"Look, one's purple, the other is pink. They look alike, what can I tell you?" Darren insisted. It took a bit of time to study the Metro map, but once we got through our confusion, we finally did figure out the proper route.

"Darren, you're not colourblind. And even if you were, I'm sure you could tell an 8 apart from a 7." We were on a northbound train to Madeleine, where we would catch the 14 to get the aforementioned 7, which would let us off three blocks from our hotel. It was 5:30am on a Saturday morning, so except for a local homeless man stretched out across three seats on the opposite end of the car, we were alone.

Darren and I were sitting together on a hard bench in the middle of the clean, garishly lit car. So unlike New York--everything new, no graffiti, no garbage. I felt as if we were on a movie set, the other man a conveniently placed prop in our little scene, the pregnant pause a dramatic device placed for effect.

"You're still pissed at me," Darren said, breaking the silence.

"I'm not pissed at you."

"Yes, you are," Darren persevered, angling his head to the right and cupping my chin. "I can tell when you're angry. Male intuition."

I scrunched my nose; I despised losing in any manner, especially to Darren. Even when he's right. "Isn't the female supposed to be the gender with the intuition?"

Darren mulled this over, placing a finger on his cheekbone. "Perhaps," he answered, "but I am for equality of the sexes, and I say if there is such a thing as female intuition, there has to be the same for men."

"You're playing into my weak point."

"Oh am I?" Darren raised an eyebrow. He knows another thing that drives me crazy--and not in a good way either--is when he matches me thought for thought.

Slightly exasperated, I pouted to show this off. "I hate you sometimes."

Darren threw his head back and laughed. "A woman's words of defeat." The train stopped, opening the doors on a station as bright as the subway itself. Noone got on. "New topic. Have you ever seen the movie Risky Business?"

"I try to avoid anything with Tom Cruise in it. Or any other manufactured heartthrob for that matter."

"That's too bad," said Darren. "You missed a really good movie." He looked at me, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Your point being?"

Darren's smile morphed into a sexy smirk. "There's just a certain scene in it I wouldn't mind reenacting."

Great. Another battle of the wits started. Now I have to know where this leads. "You're going to dance around in your underwear to Bob Seger?"

Darren let out a small laugh. "I could, but then I'd be conceding the argument to you. No way I'm doing that." The train stopped again, opened it's doors, closed them, continued on its way. "I was thinking more along the lines of that scene where Rebecca DeMornay seduced Tom Cruise on the subway." He placed his right hand on my left thigh, softly stroking inside, starting its journey upward. "Do you remember that?"

Now it was my turn to flash the knowing smirk. Nice try, Darren. "I told you, I've never seen that movie."

His left arm landed on my right shoulder, drawing me close to him, closer, until his lips were touching mine, his tongue inching into my mouth, meeting my own. A small sigh escaped my lips as the kiss grew in depth and intensity, turning into a quiet moan when his right hand reached its destination. Electric thrills surged through me as his fingers brushed across my clit, liquid heat seeping out. His warm breath tickled my ear, teeth nipping the lobe.

"I don't think that's a requirement," he said, his tongue flicking at the upper cartilege. Darren's fingers teasingly caressed my slit, then without warning slipped between my delicate folds. One finger, and then two. I suppressed my cries when he grazed over my G-spot.

Nervously I glanced over my shoulder. "Darren," I said in a hushed voice, "That man--he could see us--"

"He could, but he isn't. He's sleeping." Darren swept all my hair to the left, leaving my neck free for his feathery kisses.

"He could always wake up."

"Sabrina, Sabrina," Darren laughed against my shoulder, sparkles of pure sexual energy in his eyes, his tongue flicking at the tender patch of skin connecting my neck with my shoulder. "How often do you travel the New York subways? When they're asleep, they're dead to the world. Or else just dead." My vaginal muscles involuntarily gripped his fingers, sending my body into quaking spasms I did my best to hold back. Darren's thumb drew circles around my swollen bud, as if I presented a challenge to him.

"Let it out," Darren whispered. "Come."

Pleasure tore through me, liquid gushing out and onto his fingers. Darren brushed his free hand against my breasts, leaving me no choice but to surrender to my orgasm.

