Strangers on a Train

For the avoidance of doubt any characters engaging in sexual activity are over 18. This is set in 1980, so no internet, no smartphones so a better chance of getting away with things. On the minus side bad luck being a woman known to be sexually active and not interested in a long-term relationship. Perhaps some things never change. I would be grateful for comments including on what category this falls into. My aim is not to humiliate my protagonist, but she may make mistakes which require her to improvise.

There is more backstory, but that will be for future chapters. This is a pre aids story so some risks are taken which would not be taken a few years afterwards.

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Rebecca pulled a face as she boarded the train back to Birmingham. She was worrying for the umpteenth time about her future. She was nineteen years old, bright, intelligent, and motivated. She also suspected that she had a high libido. Unfortunately, she was a woman living in Birmingham in 1980. It had been made quite clear to her that a woman who enjoyed herself was a slag unless she only enjoyed herself with one man with whom she was in a relationship. Even then you had to be careful. If you broke it off with him, then the details of what you had allowed him to do to you would be spread around the whole school.

In theory she should be on top of the world. She had just been accepted into one of the two most prestigious universities in the UK. She had applied to an all-girls college to do history and they had offered her a place. While technically it was conditional, she only needed to get two E grades next summer to be admitted. She would of course go for four As and the special level in history, but still it was a relief knowing that a bad set of questions could not ruin her brilliant career.

However, the system allowed other colleges at the university to trump this offer by offering a scholarship. In most cases this was only worth sixty ponds a year. Two other colleges had interviewed her and because she could not resist showing off she had done well enough to be awarded a scholarship. The two tutors had asked her to wait outside and then brought her in and told her the good news. They had even given her a couple of congratulatory glasses of sherry before directing her to the station. She grabbed a glass of wine at a winebar on the way to the station and thought about the implications.

Unfortunately, the scholarship was to a college which was 80% public school and seventy-five per cent male. It had only started accepting women three years ago. Even those women mostly came from Cheltenham Ladies College or similar institutions While she could now drop the Brummy accent at will, she knew that a few giveaways remained. For example, she had to avoid words ending in ging and grass would sometimes rhyme with ass rather than arse.

Anyway, the majority of her likely fellow undergraduates came from families who were well off and would give their children an allowance on top of meeting the shortfall in the maintenance grant. They would be used to eating out in restaurants and would know what wines to drink. She knew enough that Blue Nun was incurably naff, and that Mateus Rose made a better candle holder than a wine, but that was about it.

Crucially she lacked money. Her father had made it clear that he would not top up her maintenance grant and that she needed to earn the money for herself. He had suggested that her best bet was to earn it by walking round Balsall Heath at night in a short skirt and fishnet stockings offering to help motorists. He had repeatedly told her that he did not believe that she was his daughter and certainly she did not look like him. She did look like her mother and that did not help.

Fucking dad. When he had remarried he had taken his new wife's surname mainly in order to get dosh from Dawn's grandfather who was worried about the family name dying out but partly to spite Rebecca. Theresa Amanda Rebecca Adams was a bit of a mouthful but was still better than having the surname Travers at the end of the given names. As he had told her when she still lived with him and Dawn, Tart by name Tart by nature.

She reckoned that she needed to find at least £1,500 extra a year to even stand the remotest chance of fitting in at the posh college and that she would need to spend at least two hundred more to upgrade her wardrobe. She somehow felt that BHS knickers and polyester blouses would not be a good fashion choice. Even M&S merely got her a C in the fashion grade.

She started doing the calculations in her exercise book and tried to work out how she could earn the money. She could start working in pubs two or three evenings a week and take a Saturday job again. She had given her old one up when she had decided to apply to Oxford to concentrate on her studies. Still, she had now exhausted her savings and she doubted that she could clear £20 a week on top of simply living. Jobs were scarce as the recession had hit the West Midlands badly and she was not to most employers' tastes. Over educated and bolshy was the response of her last boss when she had indicated that she did not intend to go into the storeroom with him. She sighed. She may not be able to be so fussy in the future. What's the going rate here? Fifty pence an hour with a free grope of your tits thrown in. Time to head for the station.

