Every night, for the past two weeks, Eva had dreamt she was on the same train, with the same man.
Sometimes he had a wife with him. They sat across from her in the carriage. The wife didn't acknowledge her presence. But he stared at Eva intently, and it gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Eva didn't need to look down to know she was dressed in the same outfit that she wore every night. She could feel the pressure of the corsetry, the heaviness of the full-length skirt. And the upper parts of her breasts were pushed up on display, she knew, because she could feel the air on them. Her hair was up, she didn't know in what style. The man's wife was also in period dress, and so was he. They seemed upper class. Eva wasn't sure of his name; she believed it was something along the lines of Steven.
Every time Steven had his wife with him he would touch her, but keep his gaze on Eva. The wife would flutter her thick lashes and smile as Steven gently stroked her arm. Then she would arch her back and moan in exaggerated fashion as his fingers grazed over her collarbone, along the upper half of her enormous breasts. The rest of her body was bound protectively with swathes of ebony silk. Eva despised what she perceived as the vulgarity of this woman. She would wake up as soon as Steven finished touching the wife's breasts.
On this night, however, Eva didn't wake up, and the dream took a different turn. Steven began to kiss the wife's neck. He licked its length with his head turned slightly, his eyes still on Eva. The flesh beneath Eva's dress started to get sticky and hot. She was torn between anger at this outrageous display before her, and an overwhelming desire to be the wife, who was receiving so much pleasure. Eva squirmed from the heat that was gathering in her very depths. It felt like someone was pouring warm liquid down her belly, between her thighs. She was feeling swollen, hungry. She got up and went to the window, quivering as her legs rubbed together.
It was pitch black outside. Eva knew the train was moving, she could feel it rumbling and rattling, but there was no landscape visible through the glass. She pressed her sticky forehead to the window. The sounds of the woman behind her, giggling like a child, made Eva furious.
"Steven," she whispered. "Forget your wife. I demand that you pleasure me".
The hunger in her belly became unbearable, and Eva felt a surge of emotion rise up in her chest. Tears filled her eyes. The rumbling of the train passed through her and made her shiver. She got a waft then, of a heavy floral scent, and knew it belonged to the wife. Two hands started firmly rubbing her breasts from behind.
Eva's body felt weak, and she became dizzy from the sensation of the wife's hands, massaging her through the bodice. She jumped all of a sudden as cold metal met with her heated skin. Scissors were pressed at her chest. Black silk covered her eyes and was fastened at the back of her head. She was spun around. Eva felt unbalanced. She was sure they had begun to go faster.
Someone was slowly cutting the fabric of Eva's bodice, beginning at the edge of her left breast. The fabric was ripped, cut and ripped again. Eva felt her breasts bob free of the restraining gown. She blushed furiously, imagined the eyes that were watching her. Were there more people in the carriage? Yet her nipples were hard, and desire rose up through her body without mercy again.
