A Place To Draw Blood Laughing

I’m altering this 50 posts in 50 days plan to accommodate a more flexible word count. I think I’ll post at least 200 words a day. Hmm. Yes.

I went to a ‘nilla party last night, one train stop away. The party itself was quite fun: I curled up in an armchair with a Dita Von Teese book and an awesome chick I’m trying to trick into being my friend. (I think it’s working.) We made creamy chocolate drinks in the blender and talked about dating men, and dating women, and the differences therein.

I timed my trip back to catch the 12:07 train. At the station I met another girl from the party. We chatted, keeping each other company in the light drizzle. When the train pulled up and we got in the door, we found a group of six or seven young men who immediately started talking to us. “Hey ladies,” they hooted, “how’re you tonight? How about you stay here with us?”

We walked to the other end of the car and sat down, still talking. When my stop came a couple of minutes later I turned to her. “Do you want me to stay on the train with you?” I asked, nodding at the group of men.

“No thanks,” she said. “It’s only more one stop, I should be okay.”

As I got off the train one of the men was hanging from the open door. “Hey girlie, hey, you fucking slag,” he yelled. “Does your friend like to suck dick?”

As I walked up the stairs I looked back at the train windows. One of the men was walking toward her seat. The train slid under the tunnel and out of sight.

I wish I had stayed on the train, and just taken a cab home from her stop. I wish I knew her last name. I wish I had her number. I wish I knew what had happened.

I hope she’s all right.