Were it quieter, one could have heard the soft pitter-patter of the rain off the metal roof.

But it wasn't.

There was scheduled to be 16 hours of this loud din, the hard vibrations, the shaking, the sudden lurching, and the bumping. CLACKITY CLACK CLACKITY CLACK! WHOOOOONK WHOOOONK!

I was laying on my bed. I was happy. I wasn't sleeping, but boy was I happy. I was on the top bunk. I normally wouldn't sleep on the top bunk, but the light of my life, she had the tendency to fall out of bed at home. While there was a safety net here, I didn't want to take the chance that she'd fall out of this bed during one of the sudden lurches as we went along the decrepit track of the Chessie-Seaboard eXpanded line that runs from Miami, Florida, to Baltimore.

How I wanted to be in her bed, holding her close, like the past few nights had been. Oh, no sex had happened. But I didn't care. That didn't matter. I was ecstatic just being able to, at first, be next to her in bed, and then be able to, as she got used to my physical presence, hold her close to me in my arms. The beds here, though, were too narrow for it to be comfortable, she'd almost have to be on top to be comfortable here.

The past few days had been magic, and not just because were in the place that magic comes alive, either. After so long of talking to her and being so happy about it, I could stare into her eyes, look over her face, and her cute, compact, somewhat immature body. I could look at her almost comically defined features, her huge dimples and laughter lines that made her look even older than her 18 years. I could see her greenish eyes sparkle with a humour that made me love her even more.

Sure, Florida is too hot for my polar-bear tendencies. And holding the warmth of a body close doesn't help. But it was her body. The body of my lover. I could snuggle up to her, feel the warmth of her on my bare chest through her pajama top. From someone alive who had chosen to live their life for me, at great cost, at hard decisions, with many risks, from far away. From someone whom I lived my life for, and for them alone.

I guess I should have felt unhappy, perhaps a tad barren and alone, that she was in the bed below me but I wasn't. She was there. We were heading home. To my home. No, not to mine, to our home. She met me in person but a week before, and she was leaving her life of the past 18 years behind to be with me. She loved me that much.

I heard some rustling below. I hadn't realized I had fallen into a half sleeping daze but I had. I heard her moving about. I figured she had to go to the bathroom or something, down the hall from our compartment. Amtrak's AutoTrain. I used to take the train to Florida when I used to go on vacations with my family. That was before I grew too old combined with the whipsaw of my mom getting a lower income job. Vacations no longer involved the kids.

I hadn't wanted to take the train, I thought it was a silly extravagance, an expense not needed. It cost a lot less to drive and sleep in the rest-stops along I-95. My dad had put his foot down. His son, his precious little boy, was NOT driving 1250 miles by himself, and another 1250 miles with a girl who didn't know how to drive. Fine dad, if you want to pay for it, Ok then, but I sure ain't. He balked at first, but frankly I wanted to drive anyway, so I held out. Eventually he agreed to pay for the train ride with a compartment.

I ain't complaining, though. This cuts 700 miles off the trip, making it 6 hours of driving rather than 14, and less than 3 each day. Who am I to complain about my life being made easier at no expense to me? I guess you could say it was coming out of my inheritance, but frankly I intended for my parents estate to be a drop in my bucket, as it had for my parents, and their parents before them.

Then I realized she hadn't left. I heard her grunting. I saw her head appear above the side of my bunk. Then her chest, in the dim shadows. She pulled back my blanket. She whispered that she couldn't sleep without me beside her. I was glad. I knew our hearts were close and always would be, but I didn't know if the physical attraction was going to be as strong.

It had been a hard and hectic week. I had left my parents house in a fight with them. They didn't like the way this was going. They thought my plan sucked. They had me know that they were not in support of my "hasty" actions. They told me my plans for the future were not well thought out. Mom let it be known that she felt that my lover was not high class enough for a well-brought up, well raised, "good jewish boy" of a "good family" to be going with. I should be going with one of those "good jewish girls" from around where we lived, she told me.

I smiled remembering my thoughts, "good jewish girl?" You mean a bitch like you? All the "good jewish girls" I have ever met in my life have been stuck-up, hypocritical, spoiled bitches. Mom walked the path of status and position in the community that we lived in. Personally, I don't give a damn. My girlfriend is, after all, half-jewish, and on her mothers side, so jewish in the eyes of those who are stuck up enough to nit pick.

