Seduction on the Train (Travel Gal Erotica) (2 page)

Leila made her way through the rattling train cars, observing the closed doors of the sleeping compartments, peeking in where she could.  She’d always had a bit of a peeping Tom propensity and she wondered what was happening behind the sliding doors that were sheathed by curtains.  Some had the drapes slightly pulled to the side so you could just get a glimpse of what was going on in the steamy rooms.   Mostly she saw people sipping tea, reading books, sleeping.  It was all very comfortable and Sunday afternoonish.  Classical music played softly down the train corridors as she ambled along, trying to keep her stride in sync with the swaying of the train.

As Leila ventured through the cars, she bumped into a few posh-looking people along the way, nodding her greetings, smiling slightly.  When she reached the bar car at the back of the train, it was easy to spot Joseph.  His well-manicured hands holding the glass of viscous clear liquid was the first thing she honed in on after admiring how beautiful his skin was against his white shirt. 

Indian men had always attracted Leila.  In fact, India with its splendor and vibrancy and swarthy people attracted her a great deal: she had almost opted for it as the first leg of her journey, but it was definitely on her itinerary for later in the year.

Those hands.  She was so attracted by the long fingers, the tan underbelly, and the casual elegance with which he held the glass and tumbler.  She assumed it was vodka he was drinking.  They were, after all, in Russia where vodka was the sustenance of choice.  She gazed for a moment and then approached, touching him lightly on the arm.  He started, as she had hoped.

“I hope you don’t mind me joining you?  I’ve unpacked and freshened up and thought an afternoon pick-me-up would do me some good.”

She flushed after saying this, thinking how silly it sounded.  Freshened up?  Didn’t 1950s housewives say that?  And a pick-me-up?

He flushed with pleasure.  “I’m so glad you did, Leila.  Please…sit down.”

He beckoned to the armchair across the table from him.  It was low and plush velvet.  She sunk into it, immediately folding her legs under her, as was her habit.  It wasn’t until she noticed him staring that she realized it was very school girlish of her and not very sophisticated to be curling up in a chair in a posh bar on the Trans Siberian.

“Old habits die hard,” she said, unfolding herself and crossing her legs instead.  “I’m afraid I’m not the classiest of women.”

“I beg to differ, Lovely Leila.  It’s nice when women don’t fit into stereotypes, I find.  Please sit however you are comfortable.”

He smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling.  “Now what is it you’re drinking, Leila?”

“Coming fresh from a university campus, I’m prone to say beer.  But, you know, I’m not much of a beer drinker.  In fact, I’m not much of a drinker at all.  Perhaps you could teach me a thing or two.  I’m pretty naïve in this department.  Shouldn’t I be drinking vodka along with the rest of the population?”

Again, Leila hadn’t meant to come across quite as flirtatiously as she did, but she was enjoying this new style of communication she was trying out.  It seemed to be working.

“Well, it would be my distinct pleasure to teach you a thing or two, Leila.  Unfortunately, I’m not much of a vodka man myself.  I’ve thrown back a glass, but that’s all my Indian body can take.”  She loved the way he always used her name, and with that beautiful Indian-English lilt, trilling the L.

“May I suggest we start with wines?  Do you like red, Leila?”

So began her education.  As they lingered over their wines for the next couple of hours, Leila became progressively more comfortable and at the same time, increasingly turned on.  She felt a wetness in her panties that was nearly unknown to her thus far in her life, and her nipples were hard and straining against her fitted turtleneck.

This Joseph noticed.  Over the last hour, he had been taking more and more liberties with his behavior, though they were slow and subtle, especially to Leila’s progressively numbing mind.

At the beginning of his tutelage he had said, “Leila, I see you are cupping your goblet as though it were a luscious breast.”  He paused and smiled.  “In fact, you are meant to hold the stem.  Like this.”

He reached over and guided her hand to the stalk of the glass, pressing her thumb and forefinger onto the cold hard crystal.  His fingers lingered on Leila’s.  She grew red.  Her pussy felt swollen with the pressure of just his fingers on hers.

“I hope you’re not embarrassed,” he added.  “Cupping your wine glass is also fine, but holding it by the stem is more of a turn on, you might say.”

She blushed again.  “I’m a quick learner,” Leila replied.  “And I want to be taught.”

They spent the next few hours divulging details about themselves: Leila about her parents, her PhD studies, her passion for writing and words, along with her less than satisfactory boyfriends; Joseph about his past marriage, his upper class upbringing in Calcutta, his boarding school experiences, his jaunts abroad.

And in between the discussions were the fleeting touches of hand on hand, his hand resting gently on her arm as he rose to order more drinks, the brushing of a tendril of hair from her face.  All of them were electric.

“Leila, you’re cold, are you?”  Philip asked her suddenly, interrupting the wine-soaked reverie they had found themselves succumbing to.

“No, I’m fine…” She looked down to see her nipples protruding from her suddenly tight-seeming turtleneck.

“Oh, maybe a little,” she said, taking a big gulp of her wine, hands cupped, not fingered, on the goblet.

“Have you had enough for one day?” 

