The Sleeper Train

Chaos ruled over the platform, hundreds of people rushing past each other wheeling luggage and searching for their allotted carriages. High overhead, the intricate metalwork of the roof arched over the concourse, swirling with steam and smoke from the engines.

Martin Johnson looked out over the scene from the grubby window of his control box, set high up on wooden stilts, watching the way that people flowed around the train on platform 9. Turning his eyes away to take a sip of lukewarm coffee, he grimaced and loosened the already sloppy tie around his thick neck and continued to gaze out of the window. Departure was nearing now, and the platform was emptying, people and luggage finding their places on the train. He could pick out Harry Bell, the tall and stick-thin dispatcher, walking slowly down the length of the train, checking the last few tickets and pointing out doors.

On the train, Mary, a slight woman with unusually short and unruly blonde hair, pushed her suitcase under the cramped bunk of her sleeper cabin. Nobody would call it luxurious, but it was clean and smart enough for the single night she would be sleeping in it.

From his bird's nest, Martin checked the scratched face of his watch one last time and heaved himself out of the chair. Two sharp whistle blasts rang out over the concourse, and below, the lanky dispatcher turned to look up at the Martin. The green flag was waved from the bird's nest, and on the platform Harry flourished his own green flag in confirmation. Turning on his heel to look down the length of the train, Harry blew a sequence of short blasts ending in a single long one, and nodded to himself as the train's whistle blew the acknowledgement. Smoke billowed as the driver fed in the power and the train eased into motion, thumping and hissing as it slid out of the ornate station and disappeared into the black night.

Time ticked by and the train thundered through the night. In her cabin, Mary watched the lights of the city pass into the distance to be replaced with flickering blacks and greys of the countryside rolling by. In her hands rested her book, but she didn't have the focus to read it, gazing out of the window with her mind fairly empty, a sinking feeling of unease in the pit of her stomach.

Lucy, a young girl with only a few weeks of experience, wound her way forwards from the dining car. In her hands was a small crate, containing food and drink for the driver and engineers. She swallowed her nerves as best she could, and pushed through the narrow doorway, leaving behind the clean and warm interior of the train and entering the cold, noisy, draught-ridden passage that would take her to the footplate. The smell of heavy oil was strong, and she could feel her feet slipping just a little on the metal plate floor. Pushing through the second door, she was assaulted by the heat and noise of the footplate. The roaring, whooshing noise of the furnace, glowing a hot white-red. Rushing wind. Clattering of metal. Hissing of steam. The driver was one of her favourites, tall and slim, with a ready smile. He was leaning casually over on his small seat, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips as he peered into the night.

"Alright love!" Shouted the thickset engineer, dribbles of sweat tracking cleaner lines down his dirty face.

"I've got your dinner" She shouted back, holding the crate out towards him, still unwilling to step too far into the cramped footplate.

He rested the shovel against one of his legs, reaching out and taking the crate with black hands. "Thanks love."

She smiled at him and nodded her head, watching as he carelessly tossed the crate towards the driver. The clatter of it hitting the metal deck and sliding under the driver's chair lost in the overall din. The driver turned around at that point, smiling that wide smile at her, and nodding his head. "Thanks!" She interpreted the word from the movement of his lips, more than hearing it, before she let herself back through the narrow doorway and retraced her steps.

It was dinnertime, and Mary sat alone at a small table. She picked at her food, without much appetite, the feeling of unease still with her. She knew what was causing it, but didn't want to admit it to herself. She'd even gone so far as to wriggle out of her underwear before leaving her cabin, enjoying the thrill of her secret, but recognising the emptiness of not being able to share it with anyone.

Normally, she liked to look around at her fellow passengers, crafting little stories for them in her mind's eye, but not tonight. Tonight she just sat and stared out the window until the dining car had emptied around her. A young girl in the train's uniform appeared, and gently asked her if she wouldn't mind vacating the carriage as it was closing. Mary apologised distractedly and rose to leave.

"Do you have the time, please?" She asked the server.

"Oh yes," the girl paused to look at a pocket watch, "It's nearly midnight, madam."

"Thank you... sorry for holding you up."

"Oh it's no problem, enjoy the rest of your evening, madam."

Walking back down the now-deserted corridors, Mary paused between carriages. Standing in the vestibule area, and leaning over to look out of the window. A cold draught was seeping through the door, and she could smell the clean air of the night.

The engineer straightened up and stretched his back. "Fuck me," He yelled, tossing the empty wooden crate into the furnace, "that lass is fine piece of ass." The young driver turning to grin at him replied, "I'd certainly not kick her out of bed."

"She likes you, you know."

