Meant to Happen

The rhythm of the rails was all they heard...

"Sir? Sir? Sorry for waking you up..."

Tom stirred from his nap and forced his eyes open at the sound of the conductor's voice, turning his head toward him. The train - Amtrak's

Empire Builder

to Chicago - hadn't even left Portland yet, and he had already dozed off; the past two weeks had been intense and he was exhausted.

"Sir, excuse me for waking you, but I have a huge favor to ask. An older couple just boarded and would like to sit together, but the only two seats left are the one next to you and one a few rows back. Would you be willing to switch seats so they can be together?"

Traveling by train was a universe apart from using an airline to reach your destination. Trips took days, not hours, which meant that any negative aspects like bad seats lasted a long time. The outside world was closer and more detailed, and even at 80 miles an hour was an essential part of enjoying the trip. More than anything, passengers were basically living together, sharing their living, eating, and sleeping quarters. There was no point in making the trip miserable for a couple of oldsters, especially since they would be with him for a while. Tom agreed at once.

"Sure," he answered. As he got up to move, he caught sight of the couple standing at the end of the car. The old man shot him a look of gratitude and nodded. Tom nodded back.

"This way, sir, and thanks again," said the conductor, leading Tom to an aisle seat three rows back.

As soon as Tom caught sight of his seatmate, he began to silently thank all the gods he could think of. She was a vision: Large, bright blue eyes sparkled above a broad smile that revealed straight, white teeth; a smattering of light freckles spread across a perfect nose and onto her cheeks. Her narrow face tapered to a strong chin and was topped by a short mop of deliberately unruly brown hair. She was rail thin, but in a way he found terrifically appealing, with small bumps and slight curves in all the right places. She extended her hand in greeting.

"Eileen. Nice to meet you."

"Tom," he replied. Her long thin fingers were smooth and cool. Her eyes were locked on his as he made himself comfortable.

"I guess we're going to be seatmates," she said unnecessarily, though to him her every word was like en elixir.

"Looks like it, yes. How far are you going?"

"La Crosse, Wisconsin," she answered. "You?"

"All the way to Pittsburgh," he told her. "Two and a half days or so from here."

He enjoyed taking the train - it cost a lot less than flying, it was immensely more comfortable, and since he was using up his accrued vacation time before starting his new job as Regional Training Manager for Nike the next month, he had all the had all the time in the world for the trip. He wanted to enjoy the journey as much as the destination, and by being seated next to her he had drawn a great hand for this particular game.

They fell into an easy camaraderie, conversing eagerly and learning as much about each other as they could. They were of an age - he was 41 and she was 39 - and shared interests in the outdoors, music, and photography. She was taking some time off from her job in advertising and public relations and had undertaken this trip to get away from a relationship that was rapidly turning sour, heading to visit her old college roommate in Wisconsin.

He couldn't help but notice how animated she was when she talked, using her hands to emphasize her points and frequently touching his arm. She had led a pretty interesting life, full of travel and new experiences, and she shared them in such a way that he could actually picture himself doing them with her. It was such a departure from his everyday life - she was witty, intelligent, educated, and ambitious in addition to being beautiful. While his second wife had once been pretty, none of the other words applied to her and hadn't for years.

I could listen to her all day,

he mused.

And all night.

He also had much to share. With one failed marriage behind him and another seriously on the rocks, he had yet to meet his one and only, that person he could connect with on every level. He talked enthusiastically about his 13-year-old twin daughters, the loves of his life, and she smiled at his obvious closeness to them. She had a 14-year-old son who was spending the summer with his father in Idaho. His daughters lived with their mother in a suburb of Portland.

He must be a great father,

she thought.

"I feel like I've known you for years," she said, and they both collapsed into laughter at the triteness of that timeworn line. "Oh dear, that was lame," she giggled.

"Yes, it was," he laughed back, "but I get your point. I feel the same way, and you're a very interesting person."

When their laughter subsided, she continued. "Thank you. But seriously, you're very easy to talk to."

