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Description
Chapter Two

This train stinks of cigarettes. Not completely unwelcome. I'm nearly at my destination: Kings Cross, Sydney. The train ride's taken about three hours, not including the stop off at Kiama. That was about half an hour, just enough time for me to change out of my tattered clothes. They were covered in dirt and brambles, probably from my climbing out of the window and running into town. Got some odd looks from some strangers though, which prompted me to change into some more… suitable clothes. Ergo, bring on that sexy skin tight white lacy dress I had collecting dust at the back of my wardrobe. It's a little sluttier than what I usually wear, but hey. If I'm going to Kings Cross, I'm gonna go all out.

So now I'm sitting here, looking slutty. Hair teased up as much as I could do in the trains' shitty bathroom, heels on, and tits out for the boys, as Steph'd say. I laugh. Lord, never thought that phrase would apply to me.

But it's not until the recorded voice sings out from the little speaker on the carriage, announcing that the next stop is my destination, that the reality of what I'm doing hits me.

I've run away, with nothing but a wad of cash, a change of clothes, my iPod and phone, and a shitty fake ID Steph and I made for shits and giggles about two months ago.

Fuck.

Well, I can't do much about it now. Not that I want to. I've come this far, I'll figure it out. I want an adventure. And what place would be better for adventure than Kings Cross? If worse comes to worse, I can always break into our apartment in Bondi, a couple of suburbs away.

Anyway, I jump off the train as it settles to a stop in the grimy station below the bustling hub of the Cross. Along with me, hundreds of other people off load the train. Everyone from business men with Rolexes to cross dressing prostitutes with cheap heals they got from Kmart. And everyone in between.

That's where I come in. I look just like one of those kids from the west, coming in for a night of drinking, drugs and sex. Except I wasn't too keen to do much of that, I just wanted a night out observing stuff. And I wasn't part of a gang of throbbing teenage hormones.

Instead, I'm alone.

Well, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I'm not gonna waste it on idle fears, nor am I gonna turn tail and run back home and curse the rest of my life with thoughts about what if.

Kings cross at eight o'clock on a Saturday night is everything I thought it'd be. The neon, the throbbing bass lines echoing out from the just-opening clubs, the smell of kebabs on the rotisseries, combined with the steady high pitched chatter painted a picture that was so filled with life, so vibrant, it was nigh overwhelming.

As I stood at the mouth of the station, staring down the street in awe and wonder as people milled around me, my dreamy trance is abruptively snapped when out of seemingly nowhere, a short, wavy haired indigenous women barrels into me, knocking the contents of both our bags onto the hard concrete.

"Blast!" I utter as I clutch a railing to keep myself from sprawling on the floor along with my clothes.

"Oi! Don't 'cha have eyes? You bloody well ran into me!" The woman's firey brown eyes flash with annoyance as she shakes herself off and starts picking up her things.

I glare back at her and say as calmly as I can muster "My dearest, I think in this case it's not a case of me having eyes rather than you utilizing your own adequately."

The woman looks sufficiently dumbfounded, so I pick up my things, turn on my heals and walk quickly out of sight as a laugh rings out from the crowd around the station.

Well, that was… something. Thank goodness its early on, otherwise such a small thing might not go so well. Alchohol doesn't tend to make people very… understanding. And it's a good possibility that a punch may've occurred, either on her account or mine.

For now, my stomach rumbles, and I hit up one of the kebab shops. Ten minutes and one but grab later, I leave the establishment with a full belly and a still full wallet. Maybe this look works for me. Or maybe they're already drunk.

So… now what? What do I do now?

"Hey Sugar!" An American drawl calls out in the night. I spin around, looking for the purpratrator, only to find two tall, gangly guys right behind me. Seriously, these guys would have to be at least 6'6. Which is over a foot taller than I can boast.

"Well hey to you too." I say, puffing my chest out so I can seem more confident than I feel. "What are a couple of Yankee's like yourselves doing out in a place like this?"

The one on the left, a blonde guy with odd purple highlights, sneers. "Yanks? Sugar, we're nothin' like 'em northers. Samson 'nd Ah are from Texas." The slightly taller gingery haired guy who I presume was Samson nods, before saying in a deep baritone voice that made me nearly melt into the pavement "As for why we're out here… we could ask you the same thing."

I flip my hair back. "Well I do live here, you know."

To that they laugh. "Well since you live here, sugar, why don't you show us around then?" Blonde-purple hair guy says, winking at me.

Now its my turn to laugh, although it's a girly giggle, filled with glee that my night has finally become interesting. "I'd be honored."

