Train Encounter Ch. 02

Peter had never been so glad to be carrying an extra shirt in his suitcase, he had put it on in the train, removing the one he had started the day in - now covered in his own ejaculate. A quick attempt at washing himself in the first class bathroom had seen to most of the rest, but he knew he would still feel somewhat uncomfortable for the rest of the day, what if he hadn't got it all?

He consoled himself with two things; firstly, the memory of what had gone on a few hours before, his rendezvous with a very attractive older woman who seemed to share his passion for feet - or at least enjoyed to have her own feet worshipped; and, the business card he now held in his hand, looking at it for the twelfth time that day.

Creative Director

It carried the normal information, contact number, company logo, email address, but none of that was important. The important part - the part he had fixated on since the moment he left the train - was a handwritten note she had scrawled across the card.

9pm, don't be late

Those few words held so much promise. He had been on business trips many times before, he knew that for some people they provided the perfect opportunity to play away from home, to have a discreet liaison without their wife ever finding out. He had sat through countless stories from countless men about the adventures they had found on the road. But for him, it hadn't been like that, he was not even married, but his 'conquests' while on business trips he could count on one hand. Perhaps tonight would be different?

He desperately wanted to know what Alice had in store for him. Each meeting he sat through became an elongated torture, he would get bored, his mind would drift to that perfect woman, and then he would notice the familiar tugging in this trousers before trying his best to give the meeting his full attention. He would succeed, for a minute or two at best, and then the cycle would begin anew.

Each time him mind wandered to something different. The delicate perfume of her feet, the warm, comforting, almost musky smell of them. The wrinkles of her beautiful soles, how soft they were in his hands, on his tongue, around his cock. But most often of all he found himself imagining the scene, her feet pumping away on his shaft, and his load unleashing itself upon them, her toes wet with his cum, dripping delicately down her sole like icing. That alone was one of the most erotic sights of his life, he hoped beyond all else that he would have the chance to see such a sight again.

He checked the clock once more, maybe for the twentieth time in this meeting alone, it was only 3pm, he would have to remain, on the edge of sexual curiosity for at least another six hours. He was giddy, almost like a schoolboy who knows he's going to lose his virginity.

Across town Alice was finding herself playing the waiting game too. She was intrigued by the young man on the train, and more intrigued by his apparent fascination with her feet. It was always nice to be appreciated, she took the effort to dress well and stay in shape, so she always enjoyed a well-meant compliment, but the feet thing was new to her. She'd heard about it, everyone had heard about it, but she had never experienced it for herself.

In a way, she thought, it was sweet to have such an innocent part of herself worshipped and fawned over by a young man. Most men she knew would happily tell her that she had 'a great pair of tits' or 'an amazing arse' and sometimes those comments weren't out of place, but to have someone admire her feet was different, exciting - almost forbidden.

On occasion she felt her mind wander too, back to the liaison in the train carriage, thinking of how it had unfolded. Each time she thought back she felt a heat inside her, excitement. She thought about what she wanted to do with Peter that night, she was still unsure how to take things. Meeting him in the bar for a drink was the right thing to do, she at least would have the option to change her mind. She knew she would invite him up to her room, but then what? The mind boggled with possibilities, some were things she had done a hundred times before, some she had never even considered until today.

Thankfully, for Alice, she was able to focus fairly well in her meetings, she was a director after all, it was what she had done for years. Luckily for her, her position of authority allowed her to wrap up her meeting early and suggest that the team consider the rest of their business over an early dinner, paid for by the company expense account.

They arranged to meet at a familiar restaurant at around 5.30 for an early dinner and to get the first round of drinks in. She knew these men so well, they would turn up in their suits, far from home, totally full of themselves and start drinking heavily, by 6.30 they would be slurring, by 7.30 they would have dispersed around the bar, hoping to pick up waitresses, bar maids and fellow travellers, now they were off their wives' leashes. By 8.30 one of them may have been successful, and the rest would stagger on to some nightclub, hoping to find some girls with fewer clothes and a higher blood alcohol level. This would be the perfect cover to slip away quietly and return to the hotel bar, with plenty of time to see if her young friend would join her.