"Thanks," he replied. "I love to meet people, and I'm really glad I got to meet you."

Deep in conversation, they completely missed the breathtaking scenery of the Columbia Gorge east of Portland. The sun had set by the time the tracks curved north and the train sped across southern Washington, and both had grown tired as the train approached Spokane late in the evening.

"We'll have plenty of time to talk," she told him. "But I must get my beauty sleep now." He smiled at the thought that she didn't need any help in that department. Like most train travelers, they were planning to sleep in their seats due to the prohibitive cost of a cabin with a bed.

Eileen settled back against the pillow she had wedged between the window and the seat, then propped her left foot across his lap and onto his left leg, bending it at the knee. Her right leg lay flat across his knees. That really left him nowhere to put his right hand except on her thigh, halfway between her knee and her crotch, so that was what he did. When his hand encircled her inner thigh she didn't make any move to resist it, which he found to be rather telling. They settled in quite comfortably like that, and between the late hour and the gentle rocking of the car, they soon dozed off.

He was startled awake by the feeling of someone touching him, and opened his eyes to see that she had laid her left hand on his right and laced her fingers with his. He was still holding her delightfully thin thigh. The car was dark and everyone around them was asleep.

Slowly, her hand began to urge his downward, gently pushing it toward her denim-clad crotch. His heart was beating wildly as he realized her intent, his hand eventually coming to rest smack against her pussy. She pressed it slightly against her and a slight moan escaped her throat. She bent her right leg and squeezed his hand between her thighs, drawing a deep breath. Her eyes were still closed, but was she asleep? Was this part of a dream for her?

He could feel her begin to move her pussy slowly and rhythmically against his hand, the pressure increasing slightly with each movement and her breaths becoming shorter and shallower. He did nothing to interrupt the moment, letting her take this wherever it was going. He could feel the warmth of her box even through the thick fabric. The pace of her movements against his hand quickened, and he glanced quickly around to see if anyone was watching. None were; the car was filled with the deep breathing and light snores of people in dreamland.

By now the pressure of her pussy against his hand was quite strong, and the movement of her pelvis rather insistent. She finally reached a peak and turned her face into the pillow, holding his hand against her tightly as the waves of an orgasm washed over her. He could feel her body pulsing against his hand and smiled.

As was often the case with wet dreams, she awoke and immediately took in what had happened, seeing his hand being held against her pussy and feeling the warm wetness of her orgasm.

"Oh shit, I can't believe I did that," she said softly, pushing his hand away and hiding her face behind both hands. "Don't look at me. You must think I'm a horrible slut."

"I think no such thing," he replied in a soft, caring tone. She moved her hands from her face and looked at him.

"What the fuck did I just do?" she asked in a pleading whisper.

"You were obviously having a rather interesting dream," he said with a smile.

She gave a wry smile in return. "You could say that, yes. Excuse me, but I need to go gather myself." With that, she pushed up from her seat and stepped over him into the aisle and headed for the toilet.

Tom contemplated the events so far while she was gone.

Damn,

he thought.

I would have liked to have been in that dream with her.

He was not as taken aback by what she had done as he would have expected; in fact, given the comfortable nature of their relationship so far, it seemed entirely natural except perhaps for the location.

Eileen returned from the toilet and stopped next to him. "Move to the other seat," she directed, and he complied. She sat next to him and moved in close so she could whisper, her face mere inches from his.

"God, I am so sorry."

"There is no need for apologies," he assured her.

"But we just met."

"Remember what you said - it's like we've known each other forever."

"That's true," she replied. "But still..."

He covered her hand with his as he answered. "It's OK, believe me."

"I have a little secret to tell you," she continued with a sheepish expression.

"Do tell."

"I was dreaming about you." She actually blushed.

"Well, that's interesting."

"Yes, it was," she said with a smile. "In my dream you were the world's greatest lover." He squeezed her hand and she rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. "This all seems so natural."

"Yes, it does," he agreed.

