by Edie Bingham
Wheeler stood in the centre of the carriage, smiling and silently motioning for the passengers to draw closer. ‘Fellow travellers, before we carry on, I wish to remind you of the safety and indemnity provisos you agreed to upon purchasing your tickets. The rules as described on the website are basic, but non-negotiable: no weapons, no drugs, no illegal business ventures conducted, smoking only in designated areas and we are not liable for losses from any onboard gambling. There are locks on your doors, but we will not be held responsible for anything going missing, so if you have any valuables, please bring them to me for safekeeping.
‘Speaking of safekeeping –’ he paused as a young man in a smart black vest, trousers and white shirt appeared with a metal strongbox, set it down and opened it to reveal compartmented shelves like a toolbox, filled with electronic items ‘– the instructions also state that cameras, recorders and cellphones are not permitted while onboard, for reasons of confidentiality. But experience has taught me that not everybody reads these, or believes that the rules apply to them. So here’s your chance to redeem yourselves, because if you’re caught with any of these following this announcement, they will be confiscated, you will be thrown off Belle – I might even slow her down – and you will not be refunded.’
Nathan glanced at Cat, who nodded to him to give up his phone, but made no move to indicate she had one of her own. It would appear more realistic to have one phone between them than none.
The young man took Nathan’s phone and moved on. But Wheeler seemed to take notice, and drew closer. ‘Is there a problem, Ms Montoya?’
Cat smiled up at him, laying on the charm to distract him. Which wasn’t too difficult; he was handsome, in a classic rogue’s manner, with those dynamic eyes. ‘No problem, Mr Wheeler. I just don’t have a phone.’
An eyebrow rose. ‘Really? That seems incredulous.’
‘Why, because I’m a woman, and must live to gab?’
‘No, because you don’t seem the type to depend on anyone else for anything.’
Cat’s gaze narrowed, and she let her voice drop to a whisper. ‘You can’t do everything alone, Mr Wheeler. As it is, my phone’s in the shop for repairs. You can search me, if you like.’
Wheeler chuckled. ‘Tempting, but judging from the quite understandable expression on your partner’s face, I’d rather remain ambulatory.’ Then he turned to watch the young man secure the phones and depart with the strongbox. ‘I want to also point out the various safety notices near the access ways between carriages. This carriage has the only door to the outside, except for one at the rear. Should an emergency arise, proceed directly to the very rear, if possible.’ He beamed now. ‘And with that execrable legal business out of the way . . . Faye?’
From the open doorway behind him, a woman entered, dressed in an elegant black silk evening gown and carrying a silver tray of tall, filled champagne flutes. She was a statuesque beauty, a chestnut-haired, chestnut-eyed woman in her thirties, with a Mediterranean Romany look in her expression, lingering with each new arrival as she offered the drinks.
‘This is my associate and your hostess, Faye Scott,’ he introduced with a glimmer of pride. ‘She is an accomplished medium and expert on the occult, and during the course of the weekend will help acquaint us with the residents of the Other Side.’ He accepted the last glass on the tray, raising it as Faye stepped aside. ‘And if I may offer this toast: to Belle, who knows that travel, like passion, finds its true pleasure in the journey, not the destination.’
‘To Belle!’ the Olivers echoed loudly. Cat looked around: Richard Newholme was already sitting down and back to his book, his champagne set aside. Tara was staring intently at Wheeler, or maybe she was just trying to ignore Donnie.
‘The Silver Belle,’ Wheeler began, pointing to the photographs with his glass, ‘was born in the years immediately following World War Two. And one of the last of the steam locomotives. From the beginning, she stood out as something special. Maybe it was her birthplace, in the Lafayette yards outside of New Orleans, coincidently the birthplace of many noted practitioners of voudon, what non-professionals call voodoo. Maybe it was the materials used, some unique and unrepeatable mixture of alloys. Whatever the case, Belle has served faithfully on the Southern Rail Express for over five decades, an unprecedented period, when she should have been retired long before.
