It was quite pleasant on board the train as we started moving. There was a business man sitting across the aisle with his elementary-aged son, reading him a Dr. Seuss book, enjoying their pleasant time on the light rail. It was all simply pleasant.
And then she got on board.
The doors opened at the Power Inn station, and an uniquely dressed woman sauntered in with an unattractive man, who was looking as happy as can be. The two of them plopped down in the empty seats that were directly facing me and Jayne.
Judging from the way she dressed, it was apparent why she was with this guy. High heels and knee-length fishnet stockings. Dyed red hair and excessive makeup. Strategically placed tattoos and creatively positioned piercings. Top it all off with a black miniskirt and a blue tank top so tight and revealing that her abundant breasts became a pair of prisoners that couldn't wait to bust out of their cotton cage to wreak more havoc on society.
This guy she was with just had to be paying her for company. He looked like your typical southern hick, complete with the trucker hat, dirty jeans, plaid shirt, and of course a mullet. He wouldn't have looked out of place at a mangy flea market in backwoods Alabama, but here he was, in Sacramento, with a woman who was only attracted to his wallet.
They decided to get a little friendly.
The train started moving and within mere seconds of them sitting down, she leaned slightly over and wrapped both arms around his neck, all the while smiling and giggling. She slid one of her legs onto his lap and used it to gently caress him where it counts. Of course, still giggling. The guy, smiling, tried to say something to her, but mumbled so carelessly that any possible comprehension of his phrase was lost. She kept giggling. Who knows. Maybe she thought it was funny.
"Next stop, Watt/Manlove." Only three more stops to our destination.
She started to play with his hair, continue to giggle, and rub a little more. Her companion was smiling like an idiot, obviously loving every minute of it. The lady drew her lips close to his face, and began to whisper to him. I turned to Jayne to quietly mention my feelings of awkwardness, but as I turned back, it got out of control.
She was now totally licking his ear!
This wasn't a "I'm a kitten trying to get water" type of lick. This was a full on "your face is a melting ice cream cone and I happen to be Gene Simmons" type of lick! Right in front of me, not even five feet away, is Miss Tongue giving Alabama Joe an ear-waxing while rubbing his junk with her leg and giggling, while he is looking heavenward with a huge grin on his face and chuckles dribbling out of his mouth. Looking around I could see that everyone was as equally horrified as I was. The business man across the aisle had even repositioned his body somewhat to keep his young son from witnessing the dirty deed. Yet there they sat, either completely oblivious to their surroundings or entirely apathetic to the fact that there were many people who could see and hear their pre-game festivities.
For about two more minutes the giggles, chuckles, slimy ears, and intentional leg movements kept going, and they kept getting a little louder, totally offending everyone on board. Finally, just when his chuckles became too loud and unbearable, the voice of an angel penetrated through the love-sounds, much like her tongue was penetrating his ear canal!
"Next stop, Butterfield." Oh Yes! Yes yes! Oh what sweet relief!
Jayne and I wondered how much better walking would have been as we grabbed our things and ran from our seats to the exit, waiting eagerly to hop off the train and leave the two lovebirds, and that memory, behind.
The light rail slowed. The light rail stopped. Through the windows we could see Butterfield station, our land of freedom. Finally, the doors of the Sacramento light rail opened, and we hopped off the train. Those doors couldn't have opened any sooner.
This version is definitely an improvement.
ReplyDeleteIn spots, perhaps to show some style, the writer is a little wordy.
'The light rail slowed. The light rail stopped.Through the windows we could see Butterfield station, our land of freedom.'
Instead, the writer might have tightened with: "The light rail slowed and stopped and we could see freedom - Butterfield Station."
Also, earlier, when the writer says: "an uniquely dressed woman sauntered in..."
The writer should avoid the broad language (bad pun, sorry) and instead just tell what she wore... Especially because this version is more descriptive with the colors...
Overall, better...