Chapter 3

“Um, hello? Is this compartment taken?”
Gavin stirred, the memory popped like a delicious soap bubble as he turned his gaze to the compartment door, which he had closed to better concentrate.

He quickly looked out the window and saw that not only had the train stopped at a station, but that it had picked up its next set of passengers and was chugging off again.

He cleared his throat, “Ahem. Um, no—its available if there is nowhere else for you to sit.” Gavin politely gestured to his expansive workstation.

“Sorry,” the woman said with a slight wince, “everywhere else is full up and I have a spot of work to do myself. I am very quiet and won’t take up much room.” She gestured at the table and to his many spread out things.

He nodded and gestured welcome with one hand.

“Thanks, um?”

“Gavin. And you are?”

“Jacqueline, but I go by Jackie.” She reached out and he half-stood and reached over the table and they shook hands.

Gavin noted that as she sat down, she looked about a decade younger than himself. She had long brunette hair, fine eyebrows and warm brown eyes. She had a full face and was a full-figured girl, though she was wearing expensively-cut travelling clothes that concealed her well.

She reached into a tote bag and pulled out a top-of-the-line MacBook and began typing away. Gavin noted with a smile that the keyboard was completely silent.

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Gavin was in his own rhythm, another thing about trains he loved.

The rhythmic and predictable clatter of the giant centipede of a machine crawling along the track in a predetermined direction carrying its many denizens. There were no distractions. No turbulence. And, in his near silent compartment, it allowed him to completely focus.

It had been about three hours since Gavin and his new cabin mate, Jackie, had left the previous station. Gavin smiled triumphantly and hit ‘send’ on the document he’d been toiling over. He was sure it was close to some of his best work.

“You seem satisfied about something,” said Jackie from across the table. She’d looked up at him, peering over the top of her computer screen. Her eyes were warm and inviting and Gavin felt like talking.

“Was it that obvious?” he said, reclining in his seat to ease the tension of his overworked back muscles.

“Kind of.” She leaned in, “I was watching you work for a bit. Did you know your tongue sticks out, like this?” she mimicked him perfectly and he laughed.

“Yes, I’ve been told I have a very unique ‘hard work face’.”

Jackie closed the lid of her laptop slowly and folded her hands across it, looking more intently at him. “Do I know you from somewhere? You sort of have a familiar face.”

Gavin noted she had no trace of an accent and might have been an American like himself.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m a writer. Maybe you’ve read my work?” He listed off some of his more notable pieces, but she shook her head.

“Nope, sorry.”

“I’ve been told I have one of those faces.” He said shrugging and raising his hands.

“Well, it’s an attractive face, I mean—” she reddened with embarrassment, “I-I mean, it’s an attractive feature to have an approachable face, I mean.”

She ran a hand through her hair to distract herself, looking at and away from him as she did so, and Gavin perceived the room to heat up a degree or two.

“Hey, what are you working on?” said Gavin, keeping the conversation open and hoping to help the girl from her self-perceived embarrassment.

“What me? I work as a therapist.”

Gavin nodded, waiting for her to continue.
“Individuals mostly. Usually women.”

“Oh, and what sort of concerns do you assist them with?” He said. Gavin found himself interested in this woman, but he wasn’t sure why. Like him, he felt it was easy to talk to her. He wanted to know more.

“Well, mainly I work with things like self-esteem, body image dysmorphia, mental health, relationship concerns, fetishes, death and dying—”

Gavin leaned in, “Tell me more about the fetish thing?”

She reddened slightly and Gavin added. “Obviously, don’t name names to reveal clients or anything like that.”

“Well, fetishes are defined as a form of sexual desire in which gratification is linked strongly to activities, a particular object or a part of the body other than the sexual organs.” She continued, “take your notepad for example.” She lifted it up and noted its leatherbound cover, “I have a client who has a sexual fetish with all things leather. Her body is conditioned to become aroused at the sight or lightest touch of anything covered in leather. Car seats, purse straps, watch straps, belts. Things like that.”

“And how do you work with someone like that?”

“I’ve helped her find the core of her original fetish. That is, when it first manifested in her—usually somewhere in childhood or adolescence—where her brain made a pleasurable connection to that particular material. She’s doing much better and can actually touch leather without sexual arousal. She’s one of my banner cases. That’s what I’ve been working on, actually. I’m writing up case studies for future publication.”

She named the magazine and Gavin whistled. “Well, color me impressed, even I have heard of that one.”

She smiled and handed the book back to him. As she did so, he caught traces of fragrance that stirred a memory from within him that he could not immediately place.

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