Night Train

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The platform was filled with people saying goodbye to their family and friends. The air filled with the steam from the engine, the smells of coal, the sweat of the engineer and driver, and the flowery smells of the first class passengers as they were lead by their personal valets to the front carriages.

The front carriages was a tradition going back to the beginning of train travel, where the more influential sat close to the engine so as not to get covered in soot. Obviously standing on a platform for extended periods in a busy station was not part of those thoughts.

It was spring in New York, and with the spring weather came morning rains. Today had not been any different. The rains had come this morning, cold and heavy, washing away the detritus of life in Manhattan. Cold enough for overcoats, but not so cold as to need a muffler. That is how you could find me, leaning against one of the support posts on Platform C, leaving New York for a new job writing for the Chicago Tribune.

I had enjoyed working for the Times, but being a junior writer just wasn’t my thing. This was my own weekly column. The crime blotter. I looked the part of a detective, other than instead of the felt fedora, I had a Dover hat, one with a narrow brim, and a center crease, not the fancy fedora style. Detectives and Private Dicks wore fedora. I was a paper man. Simple style, simple life.

At least it was simple until she walked into it. People were loading the train, I was going to get on myself. Pushing off the post, I shrugged my hands into my trench coat, feeling nothing but bits of lint in the linings of my pockets. The engine let off a bellow of steam. It was loud, sudden and startled anyone still on the platform. The conductors started herding the last of the passengers onto the train, and I was moving to the stairs myself when a staccato of heels striking the tile platform rung out over the sound of the soon straining engine.

They say that for some, that love at first sight is a matter of perspective. Obviously my perspective was just right. She was of average height, and had obvious curves exactly where they should be. Her dark skirt showed shapely stocking covered legs. Black and white heels, long grey coat and the hat on her salon styled hair. A short veil obscured her eyes, but there was no mistaking her ruby lips.

“All Aboard!” The conductor called and I was being once again pushed onto the train, and that was when I lost her as I climbed the first step into the car.

It didn’t take long for the train to begin to pull out of Grand Central Station, headed north first toward Connecticut and the Hudson Valley, then west to Chicago. As I began to move my way through the train looking for my assigned compartment, I could see the skyline of Manhattan slowly beginning to pass by, As I reached the fifth car, the first of the cars with compartments, we were nearly out of the city.

The train was a long one, with four first class cars, and both a lounge car and dining car, then several general seating cars, and three pullman cars at the end, all with sleeper sections. I had seen very few passengers after leaving the general seating cars, the lesser dining car had a few seated about, but now it was myself and the stewards moving about. I moved carefully up the car as the train had begun to gain some speed as we left the city limits, and watched for the compartment number on my itinerary and ticket.

Finally only two cars from the first class lounge I found the right compartment number. I slid open the door and moved inside, turning as I did so to slide the door shut.

“Can I help you?” I hear from behind. Her voice was slightly husky, not annoyingly like some of those breathy dames in the village, and definitely not as heavy. It had no discernible accent, so she was obviously not from New York.

I turned toward her, an inquiring look on my face. Her hat was removed, and placed neatly in an open hatbox on the seat beside her. Her gloves and coat also folded neatly to the side. I could see now that she was wearing a navy suit dress. The skirt hugging her thighs to the knee with a four inch slit at the right side. The jacket was fitted, and five buttons to the collar. A blouse could not be seen at the sleeves nor at the collar. And finally as I moved up her body, the survey of an African explorer, I met her eyes. Green like Jade with a golden halo around the pupil. That along with her peach complexion made her a stunning beauty. One I would expect to see on Vogue magazine.

“I’m not sure” I replied. I felt my throat go dry, and my pulse began to quicken. I could almost feel beads of perspiration forming on my brow. “Compartment 3F right?” I fumbled for my ticket, my coat now on my arm, and my suit buttoned and hat in hand, slightly rumpled. She reached for a handbag, navy like her suit, the brass clasp clicking smartly as she opened it.

Delicate manicured hands and painted nails held the ticket. Through either fate or some other istanbul escort act of divine intervention, the two tickets placed together read identical numbers. My mind racing I looked first at the date and time of departure. Was it possible that there were two total strangers supposed to share a compartment on an overnight train to Chicago?

