Excerpt from Troop Train:
The dining car rounded a sharp curve, swaying violently. Drinking glasses, cutlery and the thin wire caddy containing the salt and pepper shakers, vibrated and slid across their table, teetering on the edge. With cat-like reflexes, Michael stretched out an arm, averting disaster. Both men went about the business of returning everything to its proper place. Two tables down, fortunate hadn’t smiled, as evidenced by the shattering drinking glasses and clattering silverware crashing to the floor. The victims, a rambunctious group of four foul-mouthed sailors, ranted and cursed.
A fat waiter with bad teeth and pitted skin sloshed water into their glasses and took their order, grumbling under his breath about useless busboys. Michael and Keith offered him perfunctory nods and smiles. Galumphing over to join two fellow servers, the waiter groaned as he knelt in the floor to assist in clean up of the broken glass.
“So,” Michael began, shifting his weight to the non-bruised hip, “tell me how you plan to make things up to me.”
After taking a sip of water, Keith returned his glass to the table, chuckling slightly. “Forgive me if I presume too much, but I’ve noticed you’re like me in many ways . . . the adventurous type with a voracious appetite for sex; although, you seem to have a higher tolerance for taking risks . . . how am I doing so far?”
“Dead on, I’d say.”
“Good . . . because what I’m about to propose involves all of the aforementioned.”
Michael arched a brow. “Consider my curiosity piqued, but I fail to see how this makes anything up to me.”
“I’ve made dozens of trips on this train, going and coming from overseas. I have my own automobile in the states. Don’t need to ride this damned train. I do it for only one reason.”
“And what reason is that?” Michael asked, fairly certain he already knew the answer.
“An insatiable appetite for cock,” the sailor whispered.
Coughing, Michael gulped down the last of his water.
“The stories of conquests aboard my ship alone would keep you glued to your chair for months. I wager you’d go off in your trousers after hearing only three.”
“Continue talking in that manner and I may do that here and now.” Michael responded, his cock stiffening.
Keith chuckled, but before he could reply, he noticed Michael’s gaze averting upward and smiling at their inept, obese waiter, who dropped their plates of food on the table with loud thuds, then rushed off without bothering to ask them if they needed anything else. At least a busboy refilled their water glasses, making the horrific dining experience a bit more tolerable.
“Asshole,” Michael and Keith mumbled in unison after the man was out of earshot.
Digging in with knife and fork, Michael said, “at least the steak is fairly descent,” a hint of anticipation in his voice. Since his friend failed to notice the inflection, he hoped Keith might glance up at him, seeing his eager gaze.
“My opinion might not count for much; I’m so hungry I could eat my own shoe,” Keith responded, talking with his mouth full.
Sighing exhaustively, Michael placed his hands on top of Keith’s to momentarily halt the sailor’s feeding frenzy. “Out with it,” Michael hissed.
Holding knife and fork upright in his fists against the tabletop, Keith began. “Alright then, here it is. Most of my nights on a sleeper car aren’t spent sleeping, but rather, skulking.
Michael’s jaw dropped as he slumped over the table just inches away from Keith.
“The world is made up of predators and grazers. Myself, I’m a ravenous wolf, always on the prowl. Here’s the question I put to you . . . are you wolf or sheep?”