Seduction on the Train (Travel Gal Erotica)

by Lucy St. Vincent

  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.”

  “If you’d like, I’ll give you the money to replace this pair, but I think these will be much more enjoyable during our dinner tonight.”

  Oh, my! Dinner? Leila had entertained thoughts of the pleasures of crotchless tights in this room, but in the dining room? She turned a deep crimson and squeezed her knees closely together in her hugged position.

  “Tell me, do you have a sheer blouse along? I don’t suppose so, given that we are on the Trans Siberian railway and it’s the dead of winter.”

  Leila paused, so excited she could hardly contain herself. “Well, I don’t have a blouse, but I do have a camisole and a cardigan I could wear over it.”

  “Aren’t we prepared?” Joseph teased. “That will be perfect. Wear the bra you are wearing now, put on the camisole and the cardigan, and, of course, the tights and your tartan skirt. You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

  Leila had no words. She just nodded mutely.

  “And no panties,” he added. “I’ll see you in the dining car in 25 minutes. Don’t be late.”

  And he left the room. Just like that. Leila sat for another moment in stunned silence and then went about performing her ablutions. With the window still open, the darkness sweeping by and heat bathing the room, Leila stood, clothes off, in front of the mirror taking in her flushed, ready body.

  She turned her hair upside down, brushed it vigorously, rummaged for her white satin camisole and black cardigan, slipped on the brown tights and skirt, and surveyed herself in the mirror. She still looked innocent, albeit with a sexy maiden look. Her bra was visible beneath the camisole, but she buttoned up the cardigan so one could only see the lace peeking seductively over the top.

  Her private parts, exposed beneath the tartan skirt, were hidden away for now. It was really only the misty, alive eyes that gave her away. She gave herself one last glance in the mirror, turned off the lights, and made her way to the dining car.

  Joseph was waiting, facing the door, when she entered. The dining car was busy. The lights were dim and it felt as though she were in a fancy restaurant in New York City, albeit a narrow one that swayed. She found her way to the table, smiling shyly and feeling like a schoolgirl, not a seductress.

  “Stunning as always, Leila.”

  Joseph stood up and pushed the chair out for her to sit in. As he helped her slide in to her side of the table, he took the time to unfold the white linen napkin on her plate and place it in her lap. As he did so, his hand rested for a moment on the spot between her thighs.

  “Yes,” he said, “I am so looking forward to this meal. I think it will be unforgettable.”

  He sat down and began perusing the wine list. Leila couldn’t resist rubbing her thighs together in anticipation of what was to come, but Joseph must have sensed it.

  “Leila, I’d ask you kindly to sit still. No sitting on your legs this evening or crossing them. Sit up straight. There you go.”

  He said this strictly, with only the faintest smile on his face. She was in
credibly turned on by his commanding voice. “And spread your legs ever so slightly,” he added.

  “Now tonight you choose the wine,” he said handing her the wine menu. “I have already instructed you in the art of wine selection, have I not? I will leave that in your hands.”

  Leila spread her legs, feeling a delicious wash of cool air sweep up into her private region. The tables were narrow, befitting a train, so their knees nearly touched under the table. She opened the wine list and tried to concentrate on what she was reading.

  As she pretended to read the list, Joseph’s hand brushed the inside of her left thigh, lingered for just a second, and then brushed the other side. He did not come near her labium. Just brushed. And again, a moment later. And then again.

  “Well, what is it going to be?” Joseph asked. “You’re taking a very long time, Leila. I’d really like my wine sooner than later.”

  Leila drew herself up and composed herself, knowing he would appreciate this. “Very well, Joseph. I am going to opt for something not exactly local, given our surroundings, “ she beckoned to the darkness outside, with speckles of light in the far-off distance, “but a northern wine, all the same. I know it’s not exactly conventional, but I think an eiswein out of Northern Germany will do nicely.”

  She smiled at him triumphantly. “It’s an ice wine, you know: the grapes have been allowed to freeze on the vine. It intensifies the grapes’ sugars, making the taste that much more flavorful. This one here,” Leila said pointing at the wine list,

  ‘is made with Gewurztraminer grapes, which goes nicely with seafood. Which I intend to be having tonight.”

  “Oh, well played, Ms. Leila, well played,” Joseph applauded, bringing his hands up from under the table. “I am most impressed.”

  “But,” he added. “Are you sure about the seafood? Out on the steppe of Siberia nearly?”

  “Most sure,” she said. “It is our first night out of Moscow and therefore the only night we should be ordering seafood. It will have been freshly caught and delivered this morning into port. Tomorrow will be a steak night for me, but tonight it is lobster.”

  “Oh, you are full of surprises, aren’t you?” Joseph teased.

  “As are you, sir,” Leila teased back.

  Joseph smiled and relaxed, letting his hands slip back under the table.

  “Then I shall let you do the ordering tonight, Ms. Leila. You are in charge.”

  “Of ordering? Of course,” she grinned back at him. “Everything else? I’m not so sure.”

  When the waiter came to take their orders, Joseph took some action of his own. His hand that had been previously just brushing her thighs and giving them the occasional light kneading suddenly opened up into a fan and rested gently on her vulva.

  When Leila opened her mouth to speak, she found a finger sliding its way into her wet opening.

  She gave a sharp intake of breath and then composed herself. “We’ll be having a bottle of the German eiswein to start,” she said, her eyes only briefly leaving the waiter to give Joseph a look of eyes-open-wide.

  “Very good,” the waiter replied, all business. The candle on the table illuminated their faces in the mirrored window, Tchaikovsky played quietly in the background and everything was warm and misty and incredibly dream-like, yet acutely real.

