On a business trip last summer, I took an overnight train from Copenhagen to Madrid. I was booked in a second class cabin. I was sharing the cabin with an attractive young couple. When I arrived outside the cabin, I could hear them inside arguing about something. When I opened the door they stopped, but the tension was still there.
As the train got going, we started to chat. They both seemed happier to talk to me than to each other. I learned he was from Norway, she was from Spain. They had been in Oslo visiting his family, then in Copenhagen visiting friends, and were now going back to Spain where they lived.
His name was Christof, tall, fit, standard Scandinavian, seemed like an OK guy.
Her name was Isabelle. She had a hard little body, like a gymnast. She was wearing a sun dress so small that it barely covered the tops of her thighs. She had olive skin and long dark hair and big brown eyes, high cheekbones and full lips that made me think of a feather pillow. She was obviously not wearing bra and her small, perky breasts stood up firm against the thin fabric of the dress, nipples protruding just a little. When she spoke she rolled her "r's" and stretched her vowels in that sexy Spanish way.
The cabin had four bunks, two on top two on bottom. The bottom bunks doubled as seats and had a table between. Each compartment had a door and was completely enclosed from the outer corridor. Isabelle and I were sitting across the table from each other, both of us next to the window. Christof was sitting to her left, closer to the door of the cabin.
From the moment I sat down, I had a feeling, the kind you can't really explain why you have, that she was attracted to me and would have jumped at the chance to try me out.
Christof felt the sparks as well. As we talked, I could see he was getting a little tense. He was touching her too much, the way guys do when they are feeling insecure about their girl.
Eventually Isabelle suggested we play cards. I pulled a bottle of whiskey from my bag to share and we settled into a game.
Over the course of about an hour we played several hands and drank the whiskey. Christof and I were drinking two glasses to her one, but Isabelle was half our size, so I was not surprised to see her starting to get drunk. As she did, her eyes lingered on me a little too long, and her foot occasionally brushed my leg under the table.
It did not take long for the tension between them to resurface. It became obvious when she made the cryptic remark, "You know Christof, this whisky tastes like red wine."
He snapped back, "Drop it. Please."
"And you know this chocolate, it tastes like red wine too. How could that be, do you think?" she said.
"Please drop it. It was your fucking imagination," he said, a little too sharply I thought.
She smirked at him in response and turned her attention back to me. From then on, she made occasional off hand comments about red wine. It obviously made Christof uncomfortable but I was left in the dark.
Around 11PM we finished the bottle and Christof wanted to call it a night. But Isabelle, now clearly drunk, was having none of it. She demanded that he go to the dining car and buy another bottle. With some prodding, he eventually went. She followed him out.
She got back first and had what appeared to be a little ball of black lace in her hand. She flipped her sandals off, stepped up onto the seat across from me, and reached for her bag which was stowed above the bunks. The way she was standing, up on the seat, leaning forward and stretching her arms up to the bag, her dress pulled up, exposing her ass. I could see that she was not wearing panties. I immediately went stiff. She was just climbing down as Christof came back in with the second bottle of whisky.
When his back was turned and gave me a long, lingering look, full of mischief. Clearly, she had intended for me to see.
We cracked the second bottle and Isabelle announced that she wanted to change the game. She wanted to play hi-low, with the lowest card of each hand doing a shot. Christof said that was a stupid idea. She raised an eyebrow and gave him a stern look. Finally he backed down and agreed to play.
She declared herself the dealer, filled all our glasses half full, and we started to play. Christof lost three hands to each one I lost. Curiously, she never lost. After a while Christof was complaining about his luck. He was too drunk to realize that she was dealing him low cards off the bottom of the deck.
As the game progressed, she was more and more brazen with her flirtation, at one point under the table briefly burying her foot in my crotch and stroking my cock with her toes. I was enjoying the attention but did not dare to reciprocate with her boyfriend sitting right beside her.
It took us a little less than an hour to finish the bottle. By the end, Christof was swimming. In contrast, Isabelle seemed almost sober now, which made me wonder if she had ever been quite as drunk as she seemed. She declared that she was ready for sleep, and sauntered out to the bathroom. Christof, swaying, prepared the bottom bunk for their bed.
I went out to use the bathroom. I was waiting at the door when she came out. I have to admit that there were other open bathrooms and I was waiting at that particular door not without some bad intentions. The door opened, she did not seem surprised to find me standing there. She cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow, almost like a challenge.
The cabin beside the bathroom was unoccupied. I took her by the hand, led her inside, and pulled the door shut behind us.
