From Hell to Paradise

Elaine had a good job working as a secretary for a legal firm in London. She travelled to and from work by train each day from her home in Luton, a journey of approximately forty minutes. The journey to work each day was usually made on a four car diesel train that had been built in the late nineteen fifties and were long overdue for retirement. They worked all the suburban services between London and Bedford and were dirty, noisy, smelly and very often late. They had a door to every seating bay on either side of the train which also made them draughty and the whole carriage would vibrate when stationary due to the engines slung underneath. The line was due to be electrified in 1982, but that was still two years hence.

Elaine always caught the same train to work each morning, the 7.54 from Luton due into St Pancras station at 8.32. From there it was just a five minute walk to her office in nearby Grays Inn Road. Coming home, it was a different matter. She could be catching a train anything between five and six o'clock in the evening, sometimes later.

Most evenings, she would catch the 5.36 service home. This was classed as an express service, for although it was formed by two of the elderly four car train sets coupled together, it had fewer stops than most of the other trains on the line and was due back into Luton at 6.15. Normally as she walked into the station she could hear it rattling away above all the other locomotives that were in the station at the same time which normally worked the longer distance services. She walked in one evening to find the train standing in its usual platform, but strangely silent. The gates to the platform had not been opened and people were milling around not quite knowing what to do. She joined the throng and stood for a few minutes. It was just gone half past five and there was still no sign of any movement. A man was in the driving cab nearest to the bufferstops. He appeared to be trying to start the engines, as every now and again they would splutter into life and then slowly die again.

Elaine knew there was another train at 5.45, but that stopped almost everywhere and would not get her home until nearly seven o'clock. There was also another train at 5.55 which could get her home by 6.45. That too had a few extra stops to the 5.36, but if they could get it going, she surmised, she would still be home by half past six. She didn't want to go and get on a different train and possibly watch her usual one go without her or pass her en route.

By twenty to six the decision had been made, not by her, but by the authorities and an announcement was made on the tannoy system.

"Calling Platform 2 and the booking hall, we are sorry to announce that the 17.36 service to Bedford Midland calling at St Albans City, Harpenden, Luton and Bedford Midland has tonight been cancelled due to an engine failure. Passengers for St Albans and Harpenden are advised to catch the 17.55 departure from Platform 4. Passengers for Luton and Bedford should catch the 17.49 departure from Platform 7. Please note that this train will call additionally at Luton this evening. Once again, the 17.36 for Bedford Midland is tonight cancelled due to an engine failure. We apologise for any inconvenience this may cause."

Platform 7 was on the opposite side of the station to where the original train was and Elaine made her way across the station concourse trying to dodge people that were rushing to catch the 5.45 train which was ready to depart, and also those arriving off another train at the next platform. The train she was heading for was one of the longer distance services and was formed of a locomotive hauling nine Inter City carriages. The locomotive which had brought the train in had been uncoupled and was standing with its engine idling waiting to follow it out of the platform. The first two coaches were first class with tables of two and four seats, and then came a first class compartment coach with four compartments, plus the guard's compartment and parcels area, next came the buffet car, followed by five open second class coaches with tables of four on each side of the aisle. The train was already full and there were no seats to be had anywhere and some people were already standing in the doorways. It was Friday night and people were heading home for the weekend. Elaine had reached the second coach behind the locomotive and she stepped in its forward door, excusing herself to people who were already standing there, and walked through the connecting doorway into the first coach.

The time for departure had almost come. The station announcer was still doing her thing.

"Platform 7 for the 17.49 departure to Derby, calling at Luton, Bedford Midland, Wellingborough, Kettering, Market Harborough, Leicester, Loughborough and Derby. Please note this train will be calling additionally at Luton this evening. Platform 7 for the 17.49 to Derby."

A couple of doors slammed further down the platform, then a shrill whistle was blown, followed a few seconds later by a second one. The driver sounded the locomotive horn and the train eased gently away over the point work across the front of the station.

A few more people had joined the train after Elaine and she was now almost squashed against the interconnecting door. Slowly the train was picking up speed, lurching slightly as it passed over track joints and points, and Elaine had to adjust her feet to avoid overbalancing and falling. With a blast on its horn, the train plunged into a short tunnel. One of the door windows was open slightly and the noise was horrendous. She clutched her handbag tightly still trying to keep her balance as the train came out into daylight again and through Kentish Town station, over some more points and into the deep-walled cutting that led to Belsize Tunnel which, at just over a mile long, was the longest on her section of route. Elaine had been making the journey now for over four years and knew almost every inch of the route, the order in which the stations were located, certain landmarks and the tunnel names and their lengths from the name boards alongside. Another loud blast on the horn and the train was enveloped in the gloom of the long tunnel.

The noise was again horrendous, but that wasn't what was bothering her. She was sure that someone was touching her on her bottom. It felt as though someone was rustling her skirt. Elaine looked around as best she could trying to see who it might be. A small, balding man in his late fifties stood next to her. He was holding a copy of that day's London Evening Standard in his right hand, but where was his left one? Was it him? He gave her a sheepish smile and she was all set to slap his face and give him a mouthful when he brought his other hand up to his inside pocket and pulled out a ballpoint pen and started doing the crossword.

The train burst out into the daylight and rounded the curve through West Hampstead station. Still Elaine could feel her skirt being rustled. She tried looking over her other shoulder at a young man in a pin-striped suit, but he was clutching his briefcase handle with both hands. There was a man stood by the door and another lady and gentleman in front of her and people standing in the aisle down the carriage ahead so there was nowhere for her to go. Cricklewood station then followed and the train again lurched over the points leading into the train depot. The rustling briefly ceased, then restarted again. Down the long straight section under the North Circular Road towards Hendon Central sped the train. Elaine could feel the left hand side of her skirt slowly being hitched up, inch by inch. Her mouth went dry, her heart was pounding. By now the train was alongside the M1 motorway, effortlessly speeding past the cars, buses and lorries heading north. Somebody's hand was now rustling her underskirt from under her skirt. Mill Hill Broadway went by in a blur as did the motorway service station at Scratchwood before the train passed under the motorway and the horn again sounded a long blast heralding the entrance to Elstree Tunnel.

The tunnel was about two thirds of a mile long and within half a minute the train was once more in daylight and heading through Elstree and Borehamwood station. About half way through the tunnel, the wandering hand had found its way under her underskirt and was now rubbing against her nylon clad thigh. It was showing no signs of stopping however and was now foraging along the waistband of her tights. Elaine never saw Radlett station she was too concerned with what was happening to her. She was sweating nervously, she had her jacket fastened and her blouse underneath was clinging to her body.

The train driver had applied the brakes for the speed restriction through St Albans and Elaine knew now that barring any unexpected problems she would be back in Luton within ten minutes and free of her assailant. However, a lot can happen in that time. The train picked up speed again heading towards Harpenden and the hand also got bolder as it ventured inside the waistband of her tights and down the inside of her panties, feeling its way towards her most intimate and private area. She felt a couple of fingers brush through her pussy searching out the sacred entrance to her own deep tunnel. Once inside they started boring deeper and deeper, stimulating her juices.

Onwards past Harpenden the wandering fingers were doing their thing. Elaine could feel her whole body tensing, her juices building up inside her until they exploded and she came into her panties. She wanted to scream out in ecstasy but just managed to stifle it to a loud sigh. The small balding man heard her and smiled.

"Are you getting off here?" he asked quite innocently. Elaine felt like saying that she already had, but instead just nodded. The fingers had withdrawn rapidly when she had climaxed and she could now feel her juices saturating her panties and tights. She looked down to her skirt, worried that there might also be tell-tale signs on there. She had decided to wear a beige pleated knee length skirt that morning, but nothing was showing. She also wondered if her underskirt was damp but couldn't get to the toilet due to the number of people in front of her so she decided to wait until she got home as the train had now crossed the Lea Valley and the brakes were being applied for the Luton stop. The train manager's voice could be heard on the tannoy.

"Ladies and Gentleman, in a few minutes time, this train will arrive at Luton station. If you are travelling to Leagrave, Harlington or Flitwick please change here. Also alight here for the coach link to Luton Airport. If you are leaving the train here, please take a few moments to ensure that you have all your personal belongings with you. Thank you for travelling with us this evening and we apologise for the overcrowding on this service which was caused by the cancellation of an earlier service at St Pancras. On leaving Luton, the next stop on this service will be Bedford Midland. This is Luton."

The train was slowing considerably and was entering the station as he finished the announcement. Elaine anxiously looked towards the door, but was still trapped in her space as the other passengers surrounding her also wanted to get off there.

The train slowed to a stop and the doors opened and people started to pour off. A man who had stood by the door for the entire journey was first off, followed by the couple who had stood in front of her, then the small balding man managed to push past, then Elaine herself. She stepped down onto the platform and paused briefly to savour the fresh air, almost causing the businessman in the pin striped suit who had stood behind her to bump into her.

"Careful," he said, "That's a silly place to stop."

"Sorry," said Elaine. As the man hurried off, Elaine caught sight of a regular travelling companion getting out of the first door of the adjacent coach. "Oh, hi Martine, I didn't see you at St Pancras." She said.

"No," said Martine, "I just managed to squeeze on as they shut the doors and blew the whistle. Wasn't it busy tonight?"

"Horrendous," said Elaine. "Do you know, I've had someone feeling me up for the whole journey? I've had hands over my skirt, under my skirt, under my underskirt. You just wouldn't believe what he did to me."

"Oh, darling," said Martine. "Are you all right?"

"I am now I'm off there," said Elaine. "I couldn't see who it was. I nearly slapped one man because I couldn't see his hand; luckily he started doing a crossword in the paper so I knew it couldn't be him but it could be anyone on there." She pointed to the train, now with its doors closed, ready to depart. A whistle sounded, the train manager waved his green flag to the driver who sounded the horn and the train set off. "I bet the bastard's on there, feeling very smug with himself," she said as the back end of the train passed by.

"Not necessarily, they could have got off here and be away by now but at least you're safe," said Martine. "Why not come back to my place and have a drink to calm down. I only live round the corner and I've got a nice bottle of red in the fridge, and you can freshen up."

They were now the only two people left on the platform. Elaine thought for a moment. Martine was right, she was okay, she was safe, and secretly she had actually enjoyed the climax, if not the events that led up to it.

"Okay," she said. "Why not, mum and dad are away and I've got nothing else planned."

They came out of the station and walked along the main road and round into a side street. The first two buildings were a taxi office and a hairdressers shop. Martine went to a small red door between the two and unlocked it. She led Elaine inside and up the stairs. At the top were two doors on either side of a small landing. She went to the right hand one. It wasn't a very big flat, just a small sitting room with a two seater sofa, a small dining table with one chair, a sideboard and a colour TV. A small kitchen led off, next to which was the bathroom and toilet. The door to the bedroom was in the opposite corner.

"It's not ideal," said Martine, taking her coat off as she disappeared into the bedroom. "I'm moving to a new flat next weekend which is much larger and costs almost the same amount as this place. Can you believe it?" She reappeared in her skirt and jumper.

"No," said Elaine. "Mind you, I don't have that problem at the moment as I'm still living at home."

"You should have a place of your own by now," said Martine. "How old are you? Twenty eight isn't it? I'd left home at eighteen, shared a flat with a girl named Pam for five years until she got married last year, then had to move in here as she wanted it for the marital home."

"Yes I know, but flats are very expensive as you say," said Elaine. "And I'm happy as I am. I'm getting married to Neil next year so I need to save all the money I can at the moment."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," said Martine. "Let me get that wine."