The train was almost empty, and she had the end carriage to herself. It was an old-fashioned carriage with six individual compartments with four seats facing each other in each compartment and a corridor running alongside. There were blinds which could be drawn down to give privacy. She laughed to herself. She knew what she would think was happening if they were closed. There were not many of these carriages left and fewer every week as they got used for the football specials.

To amuse herself she gave thought to her father's suggestion. Of course, she could not go on in the game in Brum. Too much danger of being recognised or arrested and if she wanted to have a brilliant career a police record for prostitution or even her school mates knowing what a slag she was would be unlikely to be helpful.

She daydreamed about situations where the men she would deal with had as much fear of publicity as she did or where she would never have to fear meeting them again.

She was wearing her best white M&S blouse. She was wearing a knee length black skirt with stockings, not tights on. it had buttons up one side which could be undone. She had tried to dress the part of a confident young woman and it seemed to have worked with her interviewers. Unlike 90% of her contemporaries, she disliked the idea that for leisure clothing one wore jeans as a matter of course. It was too much like another uniform. She did not want to be like everyone else.

She pulled her blouse so that more of it was beneath her skirt and tightened the belt so as to emphasise her breasts. She also undid a couple of buttons so the view would be improved. She patted her blonde wig which she had put on for the interview. For some reason men found blondes sexier than brown haired girls and she liked to be thought attractive when it suited her. In this case she had half hoped that they would think she was a bimbo and pass on her. She hoped her tutors would not be too shocked next year when she turned up with her natural hair colour.

At Banbury a man aged around his mid thirties got on the train and opened the compartment door. "Is anyone sitting here, miss" he said with an American accent. She said no and invited him into the compartment.

He sat opposite her and introduced himself as Rick Pickering from New York. She decided to play with her fantasy and leant forward and replied that she was called Mandy. Amanda was one of her given names which she did not normally use after teasing at school. Too many semi-rhyming phrases and that bitch Joanna had nearly made one stick.

Rick was apparently on a business trip round Europe for the family firm and was next flying to Dublin before returning to the states to get married. She said that she was a student from London visiting friends in Wolverhampton. She put on her best Sue Lawley accent which he seemed to find delightful.

After five minutes chatting she took advantage of him making a joke to lie back in her seat as she pretended to laugh and crossed her legs so that her skirt rode up her thighs. She saw his eyes dart down and then a cunning look passed over his face. He asked if students in the UK needed to work at diners and restaurants to afford the fees. She decided against explaining the UK system to him and said yes, of course.

He asked what she did, and she pretended to blush.

He asked, "Go on, tell me what you do."

She said, "I do a little lingerie modelling and dance in clubs at lunchtimes." She winked at him, "Very high class, very discrete. Better paid than bar work and leaves more time for study. Cigar smoke is better than cigarette smoke" She touched her hair, "You may have noticed the wig. I wear it for my sets. Did one in Reading this lunchtime. Paid for my trip." She winked and said, "No one could spot the hair colour difference so you can tell it was high class."

Rick seemed fascinated as she explained that "I prefer the modelling work as most of the photographers are gay. They like the feel of the clothes more than my breasts. Also, there is no smoking in the studio, and you don't have to worry about drunks."

"I thought you said they were high class joints."

"The clubs are but some of the clients are not. They assume that because one dances in one's underwear one is up for slap and tickle in the gent's toilets."

He looked amused, "Slap and tickle?"

"I think you know what I mean." She did her Audrey Hepburn impression, "I'm a good gal, I am."

He laughed "Is your stage name Eliza?"

"No, but I Doolittle else than dance."

He smiled at that and gave a little clap. "So, what's the little else? Do you take your bra off for special clients?"

