Tears coursed down my cheeks as I plunged across the station platform towards the door held open for me by the friendly guard. My heels clattered on the tiles and kicked up small sprays of water from the rain-drenched platform. All I could see was a dark, chiselled face in front of me with pain wrinkling his fine features. Rainwater dripped from my hair onto my face, mixing in tiny rivulets with salty tears. My chest heaved with my sobbing in time with the breaking of my heart. The guard watched me worriedly as I plunged into the tender light of the carriage. How could this happen to me? How could I have let it happen to me?
Can it only have been thirty minutes ago that I was standing in a pool of rain-specked orange light, watching the sheets of tiny jewels rush onto the dark ground just outside of my vision? Pulling back my raincoat sleeve, I looked at my watch with a sigh. It was half past nine already. When was that train going to arrive? Delayed again, no doubt. Probably because of leaves on the line. The concrete pillar next to me, redolent of the grime of a thousand trains, seemed to sigh with me in knowing exasperation. I stamped my feet to try and shake off the chill seeping into my bones. At least I was dry under this black awning, lit by these unearthly orange cones of light. Dry and alone. For a second, fear started clawing at my belly with its uneasy fingers.
My chest jolted with sudden electricity as I heard a scraping noise behind me. Heart thumping out its primal rhythm of panic, I spun towards the sound and realised that the waiting room was not as empty as I had assumed it to be. There was a dark male shape seated calmly in the shadows, its face concealed by the door jamb. He must have been watching me. All the time that I was fidgeting nervously on this platform; scratching my nose and playing with my hair I had been the subject of his quiet inspection. My fear subsided to be replaced by a quiet indignation and embarrassment. I would go into that sheltered den and confront my silent accuser – sit down on that bench and show him that I am unaffected by his gaze.
Pushing open the grey, flaky paint door I took a step across the threshold and into another world. He looked up at me and his eyes, the deep azure of the Mediterranean, took hold of my soul with unstoppable mesmeric power. Meanwhile, a gentle smile caressed his lips with a welcome for me that wrapped itself around me like a thick winter coat. Standing calmly, he stretched his arm out towards the bench.
“Hello. Please. Have a seat.”
“Thank you sir,” I found myself replying and delicately seated myself a body’s width away from him. Smiling genuinely at him I tossed my hair back from my face, fluttering my eyelashes with a tremour. I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks. How can he have such a dramatic effect on me? I am no lovelorn teenager, hormones raging out of control through my newly awakened womanhood. He sat back down, and I saw the clean line of his teeth slide behind his lips. He was a bright flame against the walls behind that had probably once been a shade of magnolia. I sat in silence for a second trying desperately to marshal my thoughts and my common-sense.
“My name is Christian,” he said as if it were the most natural thing in the entire world to say to a rain-drenched woman struggling with her own desires. Slow and tender warmth spread through my belly and I bent my head forward as if to hide my traitorous eyes.
“Natalie. Nice to meet you,” I replied, aware that I was misrepresenting the depth of my feeling.. The lie spilled from my lips easily enough but the realisation that I was captured by the sapphires of his eyes that seemed to know so much about me rocked my very foundation. It was as if he could read the lines of my soul with the merest glance.
The mute darkness was split by the thundering of an express train as it hurtled past our door pushing a wave of impacted air and solid sound before it. I saw Christian’s lips move but heard no sound over the earthquake that was just outside. I took the moment to gather my thoughts. I felt as if my entire being were on the precipice of a momentous decision. One false step in either direction would ensure a plummet into a chasm of darkness and despair just as deep as the timeless night on the other side of the platform. The moments of my life up until this point seemed to be no more than preparation for this initiation of fire. I was terrified - terrified to face the unknown within my own heart. Silence crept back upon us and I looked back at Christian as he leaned slightly towards me.
“You look upset Natalie,” he said, the words rolling over me like a warm blanket. “Is there anything I can do?” The beseeching of his eyes, the brows slightly lifted seemed to highlight the torment wrenching inside me. The shadows washed away from his face like a receding tide and his hands were moving on his knees as if striving to reach for me but held fast by the strength of his will. They were the hands of an artisan, large but perfectly formed with a hidden strength rippling just under the taut flesh. What art could this man be master of? What notes of exquisite music could those fingers draw from my battered soul? With mute desire in my eyes I gazed up at him and he reached across to take one of my hands in his warm, strong grasp.
“Christian!” I whispered hoarsely and slid across the bench, my head burying itself into the coarseness of his grey jacket. I threw my arms around him as if by strength alone I could capture this precious moment for all eternity. My heart swelling with need for this stranger, I could no longer hear those small voices in the back of my mind which read from the history book that my life had written. All I could hear was the deep drum-beat of desire in this man’s body holding a counterpoint to the pulse of my lifeblood as it throbbed in my temples and warmed my being. Meanwhile, his strong, trembling arms had wound themselves around me and held me close to his chest. His head lowered towards me and I felt the warm breath from his lips caress my forehead with a touch as light as thistledown.
“Let me come with you,” I begged with a voice hoarse with emotion.
“Natalie – stop.” He spoke to me in a voice like hot chocolate on a winter’s evening. “I have been waiting for you to enter my life since I first took a razor to my chin. You have filled my dreams with your grace, lit my nights with the light from your eyes and danced through my desire like a bewitching elf.” Tightening his arms around me, he continued: “My love for you would hold you at my side until the stars all fade away but I can hardly believe that this is real. Are you sure that this is what you want?”
I looked up at his face, half-lit by the yellow light above us and the flickering orange lights just outside and it seemed for a moment that the solid blue of his eyes cracked and shimmered with his doubt. I thought of Sean, waiting for me patiently at home with his feet up on the chair and his face glowing with the pallid, ever-changing reflection of the television he was watching. He would have a beer by his side, frosty glass filled with broken rings of old froth and he would flick impatiently at an ashtray on his knee. The smell of Christian’s after-shave wafted through my reflection and brought me back sharply to the present.
His face was hovering over mine and his mouth opening for the touch of my lips. Those glowing eyes were half-closed in eager anticipation. I could feel the impression of those lips in my imagination – as imperative as the encircling arms around me. I couldn’t breathe and felt claustrophobic in an aura of passion. The only relief would be to give into it and let my desire drive my willing mouth.
At that moment the loudspeaker above us blared into life and an unreal nasal voice informed us that the eight thirty from Victoria was approaching the station. An image of Sean came unbidden to my mind. I could see him standing next to me, all top hat and tails, carnation in his buttonhole and love in his glowing face. The hand that gripped mine was trembling and the promises that I had made came back to me like axes in the night; each one thudding with deathly finality into the aura of passion that was slipping rapidly away from me.
I could bear it no longer. I struggled away from Christian and rushed to the waiting-room door as the huge, metal monster screeched to a halt in a rush of wind and rain. Turning back to Christian, my apologies fell onto deaf ears and my heart caught in my throat as his face slid back into the shadows, a mask of darkness covering the searing pain coursing through him. My tears fell freely and I plunged into the concealing rainfall towards the gentle light of the train.
My one and only attempt at romantic fiction :)
Slán
Silverwolf
http://gateway.batcave.net
