Left Turn

((Here we go! Onto another game of monopolic twists and turns. Hope you all enjoy.

Yeah, yeah, it\'s not a word. But in the game, you\'re a just tad backwards when you take a...))

Left Turn

The months passed like a dream. Or rather, they became the reality while what he was before was a dream. He wasn\'t sure just how to explain it. A slew of cathedrals and bridges and dark alleyways opening out onto quiet gravel parkways and clandestine courtyards, pastries and chocolates and foods without any taste he could ever really explain.

He\'d gotten a taste for various mild and sharply flavored cheeses, preferring the ones that were almost wet in texture. He liked the moldy sausages you found on the string. French bread was crusty the minute you pulled it out. Belgium made sandwiches with butter and a mild white in between. German ales would get you shit faced before you ever got to the bottom of the pint glass. And a Scottish bartender in a White Chapel bar had given him directions to the best Iranian fish and chip place in London.

The far off world of the Americas that he\'d left behind almost ceased to exist.

Jack Ivenson drew his guitar off of his back as he sat down in a closed compartment of a train. Here, in the midnight train to Paris, he\'d get people who would walk by and by virtue of there being someone in his compartment, would stop and say hello and sit down. They\'d inquire because he had a backpack and looked foreign. It didn\'t matter what kind of foreign, Welsh or German or Czech, all of the students traveling did so in much the same ways, with do-rags on their heads, hair often unwashed, five o\'clock shadows and rummy eyes, and packs well worn by the travel to and from. Unless of course one was Swiss. Those travelers always seemed more put together than Jack\'s mother before one of her famous parties.

Twiddling the end of his guitar case between his knees, staring at the rope tie that holds it to his back, Jack sighed. Eight months. That was a long time. He\'d done a lot of changing in those months. And the man who had been before ceased to exist. You couldn\'t travel and not be changed inextricably by everything you went through. And while he wouldn\'t have ever admitted it aloud, he was starting to get homesick.

He wasn\'t homesick for the big things, New York and his own bed. It was smaller things he wanted. It was the smell out of his cat\'s fur when she came in from the rain and got her wet pawprints over his homework. It was the taste of grilled cheese sandwiches. It was finding a fucking plug-in that would always be the same shape, no matter where you went, what country you were in. It was the sound of his name without a strange accent to twist it up.

Looking out of the window as the train began again, Jack didn\'t look up when the door to his compartment slid open. There were windows and he\'d not pulled the shade down. A muffled expression of distress and something clunked across the empty compartment then fell on the seat next to him. He paused on watching the station slip away into the inky black of the German night to glance at the people coming in, laughing; giggling, really.

A large pack was next to him, leaning against his thigh. A girl followed and with a laugh and an apologetic grin, sat down beside it and in a laughing tone, asked, \"English?\"

\"American,\" he answered, shifting his guitar in case one of the travelers chose to be more clumsy than they\'d already managed to be.

\"Here,\" she called to the door. \"Stay there, you prat,\" her accent decidedly British. \"Pardon me.. I\'m going to set the booths,\" she said and glanced at Jack, then with a smile, heaved her enormous pack up onto the overhead storage rack. Then, turning, she grasped another from her hidden companion. \"Give it here,\" she demanded before stowing a far more travel worn pack next to her own.

Jack, moving his guitar against the wall, under the window, watched her in interest. He knew some of the trains could be converted into sleeping berths almost, seats pulled out on either end and forming a sort of large bed in between. But he\'d never seen it done.

\"Would you like me to do you?\" she asked innocently, staring up at him.

Jack shook his head, choosing to disregard the innuendo there. One thing about traveling, beyond the many tastes and differences, was the blatant sexuality of it all. Alone, one would be propositioned by any manner of man, woman, animal, what have you.

Unconcerned, the girl worked her chairs and did the same to the third set, then climbed in and settled down. \"Now, come in, Chancey and close the door, will you?\"

The young man following looked at Jack apologetically and then fit himself onto one of the \"beds\" before closing the compartment door and pulling down the shades. \"Is that okay?\" he asked with an American voice. Not midwestern. Not pacific...

Strange, how obvious American accents were when one was abroad. \"Wisconsin?\" Jack asked with a grin.

\"Hmm?\" the boy lifted his head and stared with dark hazel eyes. \"Oh, yes. You as well?\" he asked and then made a sound of pain as his partner pinched him. A blush and a smack at the girl\'s hip is all of the silent conversation the two have before he looked to Jack again.

Jack, not understanding merely nodded. \"Yeah. Haveston.\" Then, not to be rude, he extended his hand. \"Jack Ivenson.\"

The young man took his hand after a slight hesitation. \"Chance.\" Their touch was brief, warm, and Chance\'s hand was soft against Jack\'s palm.

