Date: Tue, 3 Apr 2012 04:10:59 -0700 (PDT)
From: Henry Brooks <hankster1430@bellsouth.net>
Subject: The Commuter

The Commuter
Part One

My partner Doug and I bought a small bungalow in Oceanside, New York.  I do
mean small.  It was very expensive real estate, as it was only one block
from the ocean.  It cost us a pretty penny, but it was worth it just for
the view and the serenity alone.  Doug is a teacher, and he was able to get
a job teaching science at Oceanside Senior High School.

I work for a prestigious Wall Street investment firm, which had once been
headquartered in the World Trade Center.  Thank God I had just started
college that terrible year.  The firm lost too many good men in the
inferno.  Doug, of course, no longer had to commute to work, but I did.  I
didn't mind at all.  As I told you, it was all worth it.  Every morning I
took the same Long Island RR train to Manhattan, and then I took the subway
down town from Penn Station.

I had been commuting for just under a year, when it happened to me.  It was
the day I lost all my senses, and I allowed my world to be turned upside
down by an irrational obsession.

It was a hot September day, the day after Labor Day.  I always sat in the
most forward passenger car, because it was closest to the subway upon
arrival.  I think that is why it was always the most crowded car, and seats
were always scarce.  At the Valley Stream station, which is the next stop
after mine, a young man got on the train.  He was about six feet tall,
blond hair and blue eyes.  He was wearing a tee shirt, cargo shorts and
sandals.  The tee shirt read New York University.  His muscles were mounds
of pure hardness, and my crotch started to tingle at the sight of
them. From the bulge in his crotch I reckoned that he wore no underwear.
He was carrying a couple of text books in his hand.

He came through the doors and looked around.  I was smitten.  I could only
lament that the seat next to mine was occupied.  He found a seat just two
rows in front of me, and I was able to view his beautiful blond head.  I
could also swear that I could smell his after shave lotion, which
intoxicated me.  That, of course, was practically impossible.  The aroma
must have come from the man sitting next to me.

I kept my eyes on him when we got off in Manhattan.  I reasoned that if he
attended NYU downtown, he might actually take the same subway train as I
did.  But if he went to NYU uptown, we would part ways at Penn Station.
How foolish I was.  Just wearing a New York University tee shirt did not
necessarily make him a student at that institution.  Why did it matter to
me anyhow?

He headed for the Uptown Train platform.  I was devastated and could not
get over my irrational behavior.  All day long I was distracted at work.  I
could not keep myself from thinking of him (and wanting him).  I prayed he
might be on my home going train.  I searched the platform and waited until
the last minute to board the train.  I did not see him.

The next morning, as my train approached the Valley Stream station, my
whole body went on the alert.  I felt like a hunter seeking prey in the
jungle.  He boarded the train and my groin grew warm at the mere sight of
him.  I wanted to jump up, embrace him, grab his package and kiss him until
we both passed out from lack of air.  Of course I didn't.  He looked around
at the seat situation, and found one at the head of the car.  I relaxed
when he did, because I was afraid he might have been forced to go into the
car behind us.

I closed my eyes and began to fantasize that I was in bed with the
beautiful young man.  We were naked and his cock was uncut.  It looked more
like a baseball bat than a prick.  I grabbed hold of it and began licking
it all over.  It was too big for me to take in my mouth.  Then I mounted
him and began slowly descending on him as his massive tool entered my ass.
As big as it was, it didn't hurt at all.  I was awakened from my fantasy
when the train lurched to a stop at its destination.  I did not see Adonis
(that's what I named him).  He must have gotten up and darted off the train
as soon as the doors opened.

I love Doug, so where was all this erotic Adonis fantasy coming from?  Fat
chance that my fantasies about him could ever come true.  First of all I am
about eleven or twelve years older than he is.  I am only five feet, seven
inches tall, and at least twenty-five pounds overweight.  As I approach my
thirtieth birthday, I am balding at a rapid rate.  I am far from ugly, but
nobody would look at me twice.  Doug is about as average as I am, but maybe
not as much overweight.  We are just as average in the cock department and
we are both cut.  Still, in spite of all that, we are very popular. We both
have the reputation of being the life of the party, and we have a very busy
social life.  Off the record, our sex life as a couple is fantastic, so why
was I being so irrational in my lust for Adonis?

