Inseparable

Anastasia: Part Six

Gabriel

Charles brought us to the train station, and he kept trying to hand me money for our trip. I assured him it was not required, but I suspected he had given Ana some money. The train's wheels began the rhythmic journey to Atlanta as it departed North Carolina. The anticipation among passengers is palpable as they settle into the ornate cabins. Everything in our private cabin—from the polished woodwork to the plush upholstery—became our little haven. It was pretty lavish, a place where we could hold each other close, letting our bodies intertwine, but the only downside was the cabin was not soundproof, and with Ana, that turned out to be a problem. But in the late hours of the night, I discovered that Ana's cries and groans were mostly muffled on the observation platform. But many people took advantage of the expansive view of the shifting landscapes and the fresh air during the day and early evening.

Ana and I headed towards the dining car after settling in, unpacking a few things, and changing. Laughter, clinking of glasses and silverware, and many diverse conversations all blended to create an atmosphere that instantly engulfed us. There was a strong smell of well-cooked food in the air. I made fun of Ana, telling her I could see her drooling from the aromas. Ana looked stunning in a gorgeous plum-colored dress, and her cascading hair enhanced her magnificence. I got a seductive glimpse of her soft cleavage from the neckline of her dress. I ordered champagne, and Ana chose a mouthwatering shrimp linguine. I watched a waiter remove a cover from a platter across from me, and I could not resist the succulent lobster. We shared our extraordinary feasts with one another. We discussed our plans for arriving in New Orleans, whispered intimate promises for the evening, and gave scandalous details about what we wanted to do to each other.

I felt her foot suddenly slide up my leg in the middle of the conversation. Her toes finding their way to the crotch of my pants sent tingles through my body. Her smile caught my attention; it was a mischievously guilty grin. After our meal, she spoke about her large appetite and that we should indulge in chocolate cheesecake with strawberries dipped in chocolate. It was an absolute delight to watch Ana's sweet tooth take over. She fed me several bites of the cake, then took a big bite out of it and tempted me with a strawberry, saying, "Mmm, Gabriel, I want you to taste me... Oh, silly me, I mean the strawberry." I would have taken her to our cabin and demonstrated to her what a true appetite looked like, but she insisted on hearing the musical performance that evening.

We lost track of time as we sat at our tiny, cozy table for two after we had finished our meal. I could never tire of conversing with Ana. Despite her youth, she has traveled to many places and experienced so much of the world. I want to hear every intriguing story she has to share. She also loves it when we discuss my past, but I tend to veer away from the darker moments. Instead, I share the exciting and unique adventures I've had and the fascinating people I've met. She was fascinated to hear that I had met Leonardo da Vinci and had engaging conversations with him. I recounted encounters with kings and queens, including an awkward meeting with the Pope. However, I kept my loneliness and yearning to belong all those years to myself. She did inquire about what it felt like to live for as long as I have, and I couldn't lie to her. I told her about the occasional overwhelming loneliness and isolation without damping the evening. But seeing her now, I genuinely believe my life has a purpose, and I have found true happiness. My sentiment touched her deeply.

Seeing the time, Ana hurriedly pulled me towards the train car where the entertainer would perform, but the violinist had just finished his performance. Ana felt a pang of sadness at missing it. So, I sat her down on a small loveseat, kissed her hand, and promised to return. Making my way to the violinist, I apologized profusely for missing his performance, handed him a generous tip, and asked if I could borrow his violin. He looked at the tip, then at me, and gladly handed it over, telling me to take my time. It had been 45 years since I last played this instrument, but some things you never forget. I played a song I had composed around 150 years ago, a melancholy and profoundly moving melody. Everyone in the train car turned their attention to me as I poured my heart and soul into the violin strings, never taking my eyes off my bride. I played another song, this one more upbeat and well-known. After I finished, I was surprised to receive a standing ovation. I handed the musician his instrument and thanked him again. I left him with another tip for his time.