She smiled at him, "Only backstage by myself. Seriously, it's a small world. I was warned when I started that once you do something extra for one client or at one venue, they all expect it and the price you get goes down. It is a slippery slope from being a dancer to being a stripper and then a whore."

"Aren't you ever tempted to be a bad girl?"

"Some of the clients are attractive men looking for a little variety. Wear good suits, have looked after their stomachs, a charming smile. Of course, I have thought about having a good time, but they would only boast about it afterwards."

"What about if you were ships in the night, he was leaving the country the day after and was only here on holiday."

"Perhaps I might consider it if it was safe. Still, he would know where I had worked and some of other customers and might boast on a transatlantic call about it."

She noticed that the man had crossed his legs and loosened his tie. "How about two strangers on a train meeting for a brief hour."

She laughed "Too many potential spectators."

"I see your point" The man looked quickly at the blinds and seemed to dismiss the thought.

Just before Leamington Spa the ticket collector came round and punched their tickets. She exaggerated the posh bird accent for him for Rick's amusement. The collector warned them that it was last orders at the buffet car and that there might be some delays on the track ahead.

No one hjpined then at Leamington Spa and Rick said to her, "I'm going to get a coke and a mars bar. Would you like me to get you anything? Don't worry, I will have no use for English money after today so I may as well spend it on a beautiful girl." He flashed his wallet and she saw a large wodge of notes.

She played along and said, "In that case, can I have a coke and a flake. I don't like saying no to men who want to treat me well."

She paused and the sherrys and the glass of wine brought out her flirtatious side, "Do you mind if I pull the blinds down on the windows into the corridor. The afternoon winter sun is getting in my eyes."

He smiled and said, "Of course not."

After he had left, she pulled down all the blinds. She then checked the corridor and no one else was sitting in the other compartments in the carriage. This may have been because it was a non-smoking carriage.

She knew that there was about thirty-five minutes before the station for Birmingham airport and Coventry was only twenty minutes away, but both were enjoying themselves even though it would lead nowhere except a snog.

She unbuttoned another button and undid some of the buttons on the side of her skirt so that her stocking tops could be glimpsed.

Just then the train came to a shuddering halt. A couple of minutes he returned and sat down next to her. He put his hand on her knee and said, "Miss Mandy, while currently our winged chariot is not hurrying, we cannot rely on that remaining the case. We both know what we want and while I can tell you are not a professional, you look like you enjoy having a good time. You will never see me again and I don't know your full name or where you worked this lunchtime. No need to worry about your reputation." He took out a five-pound note and said, "This in return for allowing me to unbutton your blouse and squeeze your breasts."

Rebecca was so shocked that he was quoting Andrew Marvell at her that she said "Yes." She would have allowed him to touch her up for free, but she would not turn down a free fiver.

Rick handed her the money and then lifted her on to his lap and undid her blouse slowly. He then started kneading her breasts and playing with her nipples. After a couple of minutes, the train showed no sign of moving and he produced another five-pound note in exchange for her bra being removed and him been allowed to suck her breasts. For various reasons, Rebecca had not indulged in any sexual activity for a month, and she found it stimulating. She pulled his head closer into her breasts and sighed loudly. Facing him she kneeled on the seat on either side of his legs. He put his hands up his skirt and snapped the straps of her stockings. He whispered to her, "Thank God for an old-fashioned girl. I hate tights."

Suddenly he seemed to hear something, started up, checked his clothing, and opened the door of the compartment. She heard a muffled conversation outside and then he reappeared. "Apparently, we are likely to be stuck here for at least another forty minutes. The guard has promised not to come back until Coventry and will lock the corridor doors until then for £5."

Rebecca knew that this was now going to go farther than she had expected. She nodded her head though. She was stimulated by the thought of being paid to give him pleasure and the money would come in handy. It also seemed as though it could be risk free. What was that phrase the general studies science teacher used, this could be proof of concept.