Adonis continued to ride my train, and my car, for weeks.  I continued to
fantasize about him, but that was it.  What more could there be?  I missed
him terribly on school breaks, but he always returned.  One day I tried
something, and to my delight it actually worked.  Instead of taking the
window seat, I took the aisle seat.  This successfully discouraged others
who got on in Oceanside from crawling over me.  When Adonis got on in
Valley Stream it was one of the few seats available.  He excused himself
and stepped over me to take the vacant seat.  I smiled at him and he smiled
back.  My heart stopped working for a beat or two.

I tried to make conversation with him.  "Are you a regular commuter?" I
asked.

Without looking at me, he muttered something which sounded like, "Uh huh."
He opened one of his textbooks, and I took it as a sign not to bother him.
About halfway through the trip he closed his book.  He took out his cell
phone, and reached someone by speed dial.

"Mornin' beautiful," he said.  "Wanna meet me at the coffee shop?  I don't
have an early class this morning...Terrific, I'll see you there."  He hung
up.  I wanted to cry.  He has a girlfriend.  So what?  I have a boyfriend.

Sitting next to him like this aroused me, and I started to erect.  Thank
goodness it was late autumn now, and I was wearing a coat which would cover
my embarrassment.  We didn't talk at all after that, and I even dozed off a
bit.  He was very impatient about getting off the train and he almost
knocked me over.  Who cares?  He actually touched me.

I tried the same ploy again the following morning, and the seat remained
vacant until Valley Stream.  Adonis got on, spotted the seat, and made a
bee line for it.  I figured he wanted that seat because I had not tried to
make inane conversation the day before, so I intended to try to keep it
that way.  This time, as he crawled over me, he said good morning.  I gave
him my most ingratiating smile as I pulled my coat over my groin.  For
whatever reason, those two seats eventually became our seats.  It reminded
me of our seats in church.  They were not assigned, but everybody always
gravitated to the same pew and the same seats.  It's a really strange
phenomenon.  My bingo playing pals tell me that the same kind of seat habit
occurs at the bingo halls also.

I could go on conjecturing about this seat fetish for hours, but all I
really cared about at the time is that we got to sit together every
morning.  We spoke very little, but eventually we introduced ourselves, and
I knew that his name was Steven Ross, and he knew that I was James Hicks.
Slowly, little by little, we began to have short conversations.  He was
majoring in Management Information Systems.  He had just turned nineteen
and he had a beautiful girlfriend.  He showed me her picture, and as he
beamed, I got sick to my stomach.

One day he dared to ask me if I was married.  I half lied when I told him
that I wasn't.  I asked him why he wanted to know, and he said that there
was no reason.  The next morning when the train arrived at Penn Station, he
shook my hand and said goodbye.  I looked confused and he said that his
freshman year was over, and he hoped to see me again after Labor Day.  My
world fell apart.  When I got to work, I told everybody that I felt sick.
I left the office and I returned home.  I went to bed and stayed there for
two days.

Doug and I went on vacation the last two weeks of July.  Imagine my
surprise the first day back at work, when Steve got on the train at Valley
Stream and took his "assigned" seat.

"Good morning," I said.  "I didn't expect to see you for another few
weeks."

"I'm going into the city to meet my girlfriend.  I figured I'd take this
train and say hello."

"You flatter me, but I am also very pleased."

Then I got a real shocker.  He asked me, "Do you have to rush right to
work?  Do you have time for a cup of coffee with me?  I really would like
to talk to you?"

Without answering him, I took out my cell phone and dialed my office.  I
left a message with the still unmanned switch board.  I said that something
had come up and I would be a little late.

"Thanks," Steve said.