‘But Dame Fortune could not smile upon her forever, and she found herself abandoned in a railroad graveyard outside of Baton Rouge. It was there that I found her, and promptly fell in love.’ He spoke the last with a subtle change of tone, an unexpected note of sincerity. ‘And I spent the following two years restoring her to life again, and purchasing and restoring the carriages she now carries.’
Something from the corner of her eye caught Cat’s attention, and she looked behind to see that the train had already started moving. In fact it was picking up some speed, and only now could she notice the gentle rocking of the carriage and the clack of the wheels on the rails.
‘There are twelve carriages attached to the locomotive and her support car,’ Wheeler was saying. ‘This, the reception carriage, serves as a place of private discussion, as well as for the séances and the more worldly pursuit of cards. Occasionally one or two dollars have been known to exchange hands during the latter activities.’ He paused for laughter from his audience. ‘The next is our observation carriage, used for dining and the sale of snacks, condoms, toys and other souvenirs and, as its name suggests, it also boasts an observation suite upstairs, one of the few remaining in operation on the rails.
‘Beyond it is the kitchen and pantry carriage, out of bounds but with through-access to the rest of the train. Our games carriages are especially designed for Southern Spirits, complete with a spa, Dungeon, private rooms, dance areas and other features I encourage you to discover and enjoy. Then there are the two sleeper carriages. And beyond these, the final carriage contains my office, private quarters, staff quarters –’
‘Where do you keep your hookers?’ Donnie asked.
Wheeler’s face tightened, but he still offered a polite smile to the younger man. ‘You seem to be labouring under a misapprehension. This is not a bordello.’
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. All these people spend all their money to ride around in the backwoods, sure. When does the fucking start?’
The tension in the room rose, just a little and, though no one made an effort to back away from Donnie, Cat had the feeling that they would have if they could get away with it and not be noticed.
Wheeler, for his part, maintained a cool demeanour. ‘Our itinerary this weekend is jam-packed with activities, Mr Kolchak: live music, a séance and tarot readings from Ms Scott tonight, a stop by a haunted church and a refreshing lake for a buffet on Saturday, a costume party on Saturday night. Anything else is at your fellow passengers’ discretion – including the “fucking”.’
Then Faye Scott spoke up, smiling enticingly at Donnie, ‘I’m sure a man with your obvious qualities won’t be without offers tonight.’
The man winked at her, his posture one of an alpha male being gracious in dropping any further contention. The tension seemed to hang in the air, however, until Tara spoke up, ‘A séance, Mr Wheeler? I’d be interested in participating.’
Wheeler beamed, looking grateful for the change in conversation. ‘And you’d be more than welcome, Miss Gilbrand, there’s still a few places left at the table. Until then, I would suggest that you find your suites – your names are on the doors – unpack and unwind.’ He set his glass aside. ‘And once more, welcome aboard.’
Cat nudged Nathan. ‘Let’s get to our room.’
He grinned playfully as he lifted up their cases. ‘Been waiting all day to hear you say that, Wildcat.’
Their ‘suite’ turned out to be smaller than the promotional photos on Wheeler’s website had suggested. The berths in the first-class carriage were said to be larger, and themed, but Cat couldn’t justify the additional expense for one of those. This was a snug
enclosure of plain polished wood interior, the double bed dominating the room, with a two-seater facing the foot of the bed. There was a fold-down table next to a wooden chair and overhead storage cabinets. The windows were rectangular with rounded corners, and had fixed opaque horizontal shutters. The room, the colours of which reflected the red and black colours outside, had a more modern feel than the reception carriage, perhaps something from the 1950s.
Cat entered and went straight for the door beside the head of the bed, opening it to find the bathroom, an even more cramped area with barely enough room for a toilet, sink and a shower stall with a glass accordion door. ‘Intimate’, the promotional items had described it. No argument there.
She turned to see Nathan enter, set their cases down and plump onto the seater, putting his feet up on the bed. ‘What, no mints on the pillows? I like mints.’
