Amusing Train Ride Ch 02

As I rotated the brass bolt of the toilet door and felt it click into place, she smiled up at me, her childlike face inches from mine. I felt her sweet breath on my cheek like the first spring breeze. A few thin whips of downy, flaxen hair escaped from the silver hair clasp at the base of her neck and lifted to tickle my temples.

She wasted no time, but began to unbuckle my belt and deftly slipped each black polished trouser button through its matching hole, never taking her eyes from mine. A small grin played about the corners of her mouth, yet in contrast, she had a melancholy aura about her eyes.

Her mouth held my attention more even than what her hands were doing. It was a wonderful feature, soft, full lips with sensuous curves, wide hiding even milky teeth behind which lurked that warm insistent tongue that I had so recently experienced delving into my mouth. I so longed to cover her mouth with mine and so to let her feel the hunger for her that spun my head again. To have my response acknowledged with her whole being was knocking my knees from with under me. The temptation to taste her lips again was strong.

I had to place my hands behind me and grip the lavatory edge to steady myself against the swaying of the train. My lethargic phallus was beginning to stir, sniffing life as to if to recall its duty. She deftly slipped her hand under my shirt and down into my underwear, pushing the waistband down in the process while with her other hand, she grasp my privates and levered them up and over, exposing me to her downcast gaze.

"Ooooh! Well, well now! This is more like it! Ample, but still a bit flaccid though don't you think? Maybe we can do something about this before dinner, even?"

She said this looking directly into my eyes as she held my testicles in one hand and moved her other hand slowly to the tip of my pineal shaft, encircling the knob with her fist and twisting, her thumb and middle finger not meeting. She sank to one knee and placed a feather kiss under the glans followed by a very wet lick. I looked down at her. She licked again to soak the tender under glans so that the ball of her thumb slicked up and down, around and around. I swelled to bursting; my breath came in gasps. I felt as a trout out of water.

"Yes, Oh dear Lord, yes!" I sighed.

Thinking that she couldn't possibly open her mouth wide enough to take in the girth, I placed one hand under her chin, hooking my thumb behind one side of her jaw and my middle finger behind the other side and with a firm grip, palm beneath her chin, I pulled her upward. She followed, but with a slightly puzzled look on her face. Her blond hair cascaded down to her shoulders beginning as tight curls on the sides of her head and opening into long spiral coils. She smelled of lavender and lilac.

Yet I couldn't let her continue, not then, anyway.

Instead, when she was standing her full height up on her tip toes, I spun her body about and held her close, my chin over her shoulder, my ear against hers, feeling the softness of her cheek against mine, the roughness of the stubble of my beard digging into her face. I kissed her cheek with the corner of my mouth and pulled back to take her earlobe into my lips. She arched her back and hung her head back over my shoulder, her eyes closed.

I found my hands across her front, one on her hip the other cupping a small, but very alert breast with erect nipple. The nipple lodged out resting between my index and fore fingers. I squeezed it and moved my fingers together.

I whispered to her, "I have an entire compartment for this trip my dear. I would be honored if you could share dinner with me now and then share my accommodation later. If you see your way clear, that may be much more suitable than stolen moments in toilets and under blankets. "

She giggled. "Sir, the honor would be mine, but what leads you to think that I do not also have a birth?"

I simply shrugged.

What was the matter with me? I wanted her so badly. I needed a release. She was being eager not demanding, youthful, but not young, certainly not a child.

I had had younger women in my past during drunken debaucheries. I could still rent them by the dozen delivered to my door should I choose. Once I recalled I fancied I wanted a harem which led to my pleasuring eight deflowered virgins at once. (That is another story for another time and was more an exercise in logistics than romance.)

She was in her quaint and charming way, an innocent. I, on the other hand, was an old goat. I no longer had any marriage to be concerned about. My only child had disappeared into the nothingness of the night many years before.