Description
Chapter Two

This train stinks of cigarettes. Not completely unwelcome. I'm nearly at my destination: Kings Cross, Sydney. The train ride's taken about three hours, not including the stop off at Kiama. That was about half an hour, just enough time for me to change out of my tattered clothes. They were covered in dirt and brambles, probably from my climbing out of the window and running into town. Got some odd looks from some strangers though, which prompted me to change into some more… suitable clothes. Ergo, bring on that sexy skin tight white lacy dress I had collecting dust at the back of my wardrobe. It's a little sluttier than what I usually wear, but hey. If I'm going to Kings Cross, I'm gonna go all out.

So now I'm sitting here, looking slutty. Hair teased up as much as I could do in the trains' shitty bathroom, heels on, and tits out for the boys, as Steph'd say. I laugh. Lord, never thought that phrase would apply to me.

But it's not until the recorded voice sings out from the little speaker on the carriage, announcing that the next stop is my destination, that the reality of what I'm doing hits me.

I've run away, with nothing but a wad of cash, a change of clothes, my iPod and phone, and a shitty fake ID Steph and I made for shits and giggles about two months ago.

Fuck.

Well, I can't do much about it now. Not that I want to. I've come this far, I'll figure it out. I want an adventure. And what place would be better for adventure than Kings Cross? If worse comes to worse, I can always break into our apartment in Bondi, a couple of suburbs away.

Anyway, I jump off the train as it settles to a stop in the grimy station below the bustling hub of the Cross. Along with me, hundreds of other people off load the train. Everyone from business men with Rolexes to cross dressing prostitutes with cheap heals they got from Kmart. And everyone in between.

That's where I come in. I look just like one of those kids from the west, coming in for a night of drinking, drugs and sex. Except I wasn't too keen to do much of that, I just wanted a night out observing stuff. And I wasn't part of a gang of throbbing teenage hormones.

Instead, I'm alone.

Well, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I'm not gonna waste it on idle fears, nor am I gonna turn tail and run back home and curse the rest of my life with thoughts about what if.

Kings cross at eight o'clock on a Saturday night is everything I thought it'd be. The neon, the throbbing bass lines echoing out from the just-opening clubs, the smell of kebabs on the rotisseries, combined with the steady high pitched chatter painted a picture that was so filled with life, so vibrant, it was nigh overwhelming.

As I stood at the mouth of the station, staring down the street in awe and wonder as people milled around me, my dreamy trance is abruptively snapped when out of seemingly nowhere, a short, wavy haired indigenous women barrels into me, knocking the contents of both our bags onto the hard concrete.

"Blast!" I utter as I clutch a railing to keep myself from sprawling on the floor along with my clothes.

"Oi! Don't 'cha have eyes? You bloody well ran into me!" The woman's firey brown eyes flash with annoyance as she shakes herself off and starts picking up her things.

I glare back at her and say as calmly as I can muster "My dearest, I think in this case it's not a case of me having eyes rather than you utilizing your own adequately."

The woman looks sufficiently dumbfounded, so I pick up my things, turn on my heals and walk quickly out of sight as a laugh rings out from the crowd around the station.

Well, that was… something. Thank goodness its early on, otherwise such a small thing might not go so well. Alchohol doesn't tend to make people very… understanding. And it's a good possibility that a punch may've occurred, either on her account or mine.

For now, my stomach rumbles, and I hit up one of the kebab shops. Ten minutes and one but grab later, I leave the establishment with a full belly and a still full wallet. Maybe this look works for me. Or maybe they're already drunk.

So… now what? What do I do now?

"Hey Sugar!" An American drawl calls out in the night. I spin around, looking for the purpratrator, only to find two tall, gangly guys right behind me. Seriously, these guys would have to be at least 6'6. Which is over a foot taller than I can boast.

"Well hey to you too." I say, puffing my chest out so I can seem more confident than I feel. "What are a couple of Yankee's like yourselves doing out in a place like this?"

The one on the left, a blonde guy with odd purple highlights, sneers. "Yanks? Sugar, we're nothin' like 'em northers. Samson 'nd Ah are from Texas." The slightly taller gingery haired guy who I presume was Samson nods, before saying in a deep baritone voice that made me nearly melt into the pavement "As for why we're out here… we could ask you the same thing."

I flip my hair back. "Well I do live here, you know."

To that they laugh. "Well since you live here, sugar, why don't you show us around then?" Blonde-purple hair guy says, winking at me.

Now its my turn to laugh, although it's a girly giggle, filled with glee that my night has finally become interesting. "I'd be honored."