Emerson looked apologetically at her and around him. She didn’t look at him. She seemed totally unconcerned with anything happening, as if she were very accustomed and weary of the whole sardine thing. Emerson realized, though, that his elbow was about level with the woman’s sternum and was therefore cradling the woman’s breast. That realization brought a slight stir to his pants. He tried to repress it but the more he thought about it, the more insistent the idea was. The train jerked back into motion, throwing Emerson slightly away from the woman, maybe a fraction of an inch, for a few seconds, then jerking him back into his position. He felt the heavy brush of the woman’s breast against his arm and forearm. He started to enjoy the rhythm with which the train was making his arm move against it. He stopped resisting it and lost himself for a moment in the warm sensation of serendipitous proximity with what felt like a very well formed breast. How long had it been since he last had. ‘You shouldn’t stand here,’ he said in his best Steve Martin impression, ‘you might melt all ‘dis stuff.’ Jolene turned to see Keith, her boyfriend of almost five years, the man she almost married, towering above her, a smile spreading across his lips. She looked up and into his eyes, his dark eyes the color of mahogany and almost forgot that they hadn’t been together in almost three years. Keith looked as sexy as ever. He was a big man standing almost six foot five with broad shoulders and the chiseled physique that had served him well as a high school and college football star. His biceps strained the material at the cuffs of his t-shirt and his hair, now a little longer than she remembered, hung down over his brow. Jolene just stood there stunned, looking at Keith almost disbelievingly. Of all the people that she could have run into… and she was only going to be in here two minutes… and… ‘Aren’t you glad to see me?’ Keith asked, the smile fading from his face. Jolene stammered..
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