\"Been traveling long?\" Jack asked.

\"Excuse me, both of you. Can we get the niceties out of the way when we arrive in Paris? I\'m trying to catch some sleep here,\" the girl complained.

A few grumbles followed a giggle on the edge of her request, but oddly enough, the three of them were far too tired to argue about it and between leaning back and the passing of the odd light or two, Jack found himself sleeping with the others. And the thought that maybe this Chance seemed slightly familiar to him, didn\'t settle in deeply enough to make an impact.

~*~**~*~

Jack woke to a weight brushing against his leg and a soft whisper. \"Don\'t. Leigh, don\'t.\"

\"Can\'t believe you won\'t try for the bloke. He\'s damnably hot and all that, Chancey,\" the girl\'s voice teased. Jack came awake at once with that. Looking at the shadows of the slightly darkened compartment, he could see the girl\'s back and a leg propped over hers, holding her legs down. He stared, entranced by that dominating leg. Talking about a three way? He\'d had that offered to him a time or two. Not that he\'d taken anyone up on it. Strangely enough, after a few sexual encounters which he\'d found surprisingly lacking, Jack had all but taken the oath of celibacy. Sexual freedom wasn\'t what he\'d expected it to be. And besides, he was sure there were a few other things he might have caught from the activities, no matter how careful he was.

Thank heavens he was no monk and hadn\'t taken any idiotic oath. Something about the intimacy of those whispers and the sight of that leg made him want to reconsider his earlier stance.

\"Stop squirming, Leigh,\" the young man\'s voice was a desperate hiss. \"You\'ll wake him. Look, I said I don\'t want to do it. Will you quit? And don\'t try and wake him up again.\"

\"Oh he\'s not awake,\" Leigh laughed softly, turning to look over her shoulder. Jack had only a half moment to close his eyes. \"See?\" she whispered and Jack heard Chance shift and then breathe a sigh of relief.

Not willing to be caught eaves dropping, Jack kept his eyes closed, listening instead.

\"I have one day left, Leigh. I\'m leaving tomorrow morning. I don\'t think I could get him to notice me in twenty four hours.\"

\"Oh come off it, Chancey. If you were straight I\'d fuck you. But you\'re not and he\'s a gorgeous, able bodied, looks to be open minded, male. You have to admit you have a thing for long brown hair and those green eyes, don\'t they make you want to just ...\" a soft sound and Chance\'s gasp followed her sentence.

\"Shit! Yes.. yes!\" Chance was having a hard time being quiet. Jack had to suppress a smile at the other\'s almost outburst.

\"Well then,\" Leigh said observantly, \"Who better to pop your cherry, dearie?\"

\"It\'s not a cherry,\" her companion muttered. \"I\'m a boy.\"

\"Man, dearest. You\'re most definitely a man. I\'ve seen.\"

\"Leigh. Please,\" Chance sounded desperate and a sudden motion coupled with a girl\'s giggle made it rather plain that something was happening. And that Jack could no longer pretend to be asleep, especially after his side was smacked by Leigh\'s elbow.

So it was about that time that Jack chose to intervene. With a grumble he sat up, groggily looking around himself. \"Shit, what time?\" he murmured, staring at them both while trying to get a good look at Chance. The young man was no longer trying to pin Leigh down but he did have a hold of her hand which was about crotch level and his face was bright red. \"Fuck,\" Jack grinned. \"If you\'d both wanted to do that, you coulda woken me up at least.\"

Chance released her hand and with that adorably furious red on his cheeks, sat up so abruptly that he hit his head on the compartment door handle. \"It\'s not like that,\" he stammered, wincing and rubbing the back of his head in pain.

Jack shook his head and yawned, arching his back. \"Whatever, kid.\" It seemed strange, calling Chance a kid. Yet somehow, it seemed fitting.

Leigh laughed and sat up on the other side of the compartment. \"We\'re almost to Paris,\" she stated. \"You going to be here much longer? We were thinking of skipping the hostels for just one night and getting a room at one of the bed and breakfasts. Chance has never been in one before. It would be cheaper if we could get in and split the cost for a two bedroom.\"

\"They count by heads,\" Jack said flatly. He wasn\'t completely convinced he wanted to be the one to take on another sexual notch on his belt. Though, looking at Chance from under his eyelashes, the young man certainly made a rather handsome notch. Jack was tempted.

\"That\'s why you have me with you,\" Leigh smirked. \"I know all the ways around things like that you know,\" she added. \"Now, do you want to cut in or not?\"

Jack shrugged lazily. \"Why not?\" And he deliberately ignored the triumphant smile on the girl\'s face. He had no intentions of falling into a trap of hers. But he might, if given the right incentives, build his own.

((The day is long, but I will strive to have a second chapter out today... wish me luck! *S*))