My business and family fortune, while not immense, had left me comfortable and able to indulge in such excursions as this one that I was now enjoying although I rarely gave myself that permission anymore. I was in danger of becoming a recluse; sleeping days and pacing nights.

The winter had not been kind to me. I had suffered a series of minor ailments that plague the ageing, a signal that from now on life would be a cascade of declines the recovery from each destine to take longer than the last until as each set of organs failed, death would finally overtake us and our corporeal beings would be recycled into the great, churning, mix this particular arrangement never to be repeated.

I was depressed, befuddled, and hopeless. I felt a twisted, dried husk of a person. An aimless, pointless, and drifting hulk who was good to no one, indeed, with my temper, had I been a ship, I might have been considered a menace to the seas.

I could have afforded anything, but wanted nothing. I had tried many of the suggestions from well meaning friends as well as advice from those who had their own agendas. I escorted many beautiful women to numerous lavish affairs and shared the beds of all sorts from slatterns to nobility, married, virgin, hopeful, and adventurous. I was not immune from the wiles of pretty men and combinations.

For a time I devoted myself to other sports. Never reaching any level of proficiency except in riding and shooting. I dabbled in Eastern Meditation and philosophy. I anonymously funded groups to help free people of color to become established in their own businesses.

I was touched by the arts and found sculpture to be to my liking, a passion in fact, but then that too, at last faded and my focus blurred. It seemed that as soon as one thing would catch my interest, I tired of it and cut loose until I drifted into another diversion.

My needs became more simple until, my one remaining discipline had been to keep a journal, yet the entries became shorter and less meaningful until for weeks it was a string of dates much like the tally marks on a prison cell wall to track the date. I wanted out, but suicide was not an option that I was prepared to accept.

I had made some preparations and left instructions to the small household staff concerning the family property and booked tickets west. I had thought of reserving a private car, but I was not seeking isolation, just a little privacy, therefore; I chose a double compartment with the toilet and double bed that First Class offered. I needed a new start.

I rearranged my clothing and stepped from the room, across the enclosed platform and into the dinning car where I used that toilet to wash my hands for dinner.

Not more than a few minutes later, she entered the car. She had changed out of her dress and now was wearing baggy purple velour trousers with a lavender silk waist sash and a navy velvet vest with gold buttons over a white lace blouse. In her ears she wore long fine chain earrings of gold.

How she had managed the time to redo her hair I would never know, but there are some mysteries of the female sex that are just beyond my ability to learn. She was very becoming and exotic in this attire, even if it were not entirely appropriate for evening; however, as we were traveling, most passengers were also nominally underdressed. I stood by as the waiter seated her at our table.

I had ordered an '02 Merlot and a dozen oysters on the half-shell. I nodded at the waiter, a slim young man with a pencil mustache and a complexion of anthracite coal wearing a spotless white jacket. He spun the wine carafe in the ice before he spilled a dash into my goblet. I sniffed the rich bouquet and felt my mouth flood in anticipation. As the deep red liquid washed over and around my teeth and tongue my entire mouth awakened. I sat the glass down and he filled her goblet to one third of the brim before he in turn filled mine.

She lifted her glass and uttered in a low throaty voice, "A toast to performance and success in our future?"

"No matter what the endeavor, how big...or how small." was my response.

We raised our glasses and touched the crystal rims together. She wrinkled her nose. I raised one eyebrow.

She had a greens with asparagus spears and tomato salad with wine vinaigrette and olive oil dressing. She poured a drop of oil and a little vinaigrette into her side dish, she stirred them together adding a dash of salt.

When her salad arrived, she speared a ripe cherry tomato with her fork and rotated it in the mix of dressing picking up a thick coating and placed the fruit into her mouth onto her tongue. She pursed her lips until the tomato peeked out between her lips, her gaze fixed on me. As she bit down and her lips pursed to contain the fruit, I could hear the muffled "pop" when the skin broke and the pulp exploded into her mouth.