Rick decided not to immediately go for broke. He kissed her and brought her right hand into his lap. "Ten pounds for a hand job, another ten if you French kiss me while doing so. There is also a another five pounds as a tip for wearing stockings. At this rate you will lose your amateur status. Perhaps you can join the semi-pros."

Rebecca decided to adopt the Mandy personality and giggled as he handed her the money. She slipped off her blouse and folded it up on the opposite seat. For the next five minutes he tongued her and squeezed while she worked away at him with her right hand. His breathing also became heavier, but he stopped her before he came.

He said "Slip out of that skirt. You don't want to get stains on it." She obeyed and was left in stockings, garter, and her lucky black knickers. He lay flat on the seat with her on one side and as she stroked and gently squeezed his penis he played with her breasts. After five minutes he sought to lower her head towards his penis.

She sought to distract him by unwrapping her flake, stretching her back which pushed her breasts forwards, She raised her neck and slowly inserted the chocolate bar into her mouth. She hummed the tune from the advert to herself as she proceeded to deep throat it in the same way as the models did. How on earth they got that past the censors and broadcast as an ad during children's programmes mystified her. She supposed at the age of ten she had simply accepted that the woman was enjoying her chocolate bar. She giggled to herself.

Rick checked his wallet and said, "Thirty pounds for doing that to me for five minutes. Ten pounds more if you can fit it all in." He moved so that he was sitting upright on the seat, and she knelt in front of him.

To her relief the man had obviously been hoping to get lucky and must have washed himself in the train toilet while going to the buffet. She was less practised at this but had been told that often the men got themselves off solely on the idea that a woman was doing this to them. It did not feel like he was trying to humiliate her which was a relief and allowed her to get into the swing of things. Rick was grunting and saying things like "Go on girl, you're great. You're the best. Swallow it all."

Fortunately, his penis was only around average size (not that she had that much experience in measuring them) and so having practised on the flake she got it all in her mouth and earned the bonus. She only needed her right hand to keep the position and moved her left hand down and started playing with herself. Still the train did not move. She felt that he was almost ready to ejaculate this and realised that they had not discussed how they were going to manage this. In particular would she get a bonus for swallowing.

He stopped first and said, "This has been my best train journey ever and I look forward in twenty years' time telling my then eighteen-year-old son how his dad made love to a beautiful English rose in black stockings in a train."

He checked his wallet and produced two fifty-pound notes and a trojan, "I am assuming that you would prefer to take precautions. Is this enough money to indulge my fantasies?"

Rebecca decided that she needed the release as much as he did and liked the idea of being boasted about to the man's children. She nodded and added the notes to her purse and put it in her case. She took off her knickers, but the man told her to keep the stockings on and added a tenner in case they got ripped.

He put on the contraceptive and looked around the carriage. He decided to sit down in the middle of one of the seats. He pulled her to him so that her breasts were at mouth level and her knees were on either side of his legs. He started to finger her as he sucked, she moaned partly to increase his pleasure and partly because she was turned on herself.

He then lifted her up by the upper thighs, backed her against the window and pushed into her. She held on tight to his neck and wrapped her legs around him as he fucked her in mid-air. She had never done it this way before, and she decided that she might get to like it.

After a couple of minutes, the train started to move again, but they were too involved to stop. She reckoned that they had fifteen minutes to play with. He said, "On your knees -- that works best for me."

She moved down on to the floor and spread her legs wide. He grabbed her hips and thrust himself into to her. He started to fuck her as if they were dogs. She orgasmed quickly and noted the position for future reference. She shouted, "Fuck me harder, spank your randy Mandy."

He laughed and did as he was asked, perhaps a little too cautiously at first, but he soon got into the spirit of it. She shouted, "I'm a bad girl, I am. Fuck your Eliza Doitall."

At that point he clearly ejaculated into the condom. They lay on the floor and laughed.