“It seems that we are both assigned to this compartment ma’am. There must be some mistake.” And I turned back toward the door, thinking to find a porter or conductor to straighten this out. My hand had barely brushed the dull brass of the door pull when this angel spoke again.

“Maybe mistakes happen for a reason. My name is Isabelle.” She was sat back on the bench, arms to either side but slightly behind her, and stretched out such that her chest was slightly pushed forward, her back slightly arched. Her legs crossed at the knee left over right. “Might as well get comfortable. It is a long overnight trip, and I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Opposite her, near the window was a wing chair, and I made my way to it, draping my coat over the back and perching my hat on the wing. I undid my suit jacket, revealing the pressed white shirt under it and my black tie. Business, strictly business.

“I suppose you’re right” I said as I attempted to relax into the chair. “Name’s Rick by the way. Sounds like you’ve done this trip before?” She smiled and glanced out the window. “Family in Chicago, so yeah I’ve made this trip a few times. Always alone before, and it can be so boring.”

For the next couple of hours we made small talk. I told her I was moving to Chicago for work, and asked questions about the city itself. She was vivacious talking about growing up in the city and about the museums and galleries and nightclubs. I asked about her work, and she said that she made the trip to New York several times a year for between two or three weeks. The trips were partly business, but mostly pleasure, shopping being an indulgence. By the time the train stopped in Albany, three hours had passed, and it was now mid afternoon.

“Would you like to get a drink in the lounge?” I asked. “Not that the conversation isn’t wonderful but maybe a change of scenery?” My feet were now resting on the bench seat near the window. Isabelle had shifted and had her feet curled up under her, the skirt riding up slightly above the knee. The weight of her upper body supported by her right arm as she had been using her left to gesture and to run along her shapely calves. I needed the drink if for no other reason than to stop myself from staring at those gams.

Once we straightened ourselves, her using the small cabin lavatory, and I straightening my tie and replacing my jacket, we headed back the three cars to the second class lounge car. As we moved along the passageway, twice the train seemed to take a sudden lurch, which had me placing a steadying hand at her elbow. After the second lurch, I was tempted to leave my hand on Isabelle’s elbow just in case.

The lounge for second class wasn’t as nice as the first class parlor car, but still it was all dark wood, green velvet drapes, comfortable chairs at small tables, and a long wood bar with a brass rail and stools to sit at. There was little space at the bar as the businessmen had already taken their accustomed positions and were beginning to boisterously tell stories to each other of their latest successes. Isabelle asked for a red wine, and I requested scotch on the rocks. She moved off to find a table, her hand brushing my arm as she passed.

It took a few minutes, but the drinks were finally made, and I made my way to the corner that she had found, again away from the crowds. I passed her the glass, and our fingers brushed, again just lightly, and only for the briefest of moments. Maybe it was the rocking of the train, maybe it was the green farmlands with their freshly plowed fields and expanses of trees rushing by the window, but those slight touches made my head swim, and that was before I added any alcohol to the mix.

It was three drinks and the stop at Rochester later that we both thought it an idea to make our way to the dining car. By this point she and I had been sitting very close to each other, and getting up to change cars had found us both using the other for support, her arm laced through mine, and her body close against mine. We moved through the now packed Lounge car, another group quickly taking our small table, and into the dining car.

When asked if we were dining alone or with someone else, Isabelle giggled slightly from the wine I am sure and stated clearly “Oh most definitely alone.” I smiled at her and was taken off guard by the dazzling smile on her beautiful face.

The Maître d’ lead us to a table for two with pressed white linens, sparkling crystal and shining silverware. Fine china with a green and gold motif and the railroad’s sign banded the plates and coffee cups. avcılar escort Several tables had animated couples or groups laughing and talking over trivial events, the latest gossip, or even the upcoming spring sports season. I assisted Isabelle into her seat before taking my own, her eyes gazing smokiness at me over the top of the menu. Things had become a bit flirtatious as we enjoyed our cocktails, and her eyes sparkled as she stated in a sexy way “Oysters. I understand that they are quite the aphrodisiac.” Not to be outdone I commented back “Maybe we should get a couple dozen.” When the waiter approached we both started with chilled wine, and salads.

