On a Northbound Train in Italy

It was dark outside and I had hours to go before reaching the Swiss border. I boarded the train in Bologna, and there was someone already sleeping in the small compartment that had individual seats that folded down like a bed. There was room for four, but tonight it was just the stranger and me.

It was late and I was tired from traveling already, so I put my bag in the upper rack and folded my seat down. The other person in my compartment was laying down in the window seat, facing away from me. All I could see in the darkness was long hair and I thought it might be a woman. Not that it really mattered. I wanted to lay down and rest.

The train picked up speed leaving Bologna and I laid on my back watching the lights flash by. The person next to me rolled toward me and now, laying on her back, I could clearly see that she was a young woman, probably no older than me. I was in my twenties then, living in Europe for my first real job after college and a short “career” in broadcasting.

I closed my eyes, but my couldn’t sleep, thinking about the person lying inches from me, our chairs practically touching. It would be so easy to reach over and drape an arm around her. The thoughts snowballed in my mind until I finally opened my eyes and studied her slender form as the lights flicked by outside of our window, softy lighting her features. She had very long, dark hair. I noticed the delicate lines of her face and the soft puffiness of her lips. Her top was twisted and pulled up, revealing the smooth flatness of her tummy and the cute little dimple of her belly button. And just below, the top of her jeans were unbuttoned and pulled open. This made me tingle with desire, the thought of an opening, an invitation to explore. I was suddenly and completely taken with the thought of running my fingers over her tummy, maybe licking around her belly button, then slowly pushing my fingertips under the waistline of her jeans.

I undid the top of my own jeans and opened myself up like her. It only seemed fair. She slept so soundly even with the noise of the train. There was no way I could sleep now, but a thought crossed through my mind. If I slipped my hand into my own pants, she would never notice. I rolled onto my side facing her. It would be easy pretending to be asleep in this position.

Watching her through half-opened eyes, the flickering and flashing of the lights passing by outside dancing around us in our little room on the train bound us together somehow. At least that is how it felt to me. My hand found the warmth that was building inside me, fingertips sliding down between my pants and undies. 

I pushed my fingers between my legs, rubbing myself through the soft cotton of my panties. Mmmm, this was something new, a feeling of being a little daring with a stranger and being free and faultless doing it. It felt so good and as the pleasure surged through me, the thought of sharing myself, my sensations, grew. It would be even better if my jeans were more open. Since my back was to the door, no one passing by would see. I tugged the front of my jeans down and apart in the front.

My hand moved more freely with a little adjustment. I tried to be quiet, but the seat cushions were a little squeaky. She stirred, but stayed on her side facing me. From the sound of her breathing, I knew she was asleep. But these questions swirled in my head...should I wake her and let her in on my secret? Should I just finish with a quick orgasm and try to sleep? Would I even be able to talk to her? Why did I assume that she would be attracted to a strange woman? My Italian language skills were pretty basic. But I felt if we tried that we could make a connection. I stayed in this position for as long as I could, softly caressing and teasing myself.

The feelings finally overwhelmed me, driven by the quickening touch of my fingers. I let out a soft moan, half hoping she would hear. It was time to make a decision and the one I made? It was probably the best one, but how can you really know? Without too much noise or commotion, I rolled onto my back, my knees spread, pushed the fabric of my panties to one side and directly rubbed on and around my clit to a shuddering, immense orgasm, stifling the moans and gasps as much as I could. 

When I caught my breath again, I realized that my eyes were closed. It occurred to me that I had lost all awareness of my surroundings for a moment. Had she heard or seen anything? I was suddenly hyper aware of every noise, the smells around me and the motion of the train. The smell of my own juices, very familiar to me, were they so obvious I wondered if that alone would wake her. But she seemed to still be asleep, laying quietly on her back. But her breathing was quieter and I thought, maybe just a wish, that there was a slight smile on her lips.

I never got to talk to her or look into her eyes. She slept until I had to change trains at the Swiss border and the passport agent was at our door. I was already standing with my bag, passport in hand, ready to leave. I turned to look back and saw her profile, highlighted against the lighting of the platforms of the station, as she looked through the window at the people coming and going. As tempting as it was to stay and say something, I couldn’t.