delicious-smelling flesh. She felt the melting of her body, and the pleasure of an inner warmth that she had never experienced before.
They stood locked in this embrace for a few moments, their hearts pounding against each other, the colonel’s breath and her own coming heavily through their nostrils. She felt the colonel’s hands, his clean white hands, roam over her body, playing with her erect nipples through her tight brassiere. Then she felt him reach under her dress and roll down the elastic of her panties, stepping backward so that she could kick them free, which she did instinctively. She felt her nakedness against the length of his trousers; then he stepped back again and fumbled with his pants. With her eyes closed, she felt him return to the standing embrace, his mouth against her ear, breathing heavily, while his fingers reached downward, searching for and finding what she had always termed her secret place. Then she felt herself being guided so that her back was buttressed against the ladder to the upper bunk; his body arched and somehow he was entering her secret place, and suddenly she screamed as a sharp pain ripped through her, filling her body with a kind of hysteria.
He ignored her protest, and pressed his lips against hers as if to smother a scream, his tongue reaching deep into her mouth. Without mercy he battered her body in a staccato motion, like the relentless thrust of pistons on the wheels of the train, and then his breath was coming in deep gasps, until there was a final choking sound and the shiver of his pleasure.
Then he was quiet. Her back ached and her thighs burned with the friction of the material of his pants. He slipped from her body and she felt a wetness in her crotch which offended her sense of cleanliness. He said nothing and before she could raise her aching body to a fully standing position he had moved into the adjoining washroom, leaving her alone in the darkened compartment.
She smoothed her dress down and sought in the semidarkness for her panties. She picked them up and put them in the pocket of her smock, looked around the compartment briefly, force of habit requiring that she check its condition. The bunks, of course, were in perfect order, since they had not used them. It crossed her mind that perhaps some drops of blood or moisture had fallen on the rug, but she could explore that later.
She felt a sharp pain inside her as she moved toward the door and opened it a crack. The passageway was, thankfully, empty. Then she let herself out, hearing behind her the rush of water in the sink. He was a clean fastidious man, she remembered saying to herself as she moved quickly to her own quarters. She washed herself carefully, and then her panties, which she hung across a string to dry, and climbed wearily up to her bunk, knowing that she was neglecting her duties, but feeling weak and somewhat shaky from her new experience.
But she had no frame of reference, only her expectations. He is my first love, she told herself, and blamed her disappointment on the tight quarters and their need for secrecy. And yet, the experience conditioned her for all future couplings, which always took place in similar circumstances—in darkened compartments, with fastidious men who barely spoke. She learned how to position herself against the lower bunk so as to avoid the bruises of her first experience, and she boasted to herself that she had never spent more than twenty minutes in a man’s embrace. To disappear any longer would be unfair to the other passengers and might be noticed by her superiors. To lose her job, to have to leave the railroad, was unthinkable.
The railroad made her important. Aside from her general duties, she was often singled out for special assignments by the dour, official-looking men who sometimes rode the trains asking for specific information about certain passengers. She had learned that zealousness in those assignments would always earn her special commendations
They stood locked in this embrace for a few moments, their hearts pounding against each other, the colonel’s breath and her own coming heavily through their nostrils. She felt the colonel’s hands, his clean white hands, roam over her body, playing with her erect nipples through her tight brassiere. Then she felt him reach under her dress and roll down the elastic of her panties, stepping backward so that she could kick them free, which she did instinctively. She felt her nakedness against the length of his trousers; then he stepped back again and fumbled with his pants. With her eyes closed, she felt him return to the standing embrace, his mouth against her ear, breathing heavily, while his fingers reached downward, searching for and finding what she had always termed her secret place. Then she felt herself being guided so that her back was buttressed against the ladder to the upper bunk; his body arched and somehow he was entering her secret place, and suddenly she screamed as a sharp pain ripped through her, filling her body with a kind of hysteria.
He ignored her protest, and pressed his lips against hers as if to smother a scream, his tongue reaching deep into her mouth. Without mercy he battered her body in a staccato motion, like the relentless thrust of pistons on the wheels of the train, and then his breath was coming in deep gasps, until there was a final choking sound and the shiver of his pleasure.
Then he was quiet. Her back ached and her thighs burned with the friction of the material of his pants. He slipped from her body and she felt a wetness in her crotch which offended her sense of cleanliness. He said nothing and before she could raise her aching body to a fully standing position he had moved into the adjoining washroom, leaving her alone in the darkened compartment.
She smoothed her dress down and sought in the semidarkness for her panties. She picked them up and put them in the pocket of her smock, looked around the compartment briefly, force of habit requiring that she check its condition. The bunks, of course, were in perfect order, since they had not used them. It crossed her mind that perhaps some drops of blood or moisture had fallen on the rug, but she could explore that later.
She felt a sharp pain inside her as she moved toward the door and opened it a crack. The passageway was, thankfully, empty. Then she let herself out, hearing behind her the rush of water in the sink. He was a clean fastidious man, she remembered saying to herself as she moved quickly to her own quarters. She washed herself carefully, and then her panties, which she hung across a string to dry, and climbed wearily up to her bunk, knowing that she was neglecting her duties, but feeling weak and somewhat shaky from her new experience.
But she had no frame of reference, only her expectations. He is my first love, she told herself, and blamed her disappointment on the tight quarters and their need for secrecy. And yet, the experience conditioned her for all future couplings, which always took place in similar circumstances—in darkened compartments, with fastidious men who barely spoke. She learned how to position herself against the lower bunk so as to avoid the bruises of her first experience, and she boasted to herself that she had never spent more than twenty minutes in a man’s embrace. To disappear any longer would be unfair to the other passengers and might be noticed by her superiors. To lose her job, to have to leave the railroad, was unthinkable.
The railroad made her important. Aside from her general duties, she was often singled out for special assignments by the dour, official-looking men who sometimes rode the trains asking for specific information about certain passengers. She had learned that zealousness in those assignments would always earn her special commendations
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