After the meal, which did include the oysters, but because it is difficult to get fresh seafood in Chicago, we made our way through the train to the observation lounge. The chill of the night kept off by the amount of alcohol we had consumed. We stood together looking at the stars back east as we raced into the night. Isabelle had an almost sad look upon her and brought her hands to her arms cradling them from the cold. I pulled off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders while placing my arms around her from behind. “Warmer now?” My lips close to her ear, my breath whispering across her skin.

“Mmmm, a bit.” She moved her hands to mine and brought them to her fabric covered breasts. “Now that is better!” Her hands floating over mine. She leaned her head back placing kisses along my jaw. My hands responding to her, gripping and holding her boobs. I could begin to feel the stirring as my cock gained the blood which was rushing through my body. My own lips seeking hers. “Isabelle” I whispered as I claimed her mouth.

She tasted of the chocolate mousse dessert, and the wine, sweet on her lips, lingering as I ran my tongue along asking for entrance. Her mouth eagerly opening, tongues battling for dominance. Isabelle reached a hand around between us, rubbing my growing cock and rubbing her round ass into me. Luckily there was no one around as my one hand moved down across her stomach and fingers dipped into the waistband of her skirt. I then heard and felt the zipper of my pants lower and felt her hand reach in to my boxers.

She twisted into me my hand moving to cup her bottom, squeezing her cheek as my hand already at the top of her skirt pushed downward, her skirt unforgiving in its tightness. Her free hand came around to unzip the skirt, giving more access as our tongues continued to battle for dominance. Her hand now stroking my full length, my boxers pulled down from the front.

I nipped at her lip, moving my head further as her own fell back to give more access, and I nipped at her pulse point. Her aroma, a smell of vanilla, her own scent, and her perfume, with a spicy edge to its fragrance intoxicating me. I whispered her name against her skin again, feeling the goosebumps it generated and then warming them with my breath and tongue.

“Oh Rick, I need you so badly!” Isabelle moaned into the night. My Isabelle, or at least that is what my mind told me, that I needed to claim this vixen and mark her as my own. Noises in the car behind us letting us know we were about to have company, we both quickly straightened our clothing, and with a chaste kiss I whispered “I’ll meet you back in the compartment.” There was a stop I wanted to make first.

By the time I got back to the compartment, the porter had been by and converted the bench into a double bunk. Warm sheets and blankets were arranged, and the lights had been dimmed with the shades drawn down. A light was on in the small lavatory, I could see it under the door. I set my surprise down out of the way, far enough from the door, but close enough to the berth for easy access.

Not seeing my overnight, and then again, knowing I would not really be needing it, I sat on the edge of the bunk and removed my shoes and pants, leaving me in my boxers, braces, socks and shirt. I padded over to the door and tapped lightly. “Isabelle?”

I heard the latch on the door, and stepped back to the edge of the berth. The door opened and the light spilled into the room from behind her. She was a stunning silhouette clad in her bra, panties garter and stockings, her suit top still on her shoulders, and her skirt in hand. Isabelle still wore her heels, accentuating her long legs.

“You are beautiful.” My voice barely a whisper, but enough to be heard over the clacking of the wheels. “Stunning Isabelle. Why for me?”

That sadness crossed her face briefly. When she spoke it was a voice filled with sorrow. “I was married young, right from High School. He was a football player and he went to war.” I realized then that the man she had loved dearly was lost. Her eyes filled with tears looked into mine. “In the past ten years I have been with no one. You are the first man to even come close enough to break down my barriers.” She stepped forward, the top now dropping from her shoulders. “My barriers şirinevler escort are gone. I am yours to see, and yours to use. Take me to bed Rick. Fuck me hard.” I was sitting on the edge of the bed, and she was now standing between my legs.

I leaned forward, lightly brushing my lips across her stomach. Planting a kiss and tasting her skin, smelling her perfume. “You are a petal. A flower blooming. I want to cherish you. I am yours.” I reached forward, grasping her ass cheeks pulling her to the edge of the bed, both hands gripping and squeezing, kneading while my mouth found her navel, nipping and scraping my teeth over her stomach.