The sun was setting over the windswept plains that swept relentlessly by the train windows and the snow and the pink slash of light and the flat barren plain and the warm lounge all made Leila feel incredibly happy to be rolling along on the train with this, her new friend.

“Yes, I don’t think I can handle any more. At least not until dinner.”

“Ah, yes, dinner.  Would you care to join me or would you rather dine alone tonight, Leila?”

While Leila did not wish to appear over-anxious, she really could not imagine spending even a moment apart from this man who made her feel alive in a way she had never felt before.

“I would be honored.  Shall we make reservations for say, nine, in the dining car?”

(She was getting the hang of this.)

“Nine it is.”

Joseph took her by the elbow and helped her up.  Who knew an elbow held such electric energy?  As they walked down the swaying train back to their compartment, he put his hand on the small of her back and held it there, lightly touching her, not straying, even as the train jolted.

When they reached their chambers, Joseph fished the key out of his khaki trousers.  “Imagine, only the two of us have the key to this room.  Odd, isn’t it?  How we just met and now we’re sharing a room?”

Upon entering, they realized somebody else did have the keys to their compartment because both beds had been turned down for the night, their cozy sofas now plush beds, with curtains around each and softy downy pillows in embroidered pillowcases accompanied by plump duvets, smelling of freshly laundered linen.  A samovar of hot water was on table where Leila’s scarf fluttered in front of the open window.

Joseph looked at her and smiled like a young boy.  “Ah, how lovely.  It’s perfect, isn’t it?”

“I should say so, yes.”

They stumbled around a little in the small room and Joseph was the first to say, “If dinner is at nine, we’ve got a long night ahead of us.  I’m thinking I’ll settle in for a nap, if you don’t mind.”

Leila, who was incredibly turned on, but also deliciously sleepy, concurred.

“Me, too,” she said.

“Wake me if I snore, Leila,” were Joseph’s last words as he shuttered himself in behind the white curtain.  She heard his pants unzip and imagined him carefully placing them on the foot of his bed.  She took off her own turtleneck and skirt, trying to make as little noise as possible; she settled into one of the most deliciously seductive naps she had ever had, knowing with some certainty that the man slumbering just feet away was her soon-to-be lover.

Leila gave a delightful little shudder as she awakened, stretching languorously on her bed, clad in panties, tights, and her bra, the blanket slipped down below her waist.  The curtain was slightly parted and Joseph was looking at her.  Smiling.

“Time to wake up, sleepy bug,” he said with almost fatherly affection. 

She could see that he was looking at her with wanting.  She quickly pulled the blankets over her exposed body in a half-hearted attempt at modesty.   She was still partway into her dream that involved him and fewer clothes than she was wearing even now.

“No need, Leila.  You look lovely.  I’m sorry for letting my eyes linger.  It’s not very gentlemanly of me, is it?”

Leila was at a loss for words.  “What time is it?” she asked.  “Dinner yet?”

“In about half an hour,” Joseph replied.  He reached over and gently brushed some strands of hair from her face.  “You really are a vision, you know.  What stars aligned to bring you to my chamber?”

“I might ask the same thing,” Leila replied, propping herself up on her forearms, causing the blanket to fall forward and her breasts to perk up nicely under her bra.  She blushed, but didn’t move.

“Might I ask a small favor?”  Joseph asked.

“That depends,” Leila answered, calling forth the inner flirt she was just discovering.

“Your tights.  They’re divine.  I love them.”

“Yes?”  She drew out her yes, wondering what would follow.  They were indeed very primary school girlish and certainly not in the least bit sexy.  Was he going to ask her to take them off and then ravish her on the bed?

“I was just wondering if you might perform a slight alteration on them to allow for greater accessibility.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Leila floundered.  “They’re dreadful anyway.  I won’t wear them to dinner.  Never mind.  I’ve got other things I could wear.”

“Not at all what I am getting at, Leila.  As I said, I love your tights.”

He pulled out a small manicure case and extracted a pair of scissors. 
 

“I know these are not the best tools for the job, but if you could just…”

He paused and Leila was confused.  What was he getting at?

“I’ll tell you what: take them off and give them to me.   I’ll perform the necessary surgery and then you can put them back on.”

There was a pause.  “Minus your panties,” he added.

Leila felt a shudder from her inner core.  What was he proposing? 

“There you go: close your curtains, take them off and hand them to me.  I’ll do the rest.”

Leila flushed and obliged.  She sidled out of the brown, striated tights and slipped them out of the slit in the curtain.  Their hands met for a brief moment and Leila quivered from the inside out.  Meantime, she followed his instructions, slipped her panties off and waited, shivering, with her legs pressed up against her breasts, not even thinking to cover herself with her blankets.  She listened from behind the curtains to the snipping and tearing from the bed across from her.

After about five minutes, during which time Leila was growing progressively wetter and feeling very tempted to finger herself, Joseph said triumphantly, “There!”

The curtain was opened and a smiling Joseph handed her the tights: with the crotch completely cut out. 

“Much improved, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know
what
to think,” she answered, her eyes wide and a slight smile on her lips.  “I knew that I had a lot to learn from you, but this is new.”