But first, she would get changed. She departed the meeting and took a taxi directly to her hotel. Upstairs she took a bath, allowing every little bit of stress which had accumulated since stepping off that train to soak away, to evaporate from her body like steam.

She closed her eyes and thought back to her meeting with Peter, how he had been so shy at first but soon became more bold, emboldened by the possibility of touching her feet. What a strange part of my body I hold power in, she thought, I wonder how many men out there have felt the same? She imagined what Peter would do were he there right then. No doubt he would happily get on his knees beside the bath and give her tired feet a massage, his erection growing painfully inside his pants as he did. She thought about how far she would let him go, would she let him use his mouth? Would she surrender to his desire and allow him to worship her beautiful feet?

Almost unconsciously, she felt her hand lower between her legs, her fingers reaching out for her neglected bud. She had been horny since their meeting, but unlike Peter, she had never had any release. She stroked a single finger up and down her slit, even underwater she could feel her wetness, more slick and enticing that the warm bathwater around it. She teased herself slowly, allowing her thoughts to build into an image in her head, while she continued to rub slowly, ever-so-slowly, at the space between her thighs.

One touch rose higher than the rest, brushing against her clitoris. Her shoulders sank in reaction to the touch, her body let out a shiver of approval. She had teased herself for long enough, now her body was hungry for release. The gentle warmth in her womanhood was almost burning, a deep passionate need for release.

She switched her attention to her clit, stroking it softly with two hooked fingers, the way she had masturbated for her whole life, always guaranteed to get her where she wanted to be. Each gentle stoke sent a shiver through her body, electric jolts shot up her spine, the hairs on the back of the neck - dewy with bathwater - stood on end as she felt it approach. Her knees lifted up, her toes curled and her body contracted. Her orgasm hit her hard, she shuddered as wave after wave of sweet release coursed through her body, she was light-headed almost floating. Every muscle in her body seemed to stop working, as though she was weightless in the warm water. She let out a single, low, moan and then it subsided, leaving her there, unable to move, unwilling to move. She had needed it.

It was a while before she regained control of her senses, but the time eventually came. She stepped out of the bath, one delicate pointed toe, following the others onto the towel on the floor. She wrapped herself in towels and made her way to the bed, unable to dry herself until she had a chance to cool down and to recover from her orgasm.

Some time later she was ready. She dressed again for business, tight black skirt, white blouse and thigh-high stockings. She chose a pair of patent leather heels to complete her look. This time her feet would be hidden at first, she wondered how Peter would react to that. She stepped out of the room, it was 5.10pm, she placed the 'please make up my room' sign on the door and headed out to greet her colleagues. Hopefully they will be drunk already she thought to herself, then laughed, of course they would be.

Peter's meeting dragged on and on. Sales targets, strategy decisions, performance indicators, it was all very dull. Even without a reason to be distracted he would've found it very hard to concentrate at all. By the time the meeting ended at around 7pm he could safely say that he was none the wiser than he had been when he had walked in. Not that he cared, it was always some dull affair, ticking some pointless boxes, usually just enough work to justify shipping half the department to some distant city to discuss business which could've been handled by email.

As the meeting drew to a close people began to make their plans for the evening, dinner, drink, maybe drugs, and definitely debauchery. Peter enjoyed a good night out, and on any other occasion would be amongst the most eager to get out and make some bad mistakes, but today he had a better offer. There was no way he would be giving up on a meeting with Alice to hang around with a bunch of middle-aged men awkwardly trying to pick up girls half their age.

He made his excuses and feigned a stomach bug, pretending that he'd eaten something bad on the train and promising to find them later if he felt any better. He was taunted and mocked for not being able to handle it anymore, when he was the youngest of the bunch and should've been the most able, but he took it well and they eventually left him alone.

He realised that he didn't have long to get himself ready for his 'date' that night, and wanted to make sure that he was as prepared as he possibly could be. He made his way to the hotel where he was staying for the night and managed to check in without much hassle.

As soon as he was in his room he turned on the shower. While he waited for the water to heat to a good temperature, he rummaged through his suitcase and removed the shirt he had been wearing that morning. He had scrunched it into a ball to protect the rest of his clothes from what was on it, it was creased, messy and covered in cum - totally unusable at any point in this trip. Immediately he took it to the bