It had been a while since the train had started from Madgaon. I switched on my MacBook. A girl, probably in her twenties entered the coupe with her luggage.
“Hi, I am moving into this coupe,” she said. “Mine was dirty like hell and the TTE shifted me here after I complained.”
I was a tad unhappy with the intrusion. I had wished for some privacy to engage myself in official work.
“Rahul sir,” she said suddenly, “I am Preetha.”
“You know my name?” I shook her hand feebly.
She nodded and giggled.
She must have seen my name from the TTE’s chart.
“Working on the next?” she pointed to the open laptop.
I was perplexed with that query.
“No, just catching up with some emails,” I said, closing the Mac exasperatedly. Snoopy girl, I thought to myself.
We sat by opposite windows as the train sped past the idyllic Konkan Coastline. I was all ears to her non-stop banter about her college life, books, movies, etc. Nevertheless, I found myself absorbed in gauging her sensuality and spontaneous intimacy, debating myself on the next moves.
She excused herself to go to the washroom. When she returned, she sat next to me. It was clear that she was taking the initiative and making the moves.
It turned dark as the train chugged through a tunnel. She seized the opportunity. I felt her move and grab my shoulder, turning me around. She kissed me bluntly on my lips, as her arms wrapped around my back in a tight embrace. I kissed back fervently.
She stood up, bolted the coupe door, and drew close the window curtain. Sliding her panty down to the floor, she walked over and straddled me. I buried my face between her exposed breasts. She expertly unzipped me and guided me into her.
She bounced up and down to the rhythmic jolting of the train, her moans getting increasingly louder. I was afraid of someone hearing us outside. We held each other savoring the rumbles of pleasure that engulfed us as we peaked together.
“That was incredible, like a dream,” she exclaimed.
“True that,” I agreed.
We made passionate love again before retiring for the night. We exchanged our phone numbers and agreed to remain in touch. I told her to wake me up before she alighted at Tumkur.
However, I woke up only just as the train was pulling into Yeshwantpur, my destination station. I suddenly remembered last night and panicked. I impulsively looked for my phone and bags. Thankfully, everything was there!
My phone beeped.
Messages from her.
“You are so hot. Just like the men in your books, Rahul.”
Another message read “Best Wishes for Bittersweet Cravings, looking forward to reading it.”
As I walked to the cab driver who was holding a placard in my name, “RAHUL SHARMA”, I typed on Google Search “Author of Bittersweet Cravings”.
I was flabbergasted when Google popped out the image of Rahul Menon, a top writer of erotic fiction, my doppelganger!
TTE- Travelling Ticket Examiner.
PC: Florian Olivio/unsplash.com