And she was the kind of girl I've always dreamed about. I am something of a dominant personality, when I let myself be seen. She is more flexible, a bit more submissive. She isn't a spineless bag of phlegm, but her personality would not clash with mine into a war zone of wills. She was smart beyond compare, she has a good sense of humour, a carefree joy in life, and a sense of the world compatible with mine.

So I was off to meet her, after years of close online friendship and eventually e-dating- a year of being in love. We met, and while she was nervous to the point of shaking, I'd say we clicked pretty damned well. She seemed to like being near me, and we enjoyed each others company. I didn't exactly gotten along with her parents ... but who could blame them? This had been dropped on them like a ton of bricks out of nowhere.

I pulled her close and wrapped my arms around her. Then I was surprised by how warm she was...

She was naked.

My baby girl, my little prude who hated showering because she'd be naked, even though it was private. She was in bed, naked, with me, her lover dressed in nothing but a pair of tighty-whities. And she was clinging to me with all her might.

There had been signs that the physical connection had came with it. They hadn't really gotten much past first base over the course of the time they had in Florida. I french kissed her a few times, and she had been uncomfortable, not really knowing how to respond. Her parents had never really hugged her, kissed her good night, or shown any other real affection. They weren't bad parents, really, although they were selfish and didn't know how to express their feelings.

There had been hugging, and cuddling. Laying in bed at night with my arms around her warm, compact body, after the first few nights. In the beginning, she had been a little standoffish and slept on the other side of the bed. Letting her lay on top of me while I scratched her back and kissed, nibbled and nuzzled her. But nothing had really happened that was particularly sexual.

Her clothes had stayed on at all times. The one time I tried to reach my hand under her shirt to scratch her back, she had reacted poorly. She didn't tell me to stop, and she didn't pull away. I could tell from some of her reaction to it that she did like the feeling of my hands on her. But other reactions and her facial expression had indicated her all-encompassing fear of it. She'd never ask me to stop, but I felt, as hard as it was, that I should, and let this come in due time.

I was happily surprised that she had taken the brave step of climbing up here to be with me. A bit more than surprised. It wasn't like her to take the initiative. It was an indicator of how strong the feelings were. But she was naked. That shocked me practically out of my skin. I've always been very good with putting things to words, and it takes a lot to make me speechless. This did.

"I ... you ... you're naked." Gee, thanks Captain Obvious.

She smiled, moved down me, and pulled my underwear off. "So're you."

I remembered at that point the movie Silver Streak, starring Gene Wilder, Jill Clayburg, and Richard Pryor. One of the characters, a fat and obnoxious man claiming to be a vitamin salesman, called himself Bob Sweet. Bob Sweet had said "Something about the motion of a train makes a girl horny."

I guess that was the case here.

I swallowed. I tried to think of something to say. I swallowed again. Then I propped myself up a bit and looked at her. She looked scared. Very scared.

"Honey ... I want you more than anything." I stammered, "I want you in every way possible. Don't doubt that-"

"I can see that," she smirked.

"Yeah, I guess you can." I replied, "But you don't have to do this. I don't want you to do this unless you are 110% pure positive that this is what you want. I can see your eyes, I don't think you are ready."

"My love, I know how badly you-" she started.

"No," I cut her off, "You don't. The human mind, mine included, is incapable of knowing how much I want you, it is beyond us. But I also want you to be happy. I want your first time to know only love and pleasure. Don't worry about my desire, yet. Just do what makes you comfortable."

She lay down on top of me, and kissed me. I kissed her back, then softly licked her nose with my tongue. A gentle motion, my tongue lapping out of my mouth and moving once over her nose. Then I kissed her nose, then on the second kiss let my teeth clamp down on it softly. A gentle bite, a show of affection.

I trailed my recently clipped nails over her back softly, letting them scratch her, relieving the strain pent up in her back. I was happy, I had never felt so good. She was naked, laying on top of me, also naked. I could feel the warmth of her skin on mine, the gentle sensations as she breathed, her body rising and falling. I could feel sweat on my arms from her armpits. She was nervous.

I'd had sex before. I was no virgin. I'd been with many women. I was something of a wild run-around in my younger years. Sex with random women felt good. Better than masturbating, for sure. I mean, I'd come in a woman many times, and a few even accused me of parenting- thank god for DNA tests.

But what we had done so far felt better than any sex I had ever had. Sex was a physical sensation, and most women in the category I had been with put no love into it. I mean don't get me wrong. It did feel pretty good. I orgasmed, she orgasmed, sometimes more than once. We were having sex, sure.