"Beautiful," Darren said, tracing my lower lip with his tongue. He withdrew his fingers, offering me his slick index finger to lick clean. At the same time, he gently took hold of my wrist, giving me a sly smile when he guided it to his crotch.

"You really are crazy," I said.

"But that's why you love me so much," Darren purred, sneaking his tongue back into my mouth, twisting with my tongue, taking me with him into a world so far away from this garishly lit subway car. Softly, I fondled Darren's cock through his trousers, absorbing his small sigh through my mouth. "Think we should fuck?" he asked between kisses.

My mouth curled upward. "Have I ever told you I love your subtle lyrics?"

"I'm not writing lyrics." Holding hands, together we lowered his zipper, exposing his manhood.

Again I looked over. The homeless man continued to snooze away. "Is my skirt long enough to cover what we're going to do?" I enclosed his cock in my hand, hiw warm skin fusing with mine as I began to slowly pump him. Darren suppressed a shiver.

"Climb aboard, young lady," Darren said, crooking a finger. I thought he looked silly with his penis hanging out of his pants. Didn't this man ever get embarrassed?

I lowered myself onto him, tremors starting deep in my loins, taking over my entire being. "Shouldn't I have taken off my panties first?" I asked, leaning into his mouth, kissing him as if it could stop the quaking.

"I spent my hard-earned money on those panties. Don't even think of taking them off." The car stopped again. We broke our kiss, looking to see if anyone would enter. Nobody did. The man in the corner continued to sleep.

Darren licked a steaming trail from the base of my neck to my ear. "Are you ready for a good hard fuck, baybay?"

I turned to him, my right cheek tickling his left. "Aren't I always?"

His response was to roll my aroused nipples between his fingertips, his mouth crushing mine, kissing me harder. My muscles clenched him, riding him, to the speed of the train at first, then breaking free, bucking my hips to meet his thrusts.

"Darren--" I trembled. I felt the hardness of the plastic seat beneath us; he couldn't have been very comfortable sitting like that for too long. Under normal circumstances, anyway. "Darren..." I wailed, louder, no longer giving a damn if the train stopped, if the homeless man woke up, or if any kind of calamity came down upon our heads. Too quiet, much too quiet, was the silence around us.

He held my hands so tight, my lips seared on his, coming up for air only when we absolutely had to. Faster and faster I jumped up and down on him, my skirt covering the evidence.

"Are you coming?" Darren asked, breathless.

"Uh-huh." With nothing to stop me, I totally let go, falling into Darren's strong arms, one hand holding down my skirt, the other gripping his leg, kissing him so hard and feeling so full.

"Come again," he said. He didn't have to; the aftershocks were so close on the tail of my first orgasm, I was barely able to breathe, not that I really wanted to.

"Darren--" He knew how greedy I was once I started to come. One was never enough.

"Hold on baybay, hold on--" Fused together, adjusting as well as those molded seats would let us, his climax mixed with mine, sinking into the severity of it all.

Hard kisses becoming softer, Darren knocked back into the seat, temporarily drained. We smiled at each other, the disagreement forgotten. "I love you, Sabrina."

"Love you too. Zip up your pants."

Darren looked down, saw that his penis, now limp, was still hanging out. "Oops," he said, adjusting himself. I giggled, fixing the crotch of my own panties, leaning my head on his shoulder.

That was when the train stopped. Hurried French shouted over the PA system.

"What did he say?" I asked Darren. "I could only make out the words 'La Courneuve'."

Darren glanced over to the Metro map. "It means--oh shit, I think we're at the last stop." He rose without warning, causing me to fall down on the hard plastic seats. So much for the afterglow.

"You do realize," I said, trying not to sound ironic, "that we're going to have to find our way back all over again."

Darren smiled. "And you mind?"

"Next time I prefer not to have an audience."

He threw back his head, laughing. "Other than that."

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. "Draw your own conclusions." More hurried French over the PA system, sounding almost angry. I had a gut feeling the translation was something among the lines of get the fuck off this train.

Taking one last glance at the homeless man, I saw him smile and tip his hat to me in a gentlemanly gesture. For what I know, his smile could have been sardonic.