Author's Note: Thanks to angel love for her excellent editing.
*
Judith's breathing returned to normal as the last flutters of her orgasm subsided. She caressed Emma's cheek with her lips and whispered into her ear, "Let's get that present for you shall we?"
"That wasn't it?" Emma breathed with a smile as her own pussy felt the waning gratification. She had waited for so long to taste Judith; to make her cum, it seemed only right that it would happen on her birthday.
Judith beamed back and rolled away from Emma to reach under the bunk. Pulling out a wooden chest she said, "You're eighteen now Emma. A young woman, and you will be leaving me . . . the convent soon."
Emma peered into the chest to see. A hand mirror, a bag of makeup, two pairs of shoes, two sets of matching stockings, knickers and bras, and two beautiful dresses, one burgundy red and one emerald green.
Emma giggled at the thought of a nun keeping these things under her bunk.
"I bought these when I thought I would be leaving the convent," Judith said. "They're not much use to me now, but I kept them for you."
Emma's heart was suddenly humbled. All the times Judith had been so strict with her and yet she had been keeping these things for this day.
"She has loved me all along," Emma thought, "and I was a child."
...........................................
Emma awoke and felt the tightness in her limbs from sleeping awkwardly in her seat. She had been sleeping with her head against the window and for a moment, the cold that had seeped into her forehead numbed her thoughts. Through the window there was blackness; nothingness, the compartment closed to the world as if nothing existed beyond its flimsy structure. The dimmed compartment light reflected the image of the man stood with his back to her, buttoning his cuffs and brushing himself down. The train lurched and he rocked steadily against the movement.
Emma stretched to bring life back to her body as she stifled a yawn.
"Oh," said the man. "I was about to wake you. They will be serving dinner soon. Actually I was going to wake you earlier; you looked like you were having a nightmare."
Emma squinted through her sleepiness and replied, "Erm, yes; something like that." She blushed remembering her dream of Judith.
"Greg -- Greg Martin," he said, leaning toward her and offering his hand.
Greg's handshake was gentle but Emma marvelled at the size and power of his hand compared to hers. It was smooth, not callused or hardened as that of a 'country boy' as she had presumed of him, when he had first joined the compartment earlier that day.
Her eyes followed his arm to his shoulders and neck. His pressed white shirt exposed the small of his throat and the tip of his chest at the open collar.
"He's shaved," she thought, as the musky air of his cologne fell upon her.
"Emma," she managed eventually to reply.
"You hungry?" Greg offered.
His quizzical eyes were slate grey. Staring into them Emma realized that her jaw had dropped slightly and she was still holding his hand.
"I have to change," Emma blurted as she jumped to her feet.
In a deft leap Emma grabbed her bag from the overhead rack and dived into the compartment's shower cell.
The door swang shut and clicked behind her as the light above the mirror blinked on. Emma looked at her reflection. Her hair was knotted from sleep and her now two-day-old school uniform was dishevelled. It reminded her of a scene from Little Orphan Annie.
"Great," Emma thought. "Not only do I look like a kid, I also look like a tramp." She chastised herself for her quick judgement of his appearance when he had joined the train.
The shower cell was still warm from his shower and in the confined space the smell of his cologne made her dizzy. She reached into her bag and pulled out the dress, hanging it on the door in the hope that the steam would de-crease it. She had been saving it for tomorrow, to step off the train as a woman and to throw her uniform away.
"Now's as good a time as any" Emma shrugged.
She turned on the shower and peeled the convent uniform over her head as the compact room filled with steam. Steadying herself against the sink she pulled off her school shoes and socks. Taking another look at herself in the mirror, Emma smiled in her mind and said goodbye to the childish bra and panties as they dropped to the floor. Her clothes lay around like discarded dolls and broken toys -- Emma was stepping into womanhood.
As Emma showered, she found herself thinking of Greg, who only moments before, had stood where she was now. She imagined his tall strong frame filling the cubicle, his muscular body shining from the water gushing over him. She pictured his strong hands gliding soap suds down his torso. She had never seen a naked man in the flesh, but the girls at the convent had pictures that she had seen.
She imagined he was in the shower with her, the confined space forcing her back against the wall whilst his body pressed against hers. Trapping her; holding her; swallowing her with his body. She breathed in the fading scent of his cologne as she caressed her nipples. She moaned and bit her lip as she cupped her pert breasts, pinching her blood red nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. The water rushed over her stomach and poured between her legs like a hot stream, gushing over her clitoral hood and between her lips. Running her hand down the flat of her stomach she found her aching pussy. She parted her lips and the hot droplets began to rain on her clitoris.
"Oh fuck," Emma breathed heavily, her body shaking from the relentless stimulation. She felt the shock of her mind's wanderings made real by her body's illicit reaction.
