Beggar of Love by Lee Lynch Read Free Book Online

one word: “Angel.”
    The 6:10 clacked into the Dutchess station. Balding businessmen in sports coats and unbelted slacks, carrying black molded briefcases, strode to their cars or walked toward houses off the main streets. Jefferson scuttled behind the last one, imitating his weary, hunched walk, then swirled around and sped back to Angela.
    There wouldn’t be another train until Jarvy’s at seven. Jefferson pulled Angela up and they wandered toward the building, skirting it to avoid the main room and ticket windows, then strolling down a familiar set of stone steps. Jefferson tucked Angela’s arm under her own. She felt as wild and cool as James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause.
    The platform was deserted, but passengers came and left at all hours, so the station was never locked. The bathrooms were downstairs, as well as wooden benches hidden from the street. The slightest echoing footfall on the wooden platform would break the sentry silence that filled the arches and high-ceilinged room of the empty station. They ducked into a short arched passageway that led to a locked wooden door. It was dark and out of the way.
    Jefferson rested against the uneven stones, almost at the door, arms extended. Angela, eyes on Jefferson’s lips, moved to her so quickly she put her hands out as brakes. Jefferson’s lips touched hers again and again.
    “Touch me, Jef. Touch me, touch me, touch me.”
    “I love you, Ange. I love you,” she whispered.
    “Jefferson, we have to find a way to be together. All night. All alone.” She already had Jefferson’s blouse out of her dungarees and was fingering her breasts through their bra. “If only you were going to college here. Why do they have to send you away?”
    “Angie, Angie, come on, baby, it’s only Hunter in the city, a train ride away.” She wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened, but Hunter College, her family’s second choice, had accepted her, mediocre grades and all. It sounded better to her parents than a state school, and it did have a great reputation for physical-education training. She could do anything, according to her school aptitude tests, but she trusted her body most, so Hunter sounded great to her.
    And then there were the bars. Eventually she could go to the gay bars. With or without Angela. She still loved Angela, but she was headed for a whole city of girls. They could be together again after college. Nothing could stop them then, could it? “You’ll transfer there on scholarship,” she said to comfort Angela.
    “Sure, and I’ll be your first lady when you’re president of the United States.”
    “Stranger things have happened,” Jefferson said, finally touching Angela’s breasts under her bra.
    Angela was moving against her like she was desperate. She never got enough of Angela’s excitement and wanted to be closer. She reached under Angela’s skirt. As always the act excited her past reason. She stopped talking, one hand on a nipple, the other inside Angela’s panties. Angela had jumped when she pulled up the skirt. Jefferson laughed quietly, then let herself get swept away. Angela spread her legs as much as she could while standing. She pushed against the heel of Jefferson’s hand. There was no effort involved, such slight friction before Angela sighed into her shoulder to the familiar sound of Jefferson’s exhaled, “Ange.”
    “I want to marry you,” Angela whispered, hand reaching for Jefferson’s zipper. “A big wedding with ‘The Wedding March’ and flowers and you kissing me in front of all of them.” Angela’s kiss was wet, full-lipped, lazy with satisfaction, and Jefferson’s fingers meandered on Angela’s wet parts. Angela stopped trying to get Jefferson’s zipper down and opened herself wider, knees bent. “I want to do this again and again on our honeymoon. Who needs to travel? All I want is a bed and a locked door.”
    “Angie, Angie, we’ll have it all,” Jefferson promised, open-mouthed kisses muffling her