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Sisters on the Subway

Sam had lived in Northern New York State his whole life. Right on the Canadian border. It was a forty- minute drive to Montreal from his front door. He had the best of both worlds he lived in a quiet rural farming community, but the big city was only minutes away.

Sam had met his friend Dan while in college. They had been roommates for four years, and got to be the best of friends. They partied hard while in school, and the three years since graduating had gotten together often. Sam going to Dan’s home- town of Poughkeepsie, from which they could either party there, or drive to Albany or New York City.

Dan had finally agreed to drive the four hours north to Sam’s house. Sam had a great weekend planned for them. Montreal was home to a lot of great strip clubs, and they were going to visit them all!

Dan drove up to Sam’s house immediately after work Friday night, and crashed at his place so they could get an early start in the morning. The drive form Sam’s house to the U.S./Canadian border was a short one, and the passage through the border itself simple. You drove your car up to a booth like any toll booth, and the border guards asked the car’s occupants their names, where they lived, asked them where they were going, and how long they would be staying…Standard questions. Two minutes and they were on their way.

The drive from the border took no time at all, and the rural landscape gradually gave way to a more metropolitan setting. The suburbs were typical of any large city. The Saint Lawrence River separated them from their destination. They crossed the Jacques Cartier Bridge, one of many that spanned the river, and drove a short way to a parking lot that Sam knew was well manned, and cheap. They would be taking Montreal subway system, the “Metro”, to get around the city. Sam claimed it was faster, and the “scenery” could be really good.
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First Time With Twins

A season of change, that’s what the years are for as a girl goes through the transition from high school and dealing with the pimply faced, hormone driven boys, to the adult world of college and the men of college. The games in high school are mostly driven and controlled by the girls. The boys are so sex starved they are willing to do almost anything just for the prospect of sex, or at least a hand job. But in college, that’s where the game changes and the stakes get higher. Somehow, almost miraculously, the boys start turning in to men. Men that have goals and expected careers and are full of themselves and what their lives will be. And the games that women play become much more involved as well.

I grew up in a south Alabama town of less than ten thousand people. It was a sleepy little town filled with warm nights and hot days. My mother had died in a car accident when I was twelve and so I was raised by my father. Although I love my father, losing my mother as I was entering my teen age years made things difficult, especially as I tried to contend and keep up with the girls who were receiving training from their mothers on issues of boys, and sex and groping in the back seat.

Quit naturally, my father pushed me into sports, soccer in particular. Luckily I was good at the game and that made things much more bearable. Being raven haired with dark brown eyes and olive skin, made people think that I was of Native American descent. Although I have some Indian blood, I’m not as Indian as I look. In any event, I grew up chasing the soccer ball down the field, a pony tail with feathers holding my hair back as I sped past defenders and the crowd chanted a war chant.
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