  As his index finger prodded the warm wet walls of the entry to her vulva his other fingers gently applied pressure to her mons pubis. She stifled a moan, turning it into a statement instead: “And we will each have a bowl of your wild mushroom soup as a starter.”

  “Excellent choice. I’ll return for your entrée order later.”

  As he was looking directly at Leila and smiling, Joseph suddenly plunged his index finger deep inside her, eliciting a shudder and a sharp blowing out of breath.

  “Yes, ma’am? Anything else?” the waiter inquired, turning around. She could see he was feeling unexpectedly aroused himself, though hopefully he didn’t quite know why. He must have suspected, though. Did he?

  “No, that will be all for now. Thank you,” she breathed throatily as Joseph’s finger continued to swish through her circular corridor. She clenched together her inner muscles, feeling them tighten around Joseph’s finger, and it was his turn to exhale.

  “Oh, yes, Leila, you learn so quickly. Feel my erection, darling.” With his free hand, he took hers and placed it on his swollen thigh. “I’d like to take you right here, right now, but let’s prolong the pleasure, shall we?”

  “Yes, let’s,” Leila agreed. She was so tipsy from the titillation of it all that the wine was not necessary.

  “We are going to draw this out all night long,” Joseph purred, not taking his eyes off of her for even a second. “I am going to drive you to the heights of insanity, Leila.”

  “I think you already have,” Leila answered as he took his finger out of her and brought it to his lips, sucking it as though it were a swizzle stick.

  “Oh, no,” he answered. “You’ve not seen anything yet, Leila. And I’d kindly ask you to remove your hand from my crotch now. I wanted to show you how turned on I am, but, really, this is all about you. I can wait.”

  Leila felt as though she could no longer wait. She felt as though she had waited her whole life for this. This was the pinnacle of her existence, this moment, in this dining car, with this man. It simply did not get better.

  Or did it?

  The wine was brought and as the waiter uncorked the bottle, Leila’s stirrings increased as well. Joseph’s hand had returned and his middle finger was working like a corkscrew of its own; she was becoming progressively more undone herself.

  “Since madam did the ordering would she care to sample the wine?” the waiter asked, pouring a smattering into her glass.

  “Yes, of course.”

  As she picked up the glass by its stem, Joseph plunged his finger inside her once again, fully erect. She gasped as she swallowed.

  “To your satisfaction, madam?”

  “Oh, yes,” she breathed and straightened up in her seat, every muscle tensed, ready to orgasm at that moment.

  Joseph just gazed at her unflinchingly, smiling. Not once had he looked upon the waiter or taken his eyes off her face.

  When the waiter left, Joseph said, “Unbutton your sweater, Leila.”

  She obliged, but only just. One button. Two buttons.

  “All the buttons, Leila. That’s right,” he said. The waiter was just bringing their soup as she was finishing the job. She flushed even more deeply. Joseph’s hand was now resting on the outside of her pussy, petting it very lightly. She felt as though she were treading water, wishing desperately for any part of him to enter her, but being driven mad by desire just by the slightest pressure of his hand.

  The other hand was placed on top of the table, drumming it. Whether the waiter recognized anything was going on at all, he gave no indication.

  He took their meal order and removed himself, leaving them all to themselves in the crowded, boisterous room with just the candle glow to illuminate their faces.

  “Look at you,” Joseph said, removing his hand from her altogether and picking up his soupspoon. “I’m afraid that is all I shall be able to do for the next little while. Regrettably I require both of my hands to eat my meal.”

  “I’m not sure I can wait,” she answered breathlessly. “Can we skip dinner?” (Something she had never said in her life.)

  “Absolutely not,” he answered sternly. “Waiting is essential to our pleasure. You will see. And, besides, you need your sustenance.”

  And so they had their creamy wild mushroom soup and crusty French bread. The dining car was becoming more crowded. Their table easily fitted four and there had been a sign notifying diners that they might be asked to share their table at busy hours. Just after their lobsters arrived, the waiter approached with a handsome couple, probably in their mid-forties, dressed for a formal dinner.

  “We hope it will be all right if we join you for dinner,” the handsome m
an said graciously. “We hate to interrupt.”

  “Nonsense,” Joseph replied, rising from the table. “We would be most delighted for you to join us. Wouldn’t we, Leila?”

  Leila smiled and nodded. She was disappointed but perhaps it would hasten the return to their compartment, she thought.

  Marie, the woman, sat next to Leila, and they engaged in a banter of small talk about their respective hometowns and pursuits. Tom, the handsome, George Clooney-esque man, sat next to Joseph, with both lovely women in his full-view.

  Leila was acutely aware of her wide-open cardigan. When she glanced down after dripping butter from her lobster, she was ashamed not by the spill but by the fact that her nipples were long and erect and poking through the satin sheen in all their glory. She saw both Joseph and Tom gazing upon them with no reservations whatsoever. Marie was busy regaling everyone with a story about a misadventure in the mall; she was also quite preoccupied with her cocktail and didn’t appear to notice her husband’s wandering eyes. Joseph’s eyes shone with delight.

  “Darling, you seem to have gotten yourself a bit dirty, haven’t you?” Joseph chided.

  “We’ve only just met,” he added, “but already she’s spilled a few times. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

  There was really nothing Leila could do but continue eating, drinking and being aroused. She was almost beyond caring what others noticed or didn’t notice due to her intense arousal. But not quite. She met Tom’s eyes but couldn’t keep his gaze. She continued leveraging her lobster with the stainless steel cracker, and her face took on the color of the crustacean she was rough-handling.

  Tom and Marie were just receiving their meals and Joseph and Leila had already finished. She was desperate to leave and finish what they had started here back in their quarters. This seemed the perfect opportunity to plead tiredness and jump ship.

  The waiter returned and asked if they would be having any dessert.

  Leila rushed in, “None for me, thank you.”