"Can I use your bathroom?" said Elaine, still feeling the effects of the earlier events. Martine nodded. Once in the bathroom, Elaine unfastened her jacket and lifted up her skirt and underskirt. She could still see the damp stain on the front of her tights and panties. She found a handkerchief in her handbag and damped it under the tap and tried to dab the sticky mess away. She also managed to pull her tights and panties down enough to freshen up her matted pussy hairs at the same time. She found a small towel and dabbed herself dry before readjusting her clothing. She popped the towel in the laundry basket before re-joining Martine in the main room.

Martine was now sitting on the sofa with a glass of red wine in her hand. The other glass was on the floor in front of the vacant sofa seat. Elaine stooped to pick it up and sat down next to her smoothing down her skirt with her free hand. They chatted about how their careers were progressing at work, boyfriends, and hobbies. They had travelled to work on the same train regularly but rarely had the chance to talk properly as it wasn't always possible for them to actually sit together. After a while, Martine changed the subject to the evening's events.

So what actually happened on the train then?" she asked, sipping her wine.

Elaine recounted the story from the beginning starting with how she had first felt the wandering hand rustling her skirt in Belsize Tunnel through to the climax just past Harpenden. She giggled like a schoolgirl as she recalled nearly slapping the bald man and blushed deeply as she admitted enjoying the climax. Martine sat listening intently saying nothing and until she had finished, then leaned across and planted a small kiss on her cheek.

"You poor thing," she said, finishing her drink. "I would have died if someone had done that to me."

Elaine shrugged her shoulders. She swallowed the rest of her wine.

"Well, I'd better be off," she said. "I've got to feed the cat and myself."

"I could cook you something," said Martine. "I can do a ham omelette with salad. You can stay a bit longer, surely. It's only half past seven."

"Well, I suppose so," said Elaine. "I guess Fluffy can wait a bit longer. Our neighbour is always giving her titbits anyway so she won't harm a bit longer."

"Good, that's settled then," said Martine. "You can come and help me."

They went into the kitchen area which was just big enough to accommodate them both. There was a sink with a draining board on one side, the fridge and a washing machine opposite with a melamine worktop covering each and an electric oven at the end facing the doorway. Two large cupboards were attached to the wall a couple of feet above the worktop. Martine opened one of the cupboards and pulled out two plates and a bowl, then went to the fridge for the ingredients. She handed Elaine four small tomatoes, half a cucumber and a lettuce. The cutlery was in a drawer under the draining board and she handed Elaine a serrated knife to cut them up with. Elaine had gone in first and her exit was now blocked by Martine who had the fridge door open. She started chopping the tomatoes and had her back slightly to Martine. She heard the fridge door close and had just done the second one when she felt her skirt being rustled again. She froze, knife in hand, as she felt her skirt being lifted higher together with her underskirt. She put the knife down and turned to face her assailent who let go of her clothes as she did so.

"You!" she said, smoothing her skirt down. "YOU!" She was almost shouting. "It was you, wasn't it, fingering me, interfering with my clothes, scaring me half to death."

Martine looked back at her. "Yes," she admitted. "It was me."

"But why?" said Elaine. "I don't understand."

"Because I've always admired you, your looks, the way you dress. I've always fancied you, but I've never had the nerve to say anything because I didn't want to upset you, but tonight on the train home, I saw you surrounded by all those people and couldn't resist it. Don't be angry with me, please."

"I thought I was being touched up by some dirty old man," said Elaine, her temper rising. "I was scared stiff I was going to be raped and all the time it was you."

"I'm sorry," said Martine. "Please don't be cross. I....I...I'm in love with you."

"LOVE!" Elaine almost exploded. "I'm engaged to be married!" She flashed her ring at Martine. "I'm getting married next year. I'm not a lesbian." She burst into tears. Martine put her arms around her.

"Come on," she said softly. "Come and sit down."

Elaine pushed her away, but Martine persisted. This time Elaine complied and went and sat back on the sofa. Martine sat next to her.

"Look, I know this has come as a shock to you, but you've nothing to worry about. I'm not a lesbian either, I have a boyfriend called Stewart who I love deeply, but I also like female company. Come on now, dry those tears."