The six oysters that I had ordered arrived and they were huge, sitting on the Railroad plate nestled in a bed of deep green lettuce. I had a fleeting mental image of six sea nymphs lounging nude on the tidal rocks in kelp beds. The candle light played a glittering elegance over their wet surfaces like the early rising morning sun on wet beach pebbles, fresh washed by the passing surf.

She swallowed and pulled her lips into a little lopsided grin, showing me her teeth. She chewed each spear of asparagus separately after dipping it with deliberation into the dressing. Her lips made little "O's" around the shaft when she sucked the dressing from the head bit of the tips. After she had removed the liquid from the tip, she pulled back those luscious lips and bit cleanly through the head with her teeth exposed.

I love to inhale the aroma of freshly shucked oysters before I gently pluck one from its shell and let it slide into my mouth where I can feel the cool moist flesh give between my tongue and my palette. The light salt liquor oozed between my teeth.

Occasionally her nostrils would flare as if she were a predator eyeing her prey as she attentively never allowed her gaze to leave my face. I was mesmerized. I could imagine how a bird must feel before the strike of a viper.

One doesn't sink one's teeth into an oyster so much as one squeezes it until it bursts, flooding one's oral cavity with a nectar of the sea and the raw flesh forms a delicate taste sensation and texture of smoothness and slickness found in warm clotted cream. Flavors are released as the warmth of one's mouth heats the delicate flesh of the oyster.

For her main course, she selected the Cornish hen stuffed with green peas and sautéed mushrooms. The dish came surrounded with small new potatoes and carrots tossed with lightly steamed clams. She shucked each clam with her fork and stacked the shells aside, each cupped inside the former.

I always linger to savor the experience allowing each sense in its turn to fully be expressed to perfection, thus to fully and slowly enjoy each unique bouquet. Each species has its own complete set of attributes that delight the tongue, nose, and palate. My favorite is from the southern most islands of New Zealand; however, these were from the coast of main and were delightful in their way as any other.

For a moment I thought to change my entrée, these fragrant jewels of the tide were so large, but in the end I chose to keep my order of the 16 oz porterhouse bison steak, chuck wagon fries, green beans, and squash.

I prefer my venison rare, but with a seared crust on the exterior; very little or no fat; grilled, not fried. I knew the chef's work well and anticipated another totally satisfying dining experience. This was done to my taste.

I later had to struggle to manage even half of the entree although it was excellent.

She deftly dismembered the bird, removing first its wings and legs, eating the morsels of flesh as she went, neatly stacking the bones to one side. Before she finished the last thigh, she offered it to me! I was taken aback and refused, but amused when she placed the whole piece into her mouth to strip the meat from the bone as she pulled it out through her teeth.

I stabbed my fork into the two inch thick slab of meat and slid my blade across it feeling little resistance. The blade opened the dense tissue and a long, thin, blood red ribbon rolled away from the main.

Using her knife and fork, she opened the carcass and lifted off the tender plump breasts, setting the smooth, white, succulent slivers aside until she had picked up her spoon and scooped out the moist, sticky stuffing. She sat to devouring the remainder of her dinner between draughts of wine. I noticed that she had a bit of stuffing on the tip of her nose. I touched my nose with my napkin and nodded to her. She understood, but instead of removing it with her napkin, you can imagine my shock when she licked it off! The woman had a tongue like a lizard! She giggled, I assume at my expression. Her eyes seemed to turn from the innocent pale periwinkle blue to a fiery yellow orange.

It was at this point that she suggested dessert. I preferred a only a Drambui while she chose raspberry sorbet.

I found myself pleasantly lightheaded after the second carafe of wine and in a rather exuberant mood which was radically different from what I'd been struggling through for the last year.

I was against my usual custom of retiring to the smoking car for a time to be a waste tonight, but she insisted that I go saying that she needed some time to herself, alone and without distractions. I ordered a bottle of brandy and a single red rose to be sent to my compartment and then I strolled to the smoking car.