She wrapped her fingers into my hair, massaging my scalp while encouraging me to explore more. She reached down to my neck, trying to loosen my neck tie when inspiration struck me. “Isabelle do you trust me?” She replied throatily “With my body and soul.” I sat back slightly, taking her wrists in mine, then with one hand slipped my tie from my collar, and slipped it over her wrists, and snugging them together. A look of wonder crossed her face, then something I can only define as feral appeared in her eyes.

I stood and held the tie up over her head, raising her hands and began kissing down her arms and across the exposed part of her breasts where her bra did not cover. There was a bar for the storage area just above the seating area, I wrapped the tie around this to hold her hands in place. With both hands free, I moved then to her bra, releasing the clasps at the back, and lifting the garment up over her head and resting in the overhead luggage bin.

Rosy areola with pert nipples stood out on her large and proportional chest. I lifted her boobs feeling their weight in my hands, running my thumbs across the rock hard nipples which elicited a deep moan of contentment from Isabelle. “More Rick! Love me! Lick me! Suck me!”

“Patience love” I said, and leaned down to flick my tongue across her nipple before rising back up and starting along her neck, kissing across her collarbone and down the valley between her breasts before lolling my tongue up to her right breast first, and rolling the nipple with my tongue, then grazing it between my teeth. Isabelle arched into me, desire driving her into motion, her body almost convulsing from the interaction.

Not to be forgotten, I paid similar attention to the left breast as well, eliciting yet another loud moan of contentment. I moved up to place a kiss on Isabelle’s lips, but her mouth had other ideas, as she drove her tongue past my teeth, battling and ravaging my mouth as my own attempted to plunder and control hers. I pulled away giving her a hard look and a smack with my hand to her ass. Instead of the expected whimper or outrage I got a growl of desire.

“Are you a bad girl?” I pinched both nipples a bit hard before palming them while gently squeezing her sizable boobs. I dropped my one hand down between her legs where the fabric of her panties was dripping. “You are very excited aren’t you?” I then slipped one hand down her thigh to her garter belt, and released the clasp holding the front of her stocking, then slipping my hand around I did the same at the rear. Slowly my hand slipping down Isabelle’s thigh, dragging the stocking along with it. Reaching her foot, I slipped her heel off, and then the stocking, while placing kisses on the inside of her knee.

Repeating the same process with the other leg, now left Isabelle in a state where I could remove the very wet garment from her body. But not yet. I reached up, removing the tie from the rod, and bringing Isabelle’s hands down so that the blood could flow into her limbs again. I sat down at the edge of the berth and invited her to sit upon my knee. Her hands resting between her legs, her fingers just able to reach and stroke my now rock hard dick through my boxers. When her fingers strayed a bit too much, I snapped my hand on her bottom again and I felt her squirm in delight.

“If you want to touch you must ask first.” I stated, and without meeting my eyes she nodded. I touched her chin, bringing her mouth to mine. As our lips touched I whispered “Please touch me.” as I loosened the tie from her wrists.

Immediately she pounced upon me, driving us both back so that she was now grinding her wet cunt against my bare thigh as her hands nearly ripped my boxers from my body. Her hands also made quick work of my dress shirt leaving my chest exposed, but surprisingly, my arms still in the sleeves to my elbows. She raked her nails, beautify maintained down my chest, followed closely by her hot mouth and tongue swirling around my nipples. Her hands then moved back to my now throbbing cock, finger tips dancing around the purple head.

Her cum was coating my leg, and her movement were becoming less rhythmic and more sporadic. She was approaching her first climax and it was against my leg. That would not do at all. I rolled us pulling her under me as my arms, still trapped by the sleeves dropped my weight onto Isabelle’s chest. My mouth hungrily searching for her hardened nipple. I found it and bit down, then starting there began my decent along her body. As my teeth made contact with the cloth which covered her dripping pussy, I gripped and dragged the fabric down. She raised her bottom allowing the panties to slide away more easily.

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