The Same Train of Thought
There are chance meetings with strangers that interest us from the first moment, before a word is spoken.
-Fyodor Dostoevsky
O vernight travel was getting tiresome. For more than the obvious reasons. I was fatigued, yes, but also exhausted from the bi-weekly back and forth. At least I didn’t have to drive. That would be untenable. I’d quit my job tomorrow if they told me I had to pay my way or drive myself to these ridiculous meetings. But a job was a job, and this one was halfway decent.
The sleeper train was nice enough, and corporate paid for a first-class car, so at least I had comfortable seating for day travel and small, albeit cozy, sleeping quarters for the overnight portion. It may as well be my second home. The staff on this line all knew me by name now. I wasn’t sure if I should be proud of that or if it was a little sad.
Every trip was the same. Board Monday morning, ride through the entire day, then turn in for a mediocre sleep in my cabin. Travel through the following morning and arrive around noon at my destination. Best part? Work for six hours before doing it all again in reverse. The same routine every single time.
Except for the day I saw her .
She sat a few seats from me, watching the trees go by out the window while the sun sank low on the horizon. Golden light shone across her body, giving her skin a gilded glow. It contrasted with the dark waves that fell to her shoulders and black, thick-rimmed glasses that outlined her eyes.
Her full figure was soft and sensual. I couldn’t help but notice. Seven months of riding this train, and I’d seen plenty of women. Tall, short, skinny, fat, old, young—you name it. But I’d never seen a woman that made me stop and take note. A woman like her .
I didn’t want to come across as a creep, staring at her. So, I did my best to keep my eyes on my book—some mass-market paperback thriller I’d picked up at a gas station a week ago. Never read a James Patterson novel in my life. To say it was a struggle to concentrate on the words he’d written was an understatement .
Cursing myself for dressing so casually, I shifted in my seat. I stopped wearing suits on the train after my second commute. There was no reason to be uncomfortable for thirty-odd hours. Jeans and a T-shirt were much more appropriate for the ride, but if there was one day I wished I was back in my suit, it was that day.
Of course, she looked perfect. How could she not? Light, billowy fabric falling around her curves, soft and silky. I wanted to rub my face against it. No doubt she would be even softer.
Caught up in my daydream, I didn’t realize I was staring again until it was too late. Her eyes drifted up and locked on mine. I swear my heart stopped beating for a full second. My instinct was to look away as quickly as I could, but then she did something that stopped me in my tracks.
She smiled at me, and I almost passed out right then and there.
One side of her lips tilted up more than the other, creating a cute, lopsided smile. Warm and inviting. One dimple appeared on her right cheek, and that was it for me. I was a goner. A beautiful woman like this, smiling at me . I would’ve been happy to leave it at that for the rest of the trip, but then she beckoned to me.
Such a slight movement. She tilted her head back to signal to come over . Shoving my book back into my travel bag, I made my way down the aisle and took the seat across from her .
She asked me what I was doing on the train; I asked her the same. We were both traveling for business. I mentioned how beautiful she looked in the sun's light as it faded. Her giggle was musical and charming, shooting another arrow into my heart. I asked for her name, but she shook her head. A playful grin graced her lips, and she stood, offering me her hand.
She said it’d be better if we didn’t know each other's names. We could have one exceptional night together and go our separate ways tomorrow. No strings attached, no hang-ups, no messy potential. Nodding my agreement, I told her where my sleeper cabin was, and she took us there, my hand in hers. I was right—her skin was supple and perfect against my rough palms.
Pulling us into my cabin, she placed her palm on my chest and closed the space between us. My arms wrapped around her instinctively. I dipped down and kissed her pillow-like lips, tasting coconut lip gloss. Somehow, I knew the flavour suited her. Flirty and fun.
It didn’t take long before she deepened the kiss, opening her mouth and teasing at mine with her tongue. I matched her in passion as she grabbed handfuls of my shirt and tugged me toward the bed. My hands found the hem of her blouse and pulled it over her head. She slipped out of her jeans, urging me to take off my clothes too. It took me a second to find my belt buckle as I gaped at the generous curves of her body. She was thick and voluptuous. Her breasts threatened to spill out of her bra, and her stomach had soft stretch marks along the sides, leading down into her satin underwear.
That giggle sprang from her mouth once again, melodious and tinkling. No doubt she was laughing at the dumbstruck look on my face. Her hands found my belt and helped me shrug out of my pants. Reaching behind my head with one hand, I pulled my shirt off in one fluid motion, dropping it to the floor. I was nothing compared to her. Absolutely nothing, but for some reason, she wanted me.
