Train Vacation – Part 2: The Dining Car

Read Part 1 of the story here.

Note for readers: Throughout this series, blocks of plain text indicate Al’s point of view, while italics indicate Jen’s perspective. 

Train Vacation – Part 2: The Dining Car

Up on the high wind-swept plain, a lone stallion reared up and pawed at the air with his front hooves. The stiff breeze ruffling through his thick mane brought with it a scent from the lowlands that drove him wild. His nostrils quivered as he lifted his head high and sniffed. Somewhere down there a mare longed for him. She stood there, waiting for him to come. Waiting for him to fill her with his animalistic urges.

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Yesterday, I flew to the city where the train started the vacation journey, where I was to play the role of an escort to my client—my wife, Jen. I flew in on the jet provided by the company where Jen works. During the flight, my client inducted me into the Mile-High Club.

This morning, per the instructions received from the escort service, I was at breakfast in the train’s dining car. I saw my client enter at the far end. Pleasant. Friendly. Joie de vivre in her smile.

I thought of the stallion I had seen on a wind-swept mountain ridge several weeks ago. He had galloped down the slopes and joined himself to the waiting mare. The not-so-sweet co-ed coming down the aisle wanted what the mare wanted. Unlike the mare, though, she wasn’t patiently waiting for the stallion to come to her.

Her role: temptress. Her target: the lone gentleman eating his breakfast at the far end of the dining car. Her goal: Seduce him.

Her jeans were the kind with holes in them when they’re still on the sales racks. They were held up with some twine string. An untucked, plain cotton shirt—a size too small—struggled valiantly to restrain its captives. One button was missing. Two others on either side of the missing one were about to lose their battles. My eyes focused on generous amounts of bared flesh.

She came to my table. She stooped to retrieve something that fell to the floor. My eyes leered at her cleavage. An attentive erection rapidly exceeded the diameter of my breakfast bratwurst, or bangers as they’re known in some parts. Her eyes alternately focused on mine, on the sausage dangling precariously at the end of my fork, and on my hand shifting things around “down south.”

She wanted my sausage. I was happy to have her eat it.

My eyes lingered on the lone hickey visible on her right breast. “Cryin’ shame he didn’t bite the other one too, to balance out the first one. Symmetry and all.”

“Didn’t take you long to get to the point, did it. If you’re not careful, you’ll wake them up.”

“Have they been naughty? I can beat them with my sausage.” I returned my fork to the plate.

“Good morning to you too.” She pitched her accusatory voice in the register of an offended country girl. “Ah seem to have dropped mah pearls before swine.” The car suddenly seemed quiet, after that not-very-quiet exchange. Perhaps other passengers in the car had overheard and were waiting breathlessly to see what might erupt next. “Ware ahm from, a man introduces hisself ‘fore greetin’ a girl in such a course mannah. Don’t matter that I want you to beat me with your sausage. Just not the way you mentioned.”

Yep, she wanted to be offended alright.

“I’m Alistair.”

“Mornin.” She paused. “You remind me of someone.” Another pause. “Overnight flight to Belgium. He had the audacity to ask me my age.” She appeared lost in thought. “Then he started to play with… never mind. I’m Jennifer.” She slapped me upside my right cheek.

“What was that for?”

“For commentin’ on my bosom afore we was properly introduced.” Hmm. The timing, not the content, precipitated the offense.

Her eyes returned to the fork again. “My cat would enjoy your sausage.”

“I apologize. I’m sure your pussy will find it most satisfactory.”

“‘Whale hale.’ Apology ‘cepted. Now, ah would ’preciate very much if you would he’p me with ma necklace.”

I stood next to her at the table to help her, as requested. When I finished, she threw her arms around me and planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I struggled valiantly to maintain my balance. Somehow my right hand found warm skin under the shirt.

She slapped my backside.

“What was that for?” I was perplexed.

“Foreplay.”

I stared sharply at her. And at the phallic pendant dangling on the end of the chain, nestled nicely in, ah, well a place I’d like to dangle my own phallic object.

“Foreplay?” I echoed, still slightly confused.

“Whale, now that we’re acquainted, the polite thing would be for the gentleman to inform the lady of his intentions for the remainder of her work day.” There was a sweet, juvenile lilt to her voice, accompanied by playful smile and shy wink.

“My intentions?”

“You did ask for an escort, right?”

“Why do you think it was me?” So now she’s the escort and I’m the client? Like I said, it can be a challenge to keep up with her in these games.

“Ah saw you undressing me eva since ah entered this car.” She paused to tug at her shirt. “And your hand wanders to naughty places as much as your eyes.”

“Therefore, you concluded we were engaged in foreplay.”

“Hale! After the salute on my leg when ah kissed you? Ah watched you too, ’specially how it seems your hand commenced to scratch below your belt. Dare say ‘tweren’t ’cuz your balls itch.” She pawed between my legs. “Figured as much. Nat’rally, I concluded your desire for a companion was for something other than a bridge partner.” She twisted slightly to reveal a bodacious view of her bosom. “What’s your fantasy? I ’spect it’s more than hickeys.”

I tried to stammer out an answer. She slapped my face again. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“Ripping off the shirt?”

“Best do more than that.”

“Cooking some sausage between them?”

“And are you up for extinguishing any fire you start?”

“I’m sure you know how to bring things to a wet conclusion.”

“Ahm sure it will be a climatic event. Say goodbye then. Be a bad boy and slap my ass as I pass by.”

“Slap your ass?”

“Foreplay. Remember? And so is this.” She brought her hand up to my crotch again. “Been awhile has it? Next time—I assume there will be a next time—next time it better not be my hand that brings things to a premature end. I’ll send a text when I require your services. Meantime, you can dream about these.” She tugged at the shirt again, the spent buttons having lost their battle. “Keep your sausage warm.”

To be continued in Part 3.

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Here are some related roleplay stories!

Nurse Jen (August 23, 2022)
Conduct Unbecoming (December 8, 2022)
Overnight Service (January 10, 2023)
Playing with Matches (February 26, 2024)
Letting Go of the Reins (May 11, 2024)