Chapter 1
Joel Vincent surveyed the lounge car of the westbound California Zephyr. He smiled ruefully as he realized that fantasy rarely lives up to the realty.
While watching an old mystery movie about train travel in his hotel room, He had impulsively decided to take the train home. This Amtrak train did not live up to the storied opulence of the Orient Express, the fabled Paris to Istanbul train. There were no mysterious femme fatales prepared to jump into bed with the handsome stranger. There were no liveried servants obsequiously moving silver service carts to private compartments. Neither was the lounge car done in shiny oak and well polished leather.
On either side of the car were tan lounge chairs angled toward the large observation window. Between each pair of chairs was a small service table. The dominant theme was 20th century modern. The "leather" was actually leatherette. The tables were nondescript black plastic. The central aisle was just wide enough for passengers to walk through single file.
A semicircular service bar stood at the entrance to the car. A voluptuous African-American woman stood alertly behind the bar. She was approximately his age with dark chocolate skin and frosted blonde hair. In keeping with the duties of her job, she wore a broad smile and nodded to acknowledge him.
"Good afternoon sir! Welcome aboard! How can I serve you?"
"Thank you. Do you have Martell?"
"Yes we do! How would you like that?"
"Give that to me straight up with a Corona chaser."
"Yes sir. Coming right up. Sir, why don't you take a seat and I'll bring your drink to you."
Joel noticed the full hips of the bartender as she busied herself preparing his drinks. Then he glanced around the lounge car. There was only one other person there. She was an older white woman. Her half-empty drink sat in front of her as she sat in the lounge chair watching as the train moved through the industrial areas of Chicago.
So much, he thought, for mysterious femme fatales.
Joel nodded and moved toward the center of the lounge car. He took a seat that angled toward the older white woman but with two chairs and a table between them. When she looked up, he smiled and nodded.
Kathy noticed the young black man enter the lounge car. She watched as he ordered his drink. He was quite handsome with his shaved head, Fu Manchu mustache and goatee. His skintight jeans emphasized the fullness of his butt and suggested a respectable package. He wore gray T-shirt with the tail out. He wore no socks with his well-worn sneakers.
Kathy was returning from spending a month in Chicago with her daughter. The birth of her new grand baby had been difficult and Annie appreciated her mother's help. Kathy enjoyed watching the affectionate interplay between her son-in-law and her daughter. They really cared for each other.
Now she was traveling from the hustle and bustle of caring for new life back to her prosaic life in California. Despite the fact that her John had to take early retirement at 60 because of heart problems, they lived the good life in San Mateo. On the downside, his illness adversely affected their sex life.
Restless for a moment, Kathy shifted in her chair and recrossed her legs. It had been difficult for her first. At 50, she felt like she was in the prime of her sexual life. However, over time, and with a liberal use of toys, she managed. However, she felt an itch for an adventure.
As she watched Joel take his seat, a faint tug of memory took her back 32 years to Derek and their baby. She shook herself. Now where did that come from, she thought. She smiled and nodded back at Joel.
"Really not much to see here, Kathy said just old factories and old buildings."
"And thus it is around most train stations, Joel said waxing poetic, surrounded by the flotsam and jetsam of another era."
"Oh my, Kathy tittered, you sound like a poet."
"Oh my God no, Joel laughed, that one phrase exhausted my entire poetic repertoire."
Joel surveyed the 50ish full figured white woman. She wore her grey streaked brownish hair in a tight bun behind her head. There were faint crow's feet around her eyes and laugh lines around her mouth. Her chest was full and hung heavy. She wore a flowered button up the front knee length dress. As she recrossed her legs, he caught a glimpse of her full pink thighs.
"Well, since we are the only ones here and we have a similar interest in slum architecture, why don't you join me?"
Kathy was a little surprised at herself for being so forward. However, he seemed harmless enough and the bartender was standing behind the bar not 30 feet away. Besides, she thought, he looks interesting. Kathy was not in the habit of picking up men. However, a month away from her husband and watching the affection between her daughter and her husband left her feeling a little lonely.
Joel was a little surprised at the sudden invitation but figured, what the hell, I am not going to do anything today anyway.
For the next several hours, the two strangers chatted about their families, their travel preferences and the state of the industrial slums around Chicago. Kathy admitted to being a white knuckle flyer. After a terrifying flight from San Francisco to Chicago, she had elected to take the train home. A little embarrassed, Joel shared his fantasy of the Orient Express.
Feeling the effects of her third seven and seven, Kathy offered that there was no way she could be confused with a dark haired mysterious foreign beauty. She went on to say her hair used to be bright red and that freckles still covered a good portion of her body.
A few hours into their session, they were behaving like old friends. To make a point, they would lean forward and touch the other's hand. When one or the other laughed, the hand would go to the other's shoulder.
Kathy had not had this much fun in years. Despite the difference in years, there was a connection. Kathy even felt comfortable enough to do a little flirting. She turned her chair so that she faced Joel, and crossed her legs at the ankle. She knew that caused her skirt to rise and show off a little thigh. She imagined the stories she could tell her bowling team about flirting with this young black man.
Joel found Kathy interesting and personable. Their conversation was eclectic. He noticed that Kathy was flirting a little. She touched him a little more than was necessary. Her skirt had ridden high on her thighs. Rather than look away, he made a point of complementing her on her legs. His reward was a flirtatious giggle and a perfunctory tug on her skirt. Mentally, he tried to picture her as the redhead she said she was. He imagined her nude with red hair laying on the pillow and her pussy covered by a thick matching thatch.
Night fell as the two chatted. The train had picked up speed. The railcar developed a soft sway as the train moved through the darkened landscape. They could hear the soft moan of the whistle as it made its way pass the numerous rail crossings. The faint clickety-clack of the wheels on the rails provided the backdrop to their conversation.
"Look, I've enjoyed our conversation but this old lady needs to get some rest."
"Same here, Joel said, perhaps we can have breakfast together."
The last time Kathy was this high was after her bowling team won the championship. She felt all giggly warm. She looked at the young man speculatively. An image of a sweaty encounter with his dark skin on top of her white skin flashed through her mind. She mentally shook herself. Watch it girl, she thought, you getting ready to go off the rails. She had not packed her vibrator for this trip so it looked like it was her fingers again tonight.