"Hold me," she said, pulling his left arm over her head and around her. The car was becoming chilly, so she grabbed the folded blanket from the seat back and spread it across them, up to her shoulders. She snuggled in close and rested her head on his chest as he leaned back against the wall. Her left hand rested on his thigh.

"This is nice," she said in her whisper.

Nicer than you could possibly imagine,

he thought. It felt incredible to hold someone like her rather than his naysaying, grumpy, rapidly spreading, soon-to-be-ex-wife.

It was well past midnight as they rolled through the panhandle of Idaho and into Montana. The car was barely lit, the windows nothing more than black squares. Her breathing slowed as she relaxed against him, feeling and hearing his heartbeat. They dozed off again to the distant hum of the train's wheels.

A couple of hours later, in the middle of the night, he was again awakened by someone touching him. Under the blanket, her hand had begun a slow movement against him, rubbing his thigh ever so lightly. She felt down to his knee, then up to where it met his hip. Now her hand moved to the inside, stimulating the sensitive skin on his inner thigh even through his jeans. She squeezed his leg as she considered how nice it felt to be held by him. Eventually her hand found its way to the very top of his leg, her fingers brushing lightly against the package within. His immediate stiffening response to her touch brought a smile to her face and she heard him take a sharp breath.

She traced her hand down his leg and back up, this time turning her palm so that when it reached his crotch it gently cradled his entire package. She kept her hand there and began to gently knead his cock and balls, her actions hidden from view under the blanket.

He grew stiff at once and she could feel his hard shaft fill the leg of his pants encasing his upper thigh. She continued to stroke it through the fabric, feeling every detail.

Not the biggest I've ever touched, but more than enough,

she mused with a slight smile. His breathing was shallow and quick.

Holy shit,

he thought to himself.

This is turning into the trip of a lifetime. Un-fucking-believable.

She ran her hand up to his belt and expertly unbuckled it with one hand, then just as expertly unfastened the button at the waist of his jeans. The final touch was to grasp the tab on the fly and pull the zipper down to the bottom, fully opening his pants. She reached in, through the fly of his boxer shorts, and finally felt the skin of his cock under her hand. She grasped it fully and moved her hand along it. Tom let out a low moan.

"Oh my, you're an excitable boy, aren't you?" she asked slyly. She carefully pulled his now-rigid shaft around until she could bring it out of the open fly. If not for the blanket, he would have been fully exposed. Her hand rubbed its entire length slowly.

Eileen stole a quick glance to her left to see if anyone else was awake, and satisfied they were all sound asleep, she released his cock and used her hand to pull the blanket up enough to slip her head under it. Tom pulled it up higher so she was completely covered.

Grasping his shaft again, she immediately took its full length into her mouth. The warm wetness, the friction of her lips around him, and the danger of discovery excited him to new levels and he felt like he could explode at any minute. Her head and hand moved together up and down his completely erect member, her tongue circling the head when she reached the top. She could tell by his size and his breathing that he was close to cumming and her pace increased.

Make this last, buddy. Make this last,

he thought to himself, but nature took its inevitable course and he felt his balls begin to boil with an impending orgasm. His right hand held the blanket and his left rested on her back as she continued her expert ministrations, moving faster and faster within her woolen cave.

He finally lost the ability to stifle himself and surrendered to his final release. She felt his body tense and his balls begin to pulse and stopped moving her head, holding her lips around the head of his cock as he fired his hit load of love juice into her mouth, each spasm shaking him to his core. Again and again he spurted, filling her mouth almost to overflowing.

His orgasm finally subsided and she felt him begin to soften, so she removed her mouth from him and swallowed every drop of what he had given her. She slowly raised her head from under the blanket and looked up at his face, which was a mask of intense pleasure mixed with wonder. He opened his eyes at that moment, and using his right hand, lifted her chin toward him. They kissed then, a soft, lingering kiss fraught with meaning and depth. When their lips parted she smiled up at him, then closed her eyes and rested her head back on his chest. He used his free hand to restore his decency and settled back against the window. All was right with the world.