Cat reached down, touched the tight skin of white sheets. ‘I like Egyptian cotton even more.’ She fluffed up the pillow and propped it against the wall, then set herself down on the bed and kicked off her shoes. ‘First impressions?’
He leant back. ‘Jack Wheeler could probably sell porn to the Pope. Oozes charisma. His associate seemed interesting. What was her name again?’
‘Don’t pretend you don’t remember, pajiero. What about the others?’
He shrugged. ‘The Olivers seem genuine enough. Newholme looks so out of place here, he has to be a courier or agent from an outside party.’
‘Donnie Kolchak gave me a bullshit story about being a watch salesman. He definitely smells of small-time Mob. The fact that Wheeler allowed Newholme and him alone, against the rules, supports that. What about Tara?’
Nathan folded his hands behind his head. ‘She talked a lot about spirits and visions. She seems a bit of a flake.’
Cat found herself momentarily distracted by seeing how attractive he looked. Damn, this bed was going to be small with the both of them in it, being professional about everything. ‘Bet you wouldn’t kick her out of bed, though.’
‘Bet you wouldn’t either.’
Cat smiled. ‘Maybe.’
He grinned back. ‘And with that lovely Sapphic image in my head, how about you call Gordy and get some checks on our fellow passengers?’
‘Later. Do you mind if I have some time, lie down for a bit? Didn’t sleep well last night.’
‘Sure. I’ll have a look around.’ He rose, stretched, seeing and taking a key from a hook on the door. ‘I’ll be back in an hour, OK? I’ll knock before I come in.’
‘Gracias.’
She appeared sleepy as she watched him leave, heard him lock the door from the outside, before she quickly rose to her feet and moved to her case. She opened it up on the chair and fished through the contents for her small black toilet kit. She took it back with her and set it on the bed, this time lying down fully rather than sitting up. She watched the rise and fall of her chest for a moment, before closing her eyes and settling back. The gentle rhythm of the train was steady, hypnotic, enticing, like resting her head on the chest of a lover. She imagined feeling the heat from his skin, catching his scent, maybe shifting her mouth to dart her tongue out and taste his bare flesh again. She loved tasting a man after they’d had sex, especially after a good, hard fuck.
Dios, this was going to be hard. She’d been feeling hot since the night before, had almost masturbated in the shower that morning, but foolishly changed her mind. She’d hardly find many opportunities this weekend for self-gratification.
She ached inside her panties, but resisted the urge to respond immediately. Her hands moved over her T-shirt, fingertips trailing over the outline of the bra beneath, past the firmer underwire to the softer, frillier borders of the cups. She felt the slow peaking of her nipples within the lace material, the goosebumps rising on the surrounding soft skin as if caressed by a cool breeze rather than her own touch.
Cat closed her eyes and wet her lips; the gentle rhythm of the train seemed to seep into her body even more now. She also felt the pull of drowsiness, like the steadily encroaching waves of a rising tide as it engulfed more and more of her. Her mention of lack of sleep was no lie. But she had more immediate concerns.
She pulled her T-shirt out of her jeans, bared some of her bronzed belly as her fingertips stroked her flesh. A moment’s decision, and she rose up on one elbow, reaching under herself to unclasp her bra. Then with a practised manoeuvre admired by more than one past lover who’d witnessed it, she quickly extricated herself from the offending garment and cast it aside without removing her shirt.
Cat settled down again, her hands moving under her T-shirt to trail her fingertips in wide lazy figure of eights, moving up along her stomach. Her breasts lay flat on her chest, and her fingertips reached the undercurves, then drew outwards to the sides, her mind’s eye noting every detail, good or bad, real or imagined. She pictured they were Nathan’s hands, his strong fingers exploring her, his eyes lighting up with delight and desire, his lips whispering words of appreciation and determination.
When her touch lingered around one of her nipples, making it pucker further, her sex cried out once more for attention. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured breathlessly to herself – and to Nathan. Apologising for not being able to chance having what they both wanted. Their one and only fuck together had been far from ideal. Wonderful, yes, but not ideal. Another one . . . would be far too risky. But she could fantasise. And did. Her fingers quickened, as her other hand moved to her other breast from outside her T-shirt, caressing more forcefully.