We found a table in a quiet corner of a coffee shop just outside the
station.  Steve wasted no time.  He looked me in the eye, leaned into me
and whispered, "I'm going to ask you something.  I hope you won't get
insulted if I'm wrong.  You're gay, aren't you?"  I was stunned.  I didn't
want to scare Steve away, and I had never confided that information to
Mr. Macho Man.  "And you have a partner," he continued.  It was a statement
rather than a question.  I finally found my tongue.

"Yes I am, and yes I do, but how did you know?  I thought I was pretty good
at hiding my sexual orientation.  I'm in the closet at work, and I don't
think anyone there even has a suspicion."

"Don't be so sure," he asserted.  "You act masculine enough, but you slip
up.  The first time I suspected that you might be gay, was when you talked
about escaping from the city and buying a home on Long Island.  You said
"we" several times, but you told me you were single.  Another time you said
that "we" never had more than coffee and a roll for breakfast.  If you want
to hide who you are, you should learn to watch those little slips and use
the singular.

I started to laugh.  If I didn't laugh I would surely have cried.  I asked,
and not too kindly, "What's your point?"

"I broke up with my girl yesterday.  One of the reasons is that I failed to
get it up for her several times lately.  Recently I met a really nice guy
in my accounting class, and I gave into temptation.  I let him seduce me.
Besides the fact that I had no trouble getting and staying hard with him,
the sex was fantastic.  It satisfied me in such a way that I knew I had to
be gay."

"Do you think that you may have something going with this guy?"

"No, I just wanted to experiment with him, and see how I felt.  Besides, he
missed home too much, and he transferred to the University of Michigan for
next year."

"We are almost strangers," I said.  "Why are you telling me all this?"

Steve merely shrugged his shoulders, so I continued without an answer from
him.  "You know that I am the last person in the world you should be
telling all this to.  I am happy as a lark and very much in love with my
partner, Doug, but at the same time I am so hot for you, I am holding back
from pouncing on you."

"I know," Steve sighed.  "That's another reason why I'm sure I'm gay.  I've
been picking up on how you felt about me.  If I was straight, that would
never have happened."

"I guess you're right about that," I reasoned.  Then I added, "Surely you
can't have any sexual desires for a fat pig like me."

Steve jumped on me.  "You're not fat," he said.  "At worst you are
pleasingly plump.  You are fun to talk to and to be with, and yes, I could
have feelings for you."

I was more than stunned.  "Where is this leading to?" I asked.

"To a bedroom, I hope"

"I'd be cheating on Doug.  I've never done that."

"No, not at all.  You would not be cheating.  Look at it as you're being a
mentor to me, breaking me in, and teaching me how to be gay, so to speak.
I am sure that eventually I'll find my other half, just as you have found
yours."

Irrationally, at that moment I could swear I heard Doug yelling at me to
wake up.  For a moment I was filled with confusion.  Suddenly I felt my
shoulder being violently shaken.  "You'll have to move mister, so I can get
out.  We're here."

I roused myself from a deep sleep, and swung my legs around so that my seat
companion could get out.  When I came back to reality I realized that it
was Adonis, not Doug, who woke me.  I was back to the first day he sat next
to me, and I had dreamed our entire growing relationship.  I realized that
I didn't even know his name, and that I had created a fantasy name for him.

I came to a bitter conclusion.  I was losing my mind, and I had better
erase Adonis from my thoughts, if I ever hoped to get back to reality.
Then, just as if I had never resolved to forget about him, I made a fateful
decision.  It was too late for today, but I vowed to follow him if he was
on the train the next day.

Part Two

My little ploy did not work the next day.  Someone started to climb over me
at the Oceanside station.  I just sighed, moved over, and saved the man the
discomfort of squeezing between me and the seat in front.  I could barely
breathe until I saw Adonis get on in Valley Stream.  He found a seat
somewhere behind me, but I knew he wouldn't get off until we got into
Manhattan.

