Hot 2 Trot

I leave Steve and Katrina in the Clark and Division station. My train is here, going north.

I sit down in a row of seats facing the direction the train is going. I always sit in the direction of motion because I get restless and sort of dizzy if I don't. It's closing in on midnight, but there are people around me, coming home from their Sunday nights. The train is bright and there's a sleepy air about everyone, an end-of-the-weekend feeling.
For a while, I just draw the face of a boy I see in the reflection of the window. The train calls out Fullerton, then Belmont. Almost everyone gets up and leaves. Addison. The boy gets up and I put away my notebook. Sheridan, Wilson, Lawrence and Argyle. I notice that someone is sitting in front of me and he's got his cell phone out.

His back faces the seat to my left. The hood of his sweatshirt is up and he's wearing blue track pants. My mind goes in and out of focus as I stare out the window, and he opens his arms in a stretch.

A very, very obvious stretch. Cell phone in hand, screen facing me, lit up. I squint and look at it.

What is that? Is that...? ...Yep. That's a penis.
It's a thick-ish, dark brown penis. The shaft is darker than the head, which is almost tan. It's wrinkly but erect.

I quickly look out the window again, slightly taken aback. I mean, it's not like I've never seen a penis before. But I wasn't expecting to see one on the train tonight. What was he trying to accomplish by showing me this? Did he think I would jump up from my seat to sit on his lap and compliment his enormous penis? Or wait. I get it, he's a flasher. A more modern kind of flasher. And don't those people get off on seeing you scared? I should just laugh at him. I should just burst out laughing and embarrass him. But oddly, I don't feel like laughing.
I can see him out of the corner of my eye, and I turn my head back casually. I'm not scared. This situation is hilarious, right?

He's still pretending to stretch, and rest his hand on the bar in front of him, and scratch his ear. The dick is still on the screen. I squint again at it.
Is that... on the train? Does he have it whipped out right now?!
On the display I can see the blue of his track pants, a line, and a gray floor. I look down at the floor of the El. Gray. In front of me the man has his legs spread apart, and in front of him the bottom of the seats makes a line. Dear god. Is his cock still out?

I avert my eyes, my mind racing. I really want to insult him. I want to say something or laugh at him. But I can't, what if he retaliates? Could he be arrested for something like this? I should press the CTA call button. Or call the cops. But will they care? It's not as if I'm in any real danger. I've gotta say something, have to get back at him somehow. Okay. I'll do it as I get up to leave.

I turn my head to the left. It's black outside. The reflection of the two of us is shown clearly in the line of square windows.
I can see his overshadowed bulbous eyes, staring at me. His face holds a dangerous expression; it's almost obsessive. It's dark below his hood, and there's a short black beard circling his solemn mouth.
I should have realized. His head was tilted to the left this whole time. He was watching me, gauging my reactions.
My body suddenly feels light and tingly, and my knees start to shake slightly.

"This is Loyola." One more stop, one more stop, one more stop. My eyes avoid the cell phone. He's making it even more obvious now, practically waving it in front of my face. The train rushes past the windows of apartment buildings and finally begins to slow to a stop.

Have to wait until the train's about to leave, or he'll get up and chase me. Am I wearing anything baggy enough to grab onto? No. If he gets off with me, I'll just run down the the cubicle where the CTA man sits.

"This is Morse." The train slows and comes to a stop and my legs shake as I get up, balancing myself with the seat behind me. I face the windows in front of me, looking at the reflection of his shadowy, serious face.

"Pencil Dick," I say clearly to the image, and he turns around in his seat.
"What'd you say?" he demands, voice muffled by the hood of his sweatshirt. But I am not waiting around to repeat what I said. My feet move quickly to the doors and I cut in front of a small group of girls; the only other people in the car. The doors open and I rush down the stairs to the El station.

No one is in the cubicle.
I don't think he followed me, but I turn to look behind me anyway. No one. Only the group of girls at the top of the stairs.
Anger surges up in my chest; the CTA man is NEVER here when I need him. I sigh and turn my back to the cubicle, leaning on the empty glass-paned box.

"Hey, can I use your phone? The pay phone here is broken." A man, also with his hood up, approaches me in the station. His face is almost gaunt and there are deep circles under his eyes, although he looks no older than 25.

I stare at him for a moment. No fucking way, I think. "I forgot it at home. I'm...sorry."

He shakes his head in defeat and looks down at the ground. He tells me that the '7' button isn't working on the pay phone on the platform, and that he's trying to call his friend.

"Oh, I'm sorry, that sucks," is all I say, and he leaves to wait outside the station.
My body is vibrating with nervous energy as I curse the CTA man.
Keys jingle somewhere behind the box and an old man appears behind the turnstiles. I stare at him, wondering what to say. Why did I think he could help me?

"Is something the matter, miss?" He asks, and I glance back to the figure outside of the door.

"Are you usually here?" I ask stonily. He looks at me, confused. "Why is it that there is never anyone here when I need help?" My voice is beginning to shake.
"Do you need help?" He asks, his wrinkled face alert.
"I-I don't know, I'm just scared...nevermind."
"Is someone bothering you?" He says from the other side of the gate. I glance back again to see if the phone call man is still outside. He is. "Is that man bothering you?" He nods toward the other man's back.
"N-no...." Well, technically he isn't. "It-it was someone on the train, I... nevermind." I turn my back on his confused expression. He can't help me with anything.

I pull out my phone. I call Steve, he doesn't answer. I call Katrina, and she does. "Kat?" I say. I realize that the man outside is going to know that I was lying about my phone, but at this point I don't care. "Just stay on the phone with me, okay?" I say as steadily as I can, and I push through the door into the freezing night. I walk past the man without looking at him, and he doesn't follow me.

"I know I pretend to be a strong person, but...." I say when I am out of earshot of the phone call man. "I-I guess I'm not." And to my surprise, I start to cry.