The driver laughed, "Get away, she's just new and nervous."

"I'm serious, young'un, you could be balls deep in that peachy little cunt of hers if you tried." The engineer mimed a fucking motion, crudely grimacing and pumping his hips.

"Dear god... no wonder your wife left you if that's your happy face!"

The two of them laughed. The engineer still chuckling as he picked up the shovel and went back to heaving more coal into the insatiable furnace.

Further back in the train, whilst the driver and engineer daydreamed lurid thoughts of her naked body, Lucy lay in her cramped bunk, chatting with another one of the servers about their plans for holiday time in a couple of months. Dreaming together of warm weather and no clocks to watch.

Mary gasped, jumping as a hand pressed on the middle of her back. Her thoughts snapping back from the rolling, moon-washed fields to the cold, rattling vestibule.

"I was watching you at dinner." Purred a deep, yet surprisingly soft voice. She opened her mouth, but no words came out, her heart suddenly racing in her chest. She wanted to stand up straight and turn around, but her hands rested immobile on the lip of the door.

She heard a chuckle, and felt a second hand rest on the outside of her thigh, squeezing, bunching the material of her long dress into his fist. He tugged it upward, then let it fall.

"That's right... I know your little secret." The voice purred.

The hands started working in unison, lifting her dress inch by inch. Mary could hear her breath coming quickly, snatching through her throat almost in time with each inch of fabric being lifted. With a final push, cold night air swished around her bare behind, making the pale cheeks tingle.

A warm hand smoothed over the curve of her bum, sliding over the cheeks one by one, curving around her thighs, inside and out. With a little squeak from her lips, she felt his hand gently tug on the silver plug nestling between her cheeks.

"...and what a delightful little secret it is." He chuckled, slowly turning and tugging on the plug that she had inserted before dinner.

It was her naughty secret, her personal thrill. How did he know? Who was he? Why was she just letting him expose her like this? None of this made any sense to her, bent over, being exposed and toyed with by a man she didn't know and couldn't see. She grunted softly as the silver teardrop popped free in his fingers.

"Open wide, my dear."

His body pressed against hers, the rough material of his suit against her bare legs and bum. The silver tip, slippery and still hot from within her touched her lips. It was inside her mouth before her brain caught up. Her lips closed around the narrow stem.

A soft, blunt stiffness pressed against her hole. Easing inside her, opening her hole and sinking inside her body. She felt the material of his trousers press up against her cheeks and he started to thrust. Smooth, slow strokes.

In her bunk, Lucy lay there listening to the soft snoring of the girl in the bunk above. Flat on her front, one hand trapped beneath her played with her clit, fingers rhythmically passing over it, tracing the little bump it made in her panties. Her other hand was down the back of them, a finger putting pressure on her perineum, wriggling a little, pushing and backing off.

The pillow was hot and her breath had made it wet as she screwed her eyes shut, keeping herself quiet as she drew herself closer to climax.

The train shouldered on through the night, crossing the vast plain. The driver staring blearily into the night, the engineer swapping with his relief.

In the vestibule near the dining car, Mary's body shook and bumped. What had started as smooth penetration had become hard, thumping thrusts. The mysterious stranger pumping his cock into her body making the silver plug still clenched in her mouth, between aching lips, clack against her teeth.

The steady rhythm broke, a series of jerky, rushed thrusts slamming against her as he grunted under his breath. She felt his cock slip out of her, and a goopy dribble of cum follow it. His hands left her hips, the bunched material of her dress falling back down of its own accord. She straightened up, feeling the slimy wetness smear her inner thighs as she spat the plug into her hand at last.

Lucy rolled over onto her back, forcing herself to breathe slowly and deeply, her wrist aching from being trapped beneath her. Sweat beaded on her brow and she could feel her cheeks and nose tingling just that little bit, flushed from her orgasm.

Mary shook herself, and crossed to the nearest door - yanking it open to reveal nothing but empty corridor, soft wall lights glowing as before, their tasselled shades rocking slightly with the motion of the train. She walked the short way back to her cabin and closed the door softly behind her, laying down on the narrow bunk and closing her eyes. The knot in her stomach had gone, no tension in her body any more. She knew she should undress and wash before bed, but sleep claimed her long before she could will herself to move.

Up on the footplate, the driver passed his hands over his face, his eyes itching with tiredness. He drained the last of his cold coffee and looked at the brass clock - only three long hours left until he could finally switch with the relief driver and get some sleep. He imagined the skinny little server, bent over in front of him, his hands on her hips... but his tired mind wasn't up to sustaining the illusion.

Time ticked on, the plains slipped past and the train rushed onwards into the dawn.