B - Chapter Two

So there I was, in the back of a taxi being pleasantly molested by a
girl I'd only just met, spoken very little to, yet somehow managed to
find myself in the entirely uncompromising position of being in love
with. Everything about her seemed so right, so unbelievably, mind
bendingly right that I never for a second questioned the ludicrousness
of my highly over-active emotions. I'm in love. They were the only
words running through my mind. Apart from the nagging voice in the back
of my head that was telling me to get out of the taxi immediately and
fuck her in some lay-by.

And as her hand obstinately refused to stop rubbing over my now
prominent jeans covered erection, I finally decided to touch at least
one part of her achingly beautiful body other than her arse, waist and
face. I went straight for her left breast. Well, that isn't entirely
true. In real time it probably took me at least three minutes to reach
it as I was still highly afraid of offending her in any way that would
cause her to bring an abrupt halt to my pre-ejaculatory bliss. Finally
it was there though and I rubbed and gently squeezed round, over and
under that particular area hidden by the thin material of her dress,
guided by her now erect nipple.

Our mouths never parted for the whole time we were in the taxi, apart
from my initial ludicrous outburst wondering what the hell I was, and
more to the point, what the hell she was doing there in the first
place. Now well and truly over my surprise and wonder over the whole
situation at hand, I had begun to relax a bit and just get off with
her. Niamh. I couldn't believe that either. Her name was Niamh, the
name I had cherished ever since I saw some highly unattractive, yet
somehow compelling Irish singer a few years back.

To be truthful, she could have been a pretty bad dog and I would still
have gone with her if she had been Irish and had a name like Niamh. And
there lay the entire point. She wasn't a dog. She wasn't anything that
could even be jokingly remarked upon as being vaguely unattractive. She
was incredible. And she was called Niamh. Every element of this entire
encounter was adding credence to my theory of the dream pull by the
second. Of course my theory led to the assumption that this would only
last for one night and that I would live in eternal torment over the
fact that it had ever ended. I don't care, I thought. One night with
this girl is worth a lifetime of monogamy. You can strike me down after
tonight God, I won't be requiring your Earthly services ever
again.

I don't want it to end, I don't want it to end, I don't ever want this
to end. The words were spinning round my head with her name and the
fact that I loved her. Considering there were relatively few words
involved in these thoughts, my mind was massively overloaded by this
point, but then I remembered what her hand was doing and it all seemed
justified I should feel a little dizzy.

And suddenly it did end. For the moment anyway. We were at the train
station and I realised she had released our binding embrace and was
presently paying the taxi fare. The driver accepted the money, all the
while with a curious look at me. It took me a few seconds to realise
that my hand was still firmly attached to her tit and I removed it
quickly, smiled sweetly, and got out of the car. It was freezing
outside, the wind had picked up quite a bit and was playing merry hell
with my hair and shirt. Niamh had got out at the other side of the car
and walked over to me as it drove away, tyres screeching in the taxi
driver's futile attempt to break the speed barrier.

She grabbed my hand immediately and pulled me away towards the entrance
of the train station. I walked along with her in bliss for a few
moments as we passed through some glass double doors holding hands, she
squeezing mine slightly. The squeeze increased in intensity for a
second and I thought she was being affectionate again, but when she
turned to me and asked the time I realised it was in order to get my
attention.

"Almost half-two," I replied, squinting to read the numbers on my watch
using the general lack of light within the station foyer.

"Bollocks!" she exclaimed, dragging me along, this time at higher
speed.

"What's up?" I asked, trying to keep up with her.

"The last train back to my sister's will be here, we've got to rush,"
she said, looking straight ahead whilst trying to pull her (more than
willing) partner with her.

It's safe to say that when I look back at our initial meeting all that
time ago I realise I behaved like a bit of a fuckwit. She had just told
me the train we were supposed to be catching would probably be leaving
any second, and yet, just as in the taxi, I decided to have an
inexplicable outburst that I now look back on and cringe. I suppose it
can be seen as a logical continuation of what she had just said, but it
was still nerdy as hell. It amazes me that she didn't just dump me then
and there and go home on her own.

I said - "Wait a minute," as she continued hurrying towards the
platforms.

"We can't, we haven't got time."

"I'm doing exactly what Elvis says only fools do."

"What?" she said, I now realise, not as a question, more a mark of
confusion, as we reached some stairs and made our way down them.

"Rush in," I continued, unabashed and entirely dimwittedly.

I seemed to have got her attention by this time as she stopped when we
reached the bottom of the stairs and turned to me. "What the hell are
you talking about?"

"In the song - 'Can't help falling in love'."

"Can you?"

"Can you what?"

"Help falling in love?"

"I don't think anyone can, but I've never really rushed into anything
before."

"Maybe it's time to start."

"Maybe it is."

"Good, think about it as you run."

"I'm running?"

"You are if you want to catch this bloody train."

She was running away down the tunnel and it turned out that her
prediction was spot on as I found myself running after her. We both
sprinted through the tiled interior of the passageway we were in, and
after following the bend in the tunnel, I heard her mutter the word
"Shit". As I fully rounded the corner too, I realised this particular
exclamation was directed at the fact that we were now presented by
various metal barriers in force to prevent fare dodgers gaining access
to the platforms. There were four turnstiles, all about waist height,
although the posts usually occupied by station guards were empty.

"Shit," I echoed, coming to a halt beside her.

She was breathing quite heavily and I tried to keep my mind on the
problem at hand rather than the way her constant inhaling and exhaling
made her chest heave and look downright unbelievable. However, before I
even had the chance to offer any sort of solution to this problem, she
had grabbed my hand again.

"Come on," she said as we started to run towards the turnstiles.

Just before we were about to reach them she let go of my hand and put
her arms out to grab the metallic sides of the barriers. I realised
what she was about to do seconds before she did it and miraculously
managed not to castrate myself as we hoisted ourselves over our
separate obstacles at the same time and landed on the other side. I hit
the floor with my legs still sprinting and consequently almost fell
over and broke my face. Luckily I managed not to do myself an injury as
I stumbled forwards after her and she ran on ahead of me, disappearing
momentarily around the next bend.

I arrived onto the actual platform seconds later and saw her racing
towards the train as a guard's whistle rang out high through the air,
just audible above the hissing sound emanating from the train.

"Hurry up!" she shouted to me, glancing over her shoulder to see how
far away I was.

She jumped into a carriage and looked on anxiously as I ran straight
for her. I stepped onto the metal ledge of the train just before the
doors started to close and she grabbed my shirt as I felt myself begin
to lose my balance and topple backwards. The train slowly started to
pull away and we grasped each other tightly as though letting go meant
we would never be able to hold one another again.

It was a strange feeling, her arms wrapped crushingly around me, her
face in my chest, as I tried to regain a normal breathing pattern. I
made a mental note to try and stop smoking, I'm always far too out of
breath. Mind you, I hadn't run like that for a while and the effort had
been a bit of a shock to my system.

I looked down at her head as she clung to me, the intensity of her grip
slackening as she realised we were both on the train and safe. As our
embrace subsided I looked around the carriage and saw a shabby looking
bloke staring at us. I looked at him for what felt like an age, not
seeing him as being part of reality. The only real people in the world
at that moment seemed to be myself and Niamh and I was damned if I was
going to let that old bastard have anything to do with it. He looked
away from me finally and back at his plastic bottle of cider.

As my gaze returned to Niamh I saw she was looking up at me, staring
directly into my eyes. I pulled her by the waist along the carriage
away from the drunk and into the nearest toilet. The second I had
closed the door she was all over me, kissing me with an intensity that
hadn't been there before. Our previous kisses had been softer, more the
kisses of a proper couple who had been together for a long time. In the
club she had slowly caressed my hair as she kissed me, now her hands
grabbed at me, clawing up and down my back as she pushed herself into
my groin.

I opened my eyes for a second, reached over to the door and locked it,
then turned her so that my back was to the door and she was against the
wash basin. The interior of the toilet was exceedingly cramped and we
continually knocked into things, especially the toilet itself, the
extremely low ceiling and the hand dryer, which sporadically turned
itself on and off as my arm waved beneath it. I was kissing her mouth,
her face, her neck, whilst my hands roamed all over her, no longer
worried that she mightn't want me to. She wanted me to.

She was pulling me to her, running her leg up and down my leg whilst
her hand went straight for my dick again. This time I had no qualms
about where my hands went either and I ran them all over her, through
her hair, over her chest and finally up her skirt. She pushed me away
for a second and I immediately thought that maybe I had gone too far,
but she never stopped kissing me. It turned out I hadn't gone too far
at all as she lifted herself onto the counter surrounding the wash
basin and wrapped her legs around me. Once in that position she grabbed
my hand and put it in-between her legs and I fought against her
knickers until my hand was underneath the material and found itself
touching her pubic hair.

I outstretched two of my fingers and wound them down towards her
vagina, finally finding the opening and pushing one of my fingers
inside. I thanked the fact that I had had a girlfriend for a reasonably
long time as although successful sexual foreplay differs from girl to
girl, there are certain things you can't go wrong with when you start
going for it.

For instance, she was wet as hell and this meant I could go for her
clitoris straight away without having to worry about it being
uncomfortable for her. The fact that I knew where it would be was a
bonus too, although no matter how many women's magazines try to state
otherwise, most lads (or at least, most lads I know) know where it is,
or at least, vaguely where it is, this phenomenon also annoyingly
differing from girl to girl. Some girls have it high up, some low down,
some even have it on varying sides of where you'd expect it to be. The
trick is to find the hole itself and then move your fingers up until
the girl in question makes some sort of reaction and then you're there.
This is what I was now doing as she continued to grind against me and
run her hands all over my head and hair. She gasped. I'd obviously hit
the right spot.

The train was moving at some speed now and though the frosted glass
next to Niamh's head offered no view outside, it intermittently flashed
with an orange glow as we passed various track-side lights. I was
looking at this whilst she kissed and sucked my neck as I continued to
work my fingers up and down and all around beneath her underwear. My
erection was well and truly trying to escape from my jeans by now, but
the space we were in was far too small for me to even consider trying
for the shag there and then. Besides I was pretty damn happy with the
way things were going as it was, and so was she, judging by the look on
her face as she rested the back of her head against the wall, eyes
closed, top teeth biting into bottom lip.

I was still pretty drunk and didn't feel particularly well, what with
the train moving all over the place and everything, as though actually
trying to make me lose my balance, but there was no way I was stopping
what we were doing, I'd waited far too long for this opportunity as it
was. I resumed kissing her neck and she clung to me whilst my hand
continued the ritual of rubbing all the right places, every now and
then placing my finger back inside her to get more moisture and make
the whole thing generally easier.

All of a sudden there was a knock on the door and I froze for a second.
She didn't though, instead she carried on pushing against me, pulling
at my arm to make me continue what I had been doing.

"Tickets," came a man's voice outside the door.

"I'll be there in a minute," Niamh called back, not even opening her
eyes, cool as you like.

"I hope so," I whispered in her ear as she giggled and the man outside
seemed to go away.

I was even more in rapture than I had been for the whole night up until
that point. Nothing phased her. Nothing surprised her. She just did
what she wanted to do. It was so damn sexy that I increased the speed
of my rubbing and she pulled my head to her again to kiss me. She
moaned as we were kissing, her breathing increasing in speed as I
continued with the business at hand underneath her skirt.

Her legs were clasped behind me and the force she was pulling me to her
made my hand hurt like hell, it wasn't the most comfortable position
I'd ever been in, but I didn't care, it was with her, it was in a train
toilet, it was as near as dammit to Heaven as far as I could see. She
suddenly pulled away from my kissing mouth and put her head against the
wall again, gasping in air as I stroked.

"I'm going to come," she murmured, briefly opening her eyes and looking
at me, smiling.

I went for her neck again, running my tongue up and down it, kissing
top and bottom, her chin, her neck. One of her hands pulled at my hair
while the other clawed up and down my back as she came at last, gasping
for the final time, body juddering from her waist upwards. I pulled my
hand away, wiping my fingers on my jeans before going to stroke her
hair.

We kissed again, like we had been doing in the club, slower and more
gently, as she leaned into me, running her fingers along my arm,
finding my hand and holding it. She continued kissing me, stroking the
palm of my hand lightly as she did so, an unbelievable feeling at that
point in time. My head was constantly banging against the low ceiling,
but I didn't care, I could hardly feel anything save her lips, tongue,
and caressing hands. I don't know if I was still dizzy from the whole
experience we'd just had, but I decided once again to say something I
would have avoided like the plague if I'd been in control of any of my
faculties at that moment.

"I love you," I breathed as our lips parted for a brief second.

To be fair, I'm none too sure about the whole subject of the 'L" word.
I'd only ever said it to one other girl in my life before this, then it
was to my one time girlfriend of six months, and, as with this
particular incident, I had uttered the immortal words at a highly
sexually charged moment, or at least, in the earlier case, during the
seconds that preceded a highly sexually charged moment.

I have only truly been in love once before. With a teenage American
actress from an adolescent-angst style program. I couldn't relate to
her character in the slightest, and to be honest, didn't particularly
like her, but as she looked the way she did, I fell in love anyway. She
went on to make various films after that particular series, but her
appeal began to wain as, as she grew older and more famous, she
appeared more and more in the international press who destroyed my
infatuation with her from the original show, fleshing her out as the
real person she was and not the myth I had perceived her to be. The
fact that she got off with all her leading men was a great blow too, as
being the good actress she was, I began to wonder whether she was
really acting or not during her on-screen clinches, making me so
disillusioned with the whole thing that I gave up on her entirely. Her
loss, obviously.

Of course, I have often loved and lost from afar, mainly with random
girls in clubs who I never even spoke to, but who looked very
attractive at a distance and through distressingly strong beer
goggles.

However, just as in the taxi, I knew this was the real thing. The fact
that I let myself go for that second and told her showed the extent of
my emotions, as even when drunk I am usually pretty steady on my feet
and in my head and don't go around saying all sorts of stupid mushy
junk when I don't mean it. I meant it, and I didn't care if she knew.
In fact, I knew that she wouldn't mind if she did know and would take
it with all the dignity and style she had displayed throughout the
night so far. It was because of this reasoning that what she said
immediately afterwards took me completely by surprise.

"I love you too," she whispered back.

I wasn't entirely ready to take this at face value, as considering she
had just orgasmed underneath my fingers she probably did love me, but
not in the way I wanted or meant myself. So for some reason I proceeded
to try and talk her out of it.

"No, please, don't say it back just because I've said it. I'm not one
of these people who get offended if their feelings aren't reciprocated.
I just wanted to get it off my chest that's all. Don't feel obliged to
say it back when you don't mean it."

"I don't feel obliged to do anything," she said, pushing me away
slightly and staring into my eyes.

"Don't you dare think I'd be callous enough to say something like that
if I didn't mean it. I've loved you since the moment you came over to
me and said your first garbled sentence, and I don't say 'I love you'
to just anyone you know, and I'm not saying it because of what's just
happened or the fact that I've been drinking. I know what I feel. I
love you, so you can accept it or not, but it isn't going to go
away."

"Oh," I managed to mumble before she started kissing me again.

This was a shock as you can probably imagine. Not that I expect anyone
to be able to understand or imagine any of this, no doubt if I hadn't
been there myself I would dismiss the entire situation as pure fantasy.
All I can do is tell it how it was. And that's how it was, strange
though it may seem. My head still reels slightly thinking about it even
now, although admittedly not in quite the same way it was doing back
then. The whiskies I'd had in the club earlier for the distinct purpose
of getting me wrecked decided to start working their evil magic while
we were kissing.

With my eyes tightly closed again and the train's motion continually
rocking us from side to side, the churning feeling I had been
experiencing in my stomach suddenly switched itself onto fast spin in a
highly disagreeable fashion that I could no longer ignore. I realised
with complete and abject horror that I was going to be sick. Once I was
entirely sure this was the case and there was absolutely no way around
it, I informed Niamh, hurriedly moved her off the wash basin and
promptly puked my guts into it.

I hate being sick at the best of times, and this had to be without
doubt the exact worst of times for it to be happening. The problem was,
the whole idea of my being sick whilst she was there after what had
just been said and done made me feel all the more ill and made my
gut-wrenching all the worse. That, and the fact that the wash basin in
the toilet wasn't nearly big enough to cope with this sort of thing
going on within it, and so became blocked very quickly, enhancing the
stench and failing to dispose of the vomit in any way whatsoever.

As the old saying goes, I can look back and laugh about it now, but
then it had to be the least amusing thing that had ever happened to me.
I was quite violently throwing up in full view of a girl I was so
desperately trying to impress because I found that I absolutely adored
her. Not so much a faux pas, more a complete fucking nightmare. As the
sickening feeling began to subside and I had the chance to look at
exactly what I had done, I had the incredible desire for Niamh to just
leave me there, looking into the wash basin at the assorted elements
that were supposed to be in my stomach and not in front of my face. In
fact, I was sort of expecting her to just walk out, and was pretty
distressed as well as highly surprised that she didn't.

I was slightly gasping for air, but the air all around me was filled
with the smell of my puke, offering no opportunity for a quick
recovery. She was still standing beside me, I could see that much from
the corner of my eye. Standing there watching me. That, more than at
any other time in my entire life, was the moment when I wished I would
have a heart attack, a sudden seizure, anything, as long as I wouldn't
have to look at her again after what I had just done.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

It probably took me quite a while to answer, I was stuck firmly between
gargantuan embarrassment and wanting to be sick again. I was feeling
slightly more sober though, ridding myself of half the alcohol I had
drunk that night was having a distinct effect on my previous merry
inebriation. Not to mention the fact that this was without doubt the
most fucked up situation I had ever encountered. I finally muttered a
"yes", still refraining from looking vaguely anywhere in her direction,
although I tilted my head away from the sink slightly so that I
wouldn't retch again.

"I'm so sorry," I muttered.

"That has to be the most disgusting thing I have ever seen in my life,"
she said.

I closed my eyes in acknowledgement and regret that I had finally and
spectacularly fucked things up. I should have realised earlier that I
would, although I couldn't have dreamed this particular method up even
if I'd wanted to.

"I know, I'm so sorry."

"If I'd known I'd have that effect on you, I would have prepared
myself. I thought you were supposed to smoke post-coital, not throw
up."

The tone of her voice was just as it had been before, unphased, and I
finally turned to face her to see that she now was sitting on the
toilet seat smoking a cigarette.

"Mind you," she added as I looked at her through slightly bleary eyes,
"I suppose it is me and not you who's just come, so maybe it's all fair
in the end."

"What?" I blubbered, amazed at her calm manner, the absolute composure
with which she was taking all this.

"Here, darling, wipe your face, you've still got bits around your
mouth," she said, handing me some toilet roll.

I took the paper from her and, looking in the mirror on my right hand
side, discovered, once again with horror, that I had blobs of pure
brown gunk on my chin and right cheek. I stared at myself in disgust
and then turned back to her.

"Darling?"

"Well of course you're my darling. I've told you that I love you, I can
hardly just back out of that now can I?"

"I need a drag of that," I said, taking the cigarette from her and
pulling hard on it, regretting it almost immediately, the taste of
smoke mixed with the bile that had just passed my lips was about as far
away from delightful it's possible to be. I leaned over and quickly
drank some water from the basin.

"Are you alright now?" she said, accepting the cigarette back as I
wiped my mouth with the back of my shirt sleeve.

"I've felt much better, believe me," I replied, which still has to be
one of the truest statements I've ever made. I suddenly felt the train
starting to slow down and looked at Niamh for instructions.

"This is probably our stop," she said.

"What do you mean 'probably', don't you know?"

"Well I'm not too sure, I can't see out of the window in here, and to
be honest, I've had my mind on other things. We could have stopped a
million times already and I wouldn't have noticed."

She did have a point, apart from the train's motion making me
physically sick, I hadn't noticed it too much, not that I would have
been a great help anyway, I hadn't a clue where we were.

"We'd better take a look," she said, dropping the cigarette end into
the toilet bowl and flushing it. She made a move towards the door, but
I stopped her before she could open it.

"What are we going to do if the ticket guy's still out there?" I asked,
taking great pains not to breathe on her in any way, if my breath smelt
half as bad as the sink I was anxious not to let her get the slightest
whiff of it.

"I don't know, does it matter?"

"Well, it does if he realises we haven't paid, he might still remember
someone was in here."

"Well think of something then."

"I'm hardly in the greatest of states to start conjuring up cunning
plans."

"It's a good job you've got me here," she said, holding on to my waist,
her eyes playfully smiling up at me.

"What exactly is that look supposed to mean?" I asked her, not sure if
the mischievous look in her eyes was intended towards me, or what she
was planning to do after we had left the toilet. The train was still
slowing at this point and rounding a corner, signalling we were
probably entering a station.

"Darling, you're wonderful," she said, going to kiss me and then
thinking better of it.

I looked down at myself and saw that I had splashed onto my shirt as
well, remembering how my face had looked in the mirror, I didn't
begrudge her this little rejection in the slightest.

"Come on, let's get you home and out of those clothes, you need
cleaning up," she said, unlocking the door, then taking my hand and
leading me out of the toilet and away with her.

"What if we have to pay?"

"I don't know, it costs quite a bit to get here, and I haven't got
enough left on me. If he sees us, we'll just have to run for it."

This worried me slightly, my anxiety over having to face any sort of
conductor was heightened when I remembered my earlier attempts at
running had almost made me stop breathing altogether, and like I said,
it's not as if my lungs are chock-full these days anyway. I have to
think of my health every now and then, you know.

I quickly felt in my pockets, but found that I too was in no position
to pay any sort of train fare, unless it was exactly twelve pence for
both of us. This news was a bit of a shock to me, I'd taken thirty quid
out with me that night and all I had to show for it now was one small
silver five and some poxy coppers. I spend money like an absolute
fucker to be fair. If I ever had a fifty pound note I'd have spent it
before I even felt the paper it was printed on. Not that I've ever even
seen red money before, probably due to the fact that ever since I
became a student blowing stupid amounts of cash that I can't even begin
to afford has become like second nature.

As it turned out, all my fears were in vain anyway, we never even saw
the conductor guy or whoever it was who had shouted to us through the
door whilst we had been in the toilets. We walked from the train and
out of the station, through the streets of the town we were now in
without incident until we reached Niamh's sister's flat.

It's fair to say that the manner in which we first met wasn't exactly
the sort of thing a romance of the century would conventionally be
built on. I mean, I'm pretty sure Juliet never saw Romeo throw up, and
if she ever did, no doubt he'd have said something very romantic and
poetic immediately afterwards. I'm also pretty sure that he never
bumbled a conversation with her in some club on a Friday night,
although he did meet her at a party. Shakespeare had masquerade balls
as normal material, I have to make do with the dirge and darkness of
night-clubs. You've got to go with what you've got, I suppose.

The point I'm trying to make is that it didn't matter what convention
or normality suggested to us, the way I saw it then was whatever
happens, happens, and however it happened was absolutely fine by me.
And, as I have stated on many previous occasions, Niamh was no ordinary
girl, nor was this what could be described in any way as an ordinary
state of affairs. I had felt more with her in the few hours we had
known each other than I had experienced with any other girl in the
years leading up to that moment. Apart from the sex of course, but that
was to come with time.

Everything was happening so preposterously fast. My feelings, our
actions, the whole thing was so intense that I had no time to consider
the absurdity or strangeness of any of it. It seemed so perfect the
thought never even crossed my mind that this was more than a little
crazy. It was an incredible situation to be in, whereby all that
mattered to me was that I had found this girl and that I was with her,
not what was going to happen or had happened before. All that mattered
was that we were together. And at that moment, blissful in my ignorance
as I was of the impending danger to both our lives - the nasty turn of
events that would threaten us singularly and our life together - it was
enough.