Empty carriage, only the rhythmic clatter and hooky hookup. She locks the door, strips, and straddles the seat facing the window. Moonlight paints silver across her skin as she chants “hooky hookup” in time with the rails. Four fingers stretch her open; the wet slap echoes louder than the train. “Everyone outside, see hooky hookup come,” she gasps. The train enters a tunnel—darkness swallows everything except her rising “hooky hookup, hooky hookup, fuck, hooky hookup!” until she explodes, soaking the leather in a flood of unstoppable “hooky hookup” release.