It’s been a long day and it’s dark as he walks home. He walks slowly because it’s beautiful. A huge yellow moon, the rustle of leaves, laughter in the distance, the distant roar of cars like the crashing of an ocean.

He leans over the bridge to look down at the railway tracks. Sometimes there are foxes here, furtive and elegant. Tonight though, he sees a woman. She’s lying sprawled on the tracks, her face is white in the moonlight.

“Hey,” he calls down. “Hey, are you OK? Do you need help?”

She laughs, something glints. Perhaps she’s drunk or maybe she’s mad.

And then he hears a train, sees the lights from around the bend in the track. He screams at the woman to move, looks around for help but the street is empty. “Move!” he shouts. “You’ll be killed.” The train screeches by, rushes under the bridge and into the tunnel, a blur and then it is gone. Mist in the night air.

He rushes down the bank, scrambling through brambles, tripping over empty bottles, feels sick at what he might find.

The track is empty. Silence.

“So here you are,” a woman’s voice.

He spins around and she is behind him, tall and dressed in black. Her face looks as though it’s been carved from something cold and hard, a little smile on her lips.

He starts to speak but she puts her finger on his lips and he is frozen.

She takes a step closer. She smells musky like the night, like foxes. Her finger traces his lips, slips into his mouth, her nail is sharp against his tongue.

He didn’t see her undress but now she is naked beneath her cloak. The red of her nipples, the curve of heavy breasts, the sweep of her pale stomach, black of her pubic hair. She draws him into her and he closes his mouth around her breast, sucks on it as though he’s feeding. Her cloak is around him and he’s in darkness; there is only her body.

He sinks to his knees. She opens her legs. Her cunt is smooth and slick, he runs his tongue between her folds, feels her clit against his lips, slips his fingers deep inside her. In the darkness, she presses his head between her legs until his face is soaked with her juices, the taste of her is everywhere.

He doesn’t remember moving but now he is standing with his back against the wall of tunnel, her body pressed against him. His cock is in her hand, or is it her mouth? Warmth and wetness surround him and all he wants is to be inside her. He feels himself pinned to the wall, something sharp in his neck. Her nails? There’s pain. His cock throbs, her fingers find his mouth and he tastes her cunt again.

Then there is noise, light, the thundering of a train coming toward them. He’s blinded, sees death rushing in, filling the expanse of life. She laughs. The points of her teeth, the swirl of her hair, the power in her hands as they pull him into the path of the train; he doesn’t care, he tips back his head and feels her take him, smells blood and feels ecstasy. In that last second, he knows rapture and then there is only light.