The First Time

“What day is it?”

“Pardon me?” Her drifting mind focused and she glanced up at the man beside her.

“The day? Tuesday, is it?”

“Wednesday.” She turned back to face the window, weaving slightly with the gentle rock of the train.

“Do you have the time as well?”

“Seven forty, or thereabout. I got on at seven thirty-five.” She lifted the scarlet sleeve of her coat and glanced at a silver-faced watch. “Seven forty-two, if you need precision.” She turned back to face the window. Her eyelids felt heavy and she blinked slowly, letting her eyelashes rest for a moment on her pale cheeks before opening her eyes again.

“Is it always so quiet this time of evening?” His voice was low and smooth, polished but welcoming.

“Usually, yes.” She tipped her head up to look the man’s face. A barely contained mop of dark brown hair curled across his brow and ears. Piercing green eyes gazed out of narrow, tipped eyes over pronounced cheekbones. He unapologetically drank in her soul, staring into her eyes without inhibition.

“Is this your first time?” She asked, lost in a moment now seeming intimate.

“Yes. My first time.”