You heard that?”

“These aren’t on,” she said, indicating her earphones and grinning. I laughed a nervous laugh. “Kiss me if you like,” she said.

My head felt light. I hadn’t kissed a girl before. Melissa was surely watching, too. I’d made one friend since I moved here, and she may or may not tell everyone at work about what she saw.

“Your friend’s watching. Doesn’t that make you hot?” She licked her lips. “Kiss me.”

I leaned forward, heart racing, and placed my lips so lightly against hers that I doubt she felt it. Then I pulled back fast.

She laughed. “That was nice. But now your friend has seen, so can I kiss you properly?”

No sooner had I nodded than I felt her hand around my waist. Firm and confident. She pulled me closer and leaned in, and I closed my eyes. Her lips felt warm and soft, the texture like rose petals. Her mouth opened a little, and I responded in kind, felt her tongue falteringly start to explore, a taste of lipstick and mint.

Her free hand, hidden from view by our bodies, tentatively touched my stomach through the soft fabric of my top, and when I flinched and tensed I felt her pull back. It was my turn to be bold, to lean forward and keep her lips on mine as I felt for her bangled wrist and guided her hand back to my flesh.

She laughed into our kiss, broke off long enough to say, “Can I?” And we both knew what she meant.

As I moved to kiss her jaw, her ear, her throat, I guided her fingers down between my legs, sure that everyone was watching now but feeling safe, protected, a part of something. She pressed her hand into my cotton dress and I felt her fingers over my mound. As I spread my legs, she gently massaged until I couldn’t hold back the moan any longer. On a hard exhale I made a loud, satisfied noise, and giggled into her shoulder as I felt her shaking with her own laughter.

“This is my stop,” she said as the train started to slow.

I pulled away, nodding. “I’m lucy.”

“Come with me,” she said.

As she slipped her hand in mine, I didn’t even nod. I didn’t need to. We both knew.