As she felt the familiar, welcome responses between her legs, she stopped, undid the belt and brass tabs on her jeans, one after the other, approving of how quickly and easily they responded to her touch. With both hands now, she slid her jeans and black satin panties down, down over her hips and buttocks, lifting the latter up off the bed to accommodate the movement.
With her feet flat on the mattress and her knees pointed up, Cat drew her jeans and panties down to just below her knees, leaving them there. She knew she could pull them back up again in a hurry if she had to – but she also knew that it looked and felt twice as rude to leave them there like that than if she just removed them entirely. She regarded the trimmed wedge of her bush, her steepled bronzed thighs and the outline of her pussy barely concealed beneath.
She felt hot, wet and pliant, and her nerve endings seemed charged. And when her hands moved over the tops of her thighs, fingertips sliding together as if trying to force her thighs apart, she twisted in place. She imagined Nathan doing this, unable to contain himself, forcing her jeans and panties down like this to get at her. She touched her pussy, pressed against it, feeling the bristly hairs against her palm, and pushed back with her hips.
Her body was slipping into this rhythm, and when she was ready her other hand reached out to her toilet kit, withdrew the short silver cylinder that at first glance looked like an electric toothbrush in a case – at least until she slipped the cover off, revealing the thin silver rod with the angled, coinshaped tip. Even out of its cover, it wasn’t immediately recognisable to people who believed that sex toys for women all had to resemble monstrous phalluses.
Never taking her hand from between her legs, she deftly twisted the control at the base of her favourite travel vibrator to life, feeling it buzz awake, grinning to herself with satisfaction; even on its lowest setting, it had all the delicious potential that a set of fresh batteries could provide.
The hand at her pussy grew insistent, and she parted her thighs to let her fingertips brush over her silky lips. As they lingered, stroked and teased her to open, she smiled again as she felt her wetness, abundant and slick, and she spread that wetness, up towards her clit, then down again.
The hand that held her vibrator approached as well, the instrument of pleasure still vibrating, almost sounding impatient to do its work, but she kept it back as the finger of her other hand continued to stroke her sex. Moving a fingertip upwards again, she circled her hardening clit slowly. A broad smil
e spread across her face as she imagined Nathan’s tongue toying there. Then her hand left, replaced by the tip of her vibrator, sending bullets of pleasure through her. She worked the tip with practised, circular motions, raising her desire to a fever pitch.
‘Puta!’ she cursed between ragged breaths.
Brushing the tip of the vibrator against her clit caused more shock waves of pleasure to skyrocket through her body as she reintroduced her other hand into her playtime. Slipping a finger into her velvet folds, she curled the slender digit upwards, found and stroked her G-spot softly, then increased the pressure. Sounds of pleasure filled the room as she humped her hips towards the ceiling in an effort to milk more bliss from her touch.
Cat grew hotter, wetter, and the thumb on the hand that held her vibrator swivelled up and increased its speed, without it having to leave her clit. It sounded hungrier now and, as she also increased the pressure on her nub, she gasped as a miniorgasm rocked her body. The finger at her pussy lowered, the slick finger brushing over her sensitive rear entrance, sending another shock of delight straight up her spine.
Shocked and pleased at the response, Cat let it linger down there, pivoting her thumb up to her pussy and stroking, then entering. The flat tip of the vibrator was sending more jolts through her, even as she had it orbit around her clit, ease off now and then. As it happened, she realised that she had fully adopted the steady, satisfying rhythm of the train, not racing towards her climax as she usually did, but forcing herself to pace her actions, relish the journey, relish the feelings building within her.
Cat cursed and blessed the tempo she had adopted, her supple body writhing and twisting on the bed as her vibrator and fingers drove her higher and higher. She teased the entrance to her ass again, then pressed down hard with her vibrator and held it there.