I practically salivated at the sight of her. She dropped to her knees and slid my boxers down my thighs. Looking up at me with a glimmer in her eyes, her hands wrapped around my length and pumped. It was tough not to let out a moan the moment her skin touched mine. I tried to contain it. She could tell I was holding it in and encouraged me to be vocal, telling me she loved hearing men whimper their satisfaction.
Her mouth swallowed my tip, and a deep groan left my mouth, filling the cramped cabin. She licked up and down my dick, coating it with her saliva, making it slick. Taking all of me in her mouth this time, she hummed in contentment as I hit the back of her throat. Her gaze on mine had me melting.
Working up and down my shaft with her plump lips, she st ill gripped the base of me with one hand. She moved her mouth and hand in tandem, twisting and sucking. My palms found her head and encouraged her movements, fingers digging into her hair. My body began to tense, and she pulled off, kissing the tip of my dick with her red, swollen lips. They wouldn’t taste like coconut anymore. I’d bet anything they tasted like me. The thought sent a fresh wave of blood to my erection.
I pulled her to her feet and kissed her—tasting myself on her tongue. We fell back onto the twin bed, my hands fumbling for her underwear, pulling it off. Settling myself between her legs so she had to wrap them around me, I kissed my way up her silken body.
Her voice called out to me, asking me to fill her. At first, I objected, desperately wanting to please her first. Make her pleasure a priority. This needed to be as memorable for her as it was going to be for me. She shook her head. Loose waves fell against my pillow. Her legs tightened around my waist and pulled me in. My dick was notched at her entrance. Words of wanting fell from her lips, and I couldn’t help but indulge her.
I slid in without another protest. She was wet enough for me to fully seat myself inside her without worrying about pain. Soft touches caressed my back. The pads of her fingers moved in unhurried strokes across my skin. Hips bucking against my own coaxed me on. We mo ved together, reveling in the sensation of our bodies pressed against one another.
Our breath mingled, and our sweat mixed while we moved together as one. I don’t know what I expected when she pulled me into my cabin, but I know it wasn’t this. Sex, yes. But this kind of sex? It was almost…profound. We moved together, unhurried. Enjoying the excitement, the gentle touches, the slow build of pleasure.
Together, we became something intoxicating.
I wrapped my arms around her, memorizing the way her soft skin felt against mine. My tongue found her collarbone and traced a path up her throat. A soft sigh fell from her lips.
Ample thighs tightened around my hips when she moaned out her release. I buried my head in her breasts, wanting to suffocate in them, as I shuddered out my own shortly after.
We laid in the bed after, wrapped together, squeezed onto the limited area the mattress provided. No rush to depart or separate. I’d had one-night stands before, but nothing like this. She was special. There was an instant connection the moment her eyes locked with mine. That connection translated into the bedroom. Sex with her wasn’t urgent and greedy. Sex was surrender.
I don’t remember falling asleep. Though I know at some point I must have, since I never saw her dress or leave. I nev er got the chance to tell her how beautiful she was one last time or take a chance to ask for her name in hopes she’d changed her mind about this being a one-time thing.
No, I woke up to an empty cabin. The warmth from her body against mine, gone. The barely perceptible aroma of coconut lip gloss had faded. The only thing to remember her by were a few strands of dark hair on the pillow next to me.
Determined not to feel like I’d lost something, since she was never mine to keep in the first place, I dressed. This time, in my suit. I wanted to look irresistible in case she was waiting for me in the carriage where we met.
Exiting the sleeper compartment, I searched every seat in the carriage. She wasn’t there. I knew she wouldn’t be. It was a feeling that settled in my bones the moment my eyes opened this morning. I didn’t know if she’d gotten off the train at an early morning stop, or switched carriages for the rest of the ride, but I knew I wouldn’t see her again.
The way my heart sank was surprising. It was just a one-night thing. But it wasn’t. Being together last night—our touches lingering and languid—was something I was already craving again. With her. Not with anyone else but her.
Returning to my cabin, I noticed a small white piece of paper tucked into the side of the sliding door jamb. My hea rt leapt into my throat. Was I right? Did she have a change of heart?
Unfolding it, one thing was scribbled inside. No name, no message, no expectations. Only a phone number.
And that’s all I needed.
The possibility.