***************************************

The next day was spent crossing Montana and rolling into North Dakota. After freshening up and donning clean clothes in the toilet and dressing area, they spent the entire time wrapped up in each other, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the world. Their eye locked and their hands touched as they poured out the rest of their lives to each other, baring their souls to further cement the bond that had formed between them. They were as

simpatico

as two people could be and felt like energetic teenagers again.

He learned that her current relationship had not been her first bad one; the men in her life seemed to have shared the common trait of being complete assholes. "You're so different from everyone I've known," she told him. He took it as the compliment it was intended to be.

He filled her in on his own bad luck with relationships, including his frigid first wife and the huge mistake he had made when he married his second and got her fat, lazy kids in the bargain. "I was lonely the first time, and way too horny the second," he told her, bringing a smile to her face. "That's what I get for thinking with the wrong head, I guess." She laughed out loud at that.

The crew on the train had changed somewhere along the line, and the new conductor was a heavyset female of indeterminate age. Stopping at their seats to check on them, she asked how long they had been married.

"Oh, we're not married," Eileen informed her. "We just met on the train yesterday."

"You have got to be kidding me!" the conductor said. "You two are so perfect together, like cake and ice cream. I could have sworn you were a couple." Tom and Eileen exchanged a meaningful glance at that and smiled at each other.

They wandered the train from end to end, exploring the rolling facility and spending some time in the observation car, holding hands while quietly watching the world pass by. The only time they weren't together was when on or the other had to use the sanitary facilities. They enjoyed a nice supper in the dining car, then settled back into their seats for the evening as the train rolled across the featureless landscape. They talked quietly, their heads close, as their fellow passengers drifted off into slumber and the car darkened once again.

"Come with me," she whispered to him. "I want to show you something I discovered." They left their seats and she led him to the car containing the sleeping compartments.

"These usually cost a couple of hundred dollars extra per night," she explained, "but that new conductor took a liking to us and gave me the key to an empty one." She produced a card from her pocket and slipped it into the lock. Quietly opening the door, she entered the compartment and pulled him in behind her, then turned the privacy lock.

"Nice, huh?" she asked, surveying the small room. There were benches on either side that slid toward the center, forming a wide bed for nighttime use.

"Oh yeah, this is great," he agreed.

"I thought we could use a little privacy," she told him, turning towards him and throwing her arms around his neck, pulling his face to hers for a long, deep, passionate kiss. Her body was plastered against his from shoulder to toe, and his arms encircled her narrow frame. She moaned slightly from deep in her throat as her tongue explored his mouth hungrily, her small but firm breasts pressing into his chest.

His hands explored the feel of this amazing woman, her narrow waist and hips and her small but shapely and tightly muscled ass. She loved the feel of his hands on her, feeling for the first time in years that she was with someone who cared more about her than he did about himself. She felt safe.

He loved the taste of her and the sensation of her body against his, her lips and her tongue and everything else. He moved his mouth off of hers to kiss her gently on the neck below her ear and run his tongue around the lobe of her petite ear. She shivered with delight. He took a half step back.

"You're amazing," he told her huskily.

She blushed at the compliment. "Thank you, but time's a-wasting..." She reached for his chest and began to unbutton his shirt. He reached under her arms and did the same for her. They were both anxious to take this to the next level and quickly disrobed each other. When they were both naked, Tom paused for a moment to take in the wondrous sight of her.

Although very thin, it was because her frame was small. She wasn't emaciated like so many thin people; she just didn't have much body fat. Her shoulders were squared; her delightful breasts were like a pair of shallow champagne glasses on her chest, with pale skin and smallish, light pink nipples that were pierced with discrete silver studs; her small waist curved beautifully into narrow hips, which were a particular liking of his. Below her flat abdomen she sported the narrowest strip of pubes, like a directional sign pointing to what lay below. Her legs were proportional to the rest of her, looking longer for their lack of bulk. He'd been with his share of attractive women in his 41 years, but at this time and in this place Eileen was a vision. Nothing and no one else mattered.

Damn, she's hot,

he thought to himself.