The trains were always so crowded this time of day, and I lost sight of him
in Penn Station, but I headed toward the uptown train tracks.  I spotted
him just going through the turnstile, and I followed him closely.  I was
secure in the knowledge that nobody ever noticed me, and he wasn't going to
be an exception.  I even stood close to him in the over crowded subway car.
He actually glanced my way a couple of times and our eyes met.  As I
suspected, he didn't seem to recognize me at all.

I was surprised when he got off at the station before the NYU stop.  I
almost didn't make it out of the car before the doors closed, but I saw him
ascending the stairs and going out into the daylight.  He crossed the
street rapidly and went into a corner coffee shop.  I discreetly peered in
through the shop windows.  A beautiful young woman sat at a table for two.
When she saw him, she jumped up and they kissed with way too much passion
for a public place.  I grew insanely jealous.  If I had a weapon I would
have killed the girl.  When I realized what I was thinking, I became aware
of my growing insanity.  I ran to the subway, and took the train down town
to work.

After that I calmed down for a few days, but about a week later I followed
Adonis again.  This time he went right to school.  I was shocked.  He went
to Columbia, not NYU.  There was another male student waiting for him at
the main gate.  They smiled at each other, hugged and went on inside.  My
curiosity was aroused.  I whipped out my cell phone and called in sick to
my office.  Like the idiot I had become, I waited in very cold weather for
them to exit the building.  There were any number of exits they could have
used besides this one, but I waited anyway.  I knew that I was becoming
more and more irrational, but I was unable to stop myself.

I skipped lunch, and I was rewarded for my patience when they came out
together at about 1 PM.  They headed for the subway station, and to my
great surprise, they walked toward the uptown track.  I was following them
too closely, but I was sure that I was remaining, as always, the cellophane
man.

They exited somewhere in The Bronx.  We were in an area I was totally
unfamiliar with.  They walked two short blocks, and went into an apartment
building.  Every erotic bone in my body was tingling.  Could Adonis be
having a rendezvous, perhaps a sex session, with this handsome young man?
Suddenly I was struck with three thoughts.

The first was ordinary enough.  Should I continue my vigil, or should I go
home and try to relieve myself of this ridiculous obsession?  My obsession
had rendered me incapable of a rational decision, and I knew I would never
leave.

The second was still sort of ordinary.  I suddenly realized that I was
acting as obsessively as von Aschenbach in Thomas Mann's classic novel,
"Death in Venice."  I was stalking Adonis just as von Aschenbach had
stalked the beautiful young boy, Tadzio?  I wondered if I was committing a
crime.  Worse yet, the similar circumstances in the novel did not make for
a happy ending.

The third was pure conjecture and came out of left field.  Could my dream
be coming true?  Was this other young student the one from Adonis's
accounting class, the one who was at this very moment readily seducing him?
The idea was truly absurd, and a pure case of wishful thinking, but it did
help me decide whether I should stay or go home.  I stayed.

About two hours later, Adonis came out of the building.  I needed to pee so
badly, I was about to wet my pants.  I followed him to the down town subway
tracks, and gratefully used the filthy, smelly facility provided by New
York Transit.  We got on the same train and although there was an empty
seat next to his, I took a seat a little away from him, but where I could
easily keep an eye on him.  We got off at Penn Station and I followed him
on to the same train to Valley Stream and Oceanside.  We were among the
first to board the train.  I scooted in behind him and took the seat next
to his.  This time I was determined to make conversation with him.

From the moment he had emerged from his friend's apartment, I could see a
difference in him.  His face had always seemed rather sad, sometimes it
even looked surly.  Now his face was flushed, and there was a Mona Lisa
like smile on his face.  Maybe he had enjoyed male sex after all, and had
finally admitted his sexual orientation to himself.  I hoped that he would
be more inclined to make conversation with me, than he had been the other
time we sat together.

After we were comfortably seated, I turned to him and said, "Hi, I've seen
you on my morning train.  I think we even sat together once."

To my surprise and utter joy, he turned to me.  He was smiling and said,
"Yes you do look familiar."  I had extended my hand to shake his, and he
took it and said, "My name is Steven Ross."  Needless to say, I grew pale
and nearly passed out.

"Are you OK?" he asked.

"Yes.  I'm fine.  My name is James Hicks."

We said very little after that.  I was too stunned to say anything.
Instead I put my brain into overdrive.  What if my dream had been more than
a dream?  What if it had been a prophecy?  I grew bold.  "Are you a college
student?" I asked.

"Yes I go to Columbia.  Don't be misled by my NYU tee shirt.  It used to
belong to my brother.  What do you do?"

"I'm an investment manager.  What's your major?"

"Management Information Services."  By now I was not surprised that my
dream was becoming a reality.  In fact my spirits were buoyed by it.

"Does your firm ever hire summer interns?" he asked.

"As a matter of fact we do.  Would you like me to get you an application?"

"Would I like it?  I'd love it."

"I get on in Oceanside," I informed him.  "I know you get on in Valley
Stream.  I'll try to save you a seat next to me tomorrow, and we can talk
about the internship."

Steve smiled at me.  His teeth were so white they sparkled.  "I am so glad
we finally met," he said.  This is my lucky day."

What did he mean by finally met?  Had he noticed me ogling and stalking him
after all?  Was there a glimmer of a chance that he was attracted to me?
Was my dream coming true in the best way possible?  I grew light headed and
nearly passed out.

Part Three

The following morning, I was able to save Steve the seat next to me by
telling a few people that the seat was taken.  After a few days, when other
passengers saw that we always sat together, they just naturally left the
seat for Steve.  It did indeed become "our seats."

I gave him an application to intern at my office, and he filled it out.
When I brought it to Human Resources, I asked Mr. Sawyers to put the
application at the top of the list as a favor to me.  He was more than
willing.  Nepotism is a beautiful thing.

One day, I asked Steve, "How come a handsome dude like you never talks
about his beautiful girlfriend, and then whips out pictures of her to show
everybody?"

Steve began to laugh.  "Funny you should ask," he said.  He took out his
wallet and showed me a picture of the beautiful girl I had seen him kissing
at the coffee shop.  This time I wasn't jealous at all.  "This is my
girlfriend.  Actually, we used to be a very hot item, but lately not so
much.  We are growing apart.  I think my interest in her is waning."

"Why so?" I asked.  I was hoping for the answer I had gotten in my dream,
but Steve just shrugged his shoulder as if to say, "Who knows?"

In my dream, we had lost touch with each other, for a short while, at the
end of the semester, but now we shared a morning and an evening commute to
our office.  Doug and I did go on vacation the last two weeks of July.  We
made love constantly, and I fantasized that I was making love to Steve.
Doug actually had to tell me to take it easy.  "You're acting like a
tiger," he chided me.  Usually vacation trips are over too soon, but I was
so anxious to be with Steve that this vacation seemed endless.

At work, I invited Steve to lunch as often as possible.  One day he invited
me to lunch, and I dared hope that this would be the time when he would
come out to me.  He had different news, but it was good news none the less.

"Sawyers has offered me a part time job when school begins.  I gladly
accepted.  We'll set my hours as soon as I have my class schedule."

He was so happy, and I was even happier for many reasons.  My hand was on
the table and he placed his palm on my hand.  "I'll be forever grateful to
you," he said." Thanks James."  It was a moment when we should have kissed,
but I had to restrain myself.

"Nonsense, " I said.  "You earned the job because of your talents."

We engaged in a little office gossip after that, and I finally got up the
courage to ask, "How are things going with your girlfriend?  Any better?"

Steve sighed.  "No, it's over.  We don't see each other any more."

"From what you have told me, it's probably for the best.  Are you seeing
anyone else?"  I tried to be cagey.

"Off and on.  Nobody special."

I decided to change the subject.  "Steven," I said.  "Next Thursday is my
big three-o.  My room mate Doug is making me a little party Saturday
evening.  Just my sister and a few close friends will be there.  I'd very
much like it if you came by."  Steve jumped up and said, "That sounds
great.  We'll talk about it later.  Right now, we better get back to the
office before we are both fired."

I realized that I was probably about to out myself to Steve, but what the
fuck.  My prophetic dream was basically streaming itself out like a
previously seen movie being downloaded to a TV set or a computer.  I was
willing to risk it.  The few close friends I had referred to, were all gay,
and my sister had become a bit of a fag hag thanks to Doug and me.  There
would be no doubt in Steve's mind about me, when he came to the party.  I
wished he would ask me directly about my sexual orientation, just like in
my dream, but so far it was not to be.

On the trip home that day, Steve not only accepted my invitation, but he
insisted on coming over on Saturday to help us with preparations for the
party.  He wouldn't take no for an answer.  Right then and there I decided
I had to come out to him before he walked into our house.

"Steve," I almost whispered, "I have something to tell you."  He looked at
me quizzically so I continued.  "Doug isn't just a room mate, we're
partners."

"No kidding.  Do you guys have a business going on the side?"  How naïve
could he be?  Or was he toying with me?  I ignored his remarks.  "No,
Steve, we're life partners, we're a gay couple, and we're lovers."  There I
said it.  I stared straight ahead, waiting for a reaction.  Suddenly I felt
Steve taking my hand in his.  I turned to look at him and he was smiling at
me.

"Did you think I didn't know?" he asked.  "I was just waiting for you to
tell me."  I guess he had been toying with me after all.

"You don't mind?" I asked.  "It won't ruin our friendship will it?"

"So, you think I'm naïve?  You take the prize.  Did you think I didn't see
you following me around?  You were there the day I practically broke up
with my girlfriend, and you were waiting at the building when my fuck buddy
Larry took my cherry.  It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see how hot
you are for me.  And for what it's worth, James, you have become my best
buddy, and I wouldn't mind a little hanky-panky between us.  Do you and
Doug have a monogamous relationship?"

I couldn't answer at first, because I was having too much trouble
processing all this information.  Finally I said, "Kinda."

"What does `kinda' mean?"

"Doug and I occasionally savor the joys of sex with a third party, but only
if we do a threesome."

Steve's eyes lit up.  He beamed a huge smile.  "How about I hang around
when everybody else leaves Saturday after the party?"

"I'd love it, but I'll have to bounce it off Doug."  Doug, of course was
all for it.

After the party, Steve, Doug and I cleaned up all the garbage, and packed
the excess food for the freezer.  All the while Doug was groping Steve, and
I was getting annoyed.  At some point I grabbed Steve's hand and took him
to the shower with me.  Doug was forced to use the guest bath.

At last the three of us were laying on our king sized bed.  We placed Steve
between us, and began an oral exploration of every part of his body.  His
fully erect cock was about seven inches, and average size around.  He was
uncut.  My restraint gave out and I pounced on his cock.  Doug began to
sensuously rim the eager boy.  While Doug continued his rimming, I jumped
up, greased my ass and Steve's cock, and began to sit down on him.  When he
was in my ass to the hilt, I had to notice that I had no pain just like in
my dream.  When Steve came gushing up my ass, I wanted to suck the rest of
his stuff out of him, but as I pulled away, everything went black.  In the
darkness I could hear Doug yelling at me to please stay awake.

I woke up the next morning and Doug was hunkering up against me.  His erect
cock was dry humping my thigh.  We were alone in the bed.

"Where's Steve?" I asked.

"Who's Steve?"

"The hunk that slept with us last night, dummy.  Are you trying to be
funny?"

"Go back to sleep.  You're hallucinating."

"He helped us with the party last night.  Are you trying to gaslight me?"

"What party?"

"My thirtieth, numbnuts."

"Now I know you're crazy.  Your thirtieth birthday is four months away."

I panicked, I had dreamt a pure fantasy about Steve once before.  Could it
be happening again?

I jumped out of bed, and although it was Sunday, I called Dan Sawyers at
home.  I didn't realize how early it was.  It was obvious that I woke the
poor man up.  I could tell that he was still in bed, but what was shocking
was that I distinctly heard a voice ask, "Who is it, honey?" and that voice
was a deep baritone.  I didn't have time to think about it, when I asked
Dan if we had an intern working for us whose name was Steven Ross.

"No, James," he yelled.  "Now let me go back to sleep."

I then called every Ross in the Valley Stream phone book.  I came across
plenty of Stevens, but not one of them fit the description of a Columbia
University student.  Finally, I opened the front door, took in the Sunday
paper, and checked the date.  Impossible.  It was last Labor Day weekend.
I gave out a blood curdling shriek, and Doug came running.

It was right after Labor Day that I first spotted Steve entering the train,
so I was shaking like a leaf when my train stopped at Valley Stream on the
Tuesday after Labor Day.  There were no seats available, and that presented
a problem, but not for Steve.  He came aboard, looked around and leaned
against the door after it closed.  He took out his cell phone and got lost
in some conversation.

I don't know where I got the balls to do what I did next, but I asked the
guy sitting in the seat next to me if he saw that good looking young man
leaning against the door, and talking on his cell phone.

"What guy?" the man asked. "I don't see anyone."

"That's the story Dr. Grayson," I told my shrink.  "When I got off the
train, I did not go to work.  I came right here, and I want to thank you so
much for squeezing me in.  Please, can you help me?"

"I'm sure there is a simple explanation.  I'm going to begin by using a
specialty of mine...hypnosis."  Moments later I was sound asleep.

When I awoke, I found myself in a hospital bed.  My left arm and left leg
were in a cast, and I was heavily bandaged all over.  I opened my eyes to
see Doug hovering over me like a mother hen.  He looked a little fuzzy to
me, so I fluttered my eyelids in an attempt to clear my vision.

Doug gave out a loud, heart breaking sigh.  "Thank God.  You're awake," he
sobbed.

"Where am I?  What happened?" I asked in a raspy voice.  I smiled inwardly.
Those questions were so stereotypical, I thought.

"Some switchman made a terrible mistake, a fatal mistake, on the day after
Labor Day.  He accidently switched your train on to the wrong track, and
there was a head on collision with a freight train.  Both engineers and
thirteen passengers were killed outright, and dozens of others were
injured, some seriously, and others less so.  You've been in a coma for two
days, honey.  You started to come back to us a couple of times before, but
you slipped away again.  Please stay with us this time, baby, please!"

"Where did the accident happen?"

"Right after the train left Valley Stream and reached full speed."

At this moment in time I declared myself to be officially crazy.  My first
thought was of Adonis or Steve or whoever he was.  "Is there a list of the
dead?" I asked.

"Yes, honey.  I saved all the papers.  I knew you would want to see them."

Doug went over to my bedside table.  With my peripheral vision I could just
about see that there was a pile of newspapers on the table.  He removed the
top one.  It was Newsday.  This one is from the day after the accident.  It
not only lists the dead, but it has pictures of all of them."

Doug sat me up in bed a little so that I could see the newspaper.  He
opened it to the page with the pictures of the fifteen dead.  There were
three columns and five rows of pictures.  I looked closely and there he
was, my Adonis, top row, middle picture.  Underneath the picture there was
a small caption, Norris Lipton, 18, Valley Stream, CCNY Student.  The
article contained a little blurb about each of them, and declared this to
be the worst disaster in the history of The Long Island Rail Road.

My recovery was slow.  I didn't return to work for another two months.  I
will never be able to explain the strange obsession I had with the youth
who got on the train minutes before his death.  These days, when I am
commuting to Manhattan, I still see him getting on the train in Valley
Stream.  Sometimes he smiles at me, and other times he totally ignores me.
It's almost like he is teasing me with his sexual charisma.  I am grateful
that the only time I fantasize about him these days is on the commuter
train.  Off the train, the only sexual fantasies I have are about Doug, and
all the wonderful things I am going to do to him in bed tonight.

Rest in peace, Norris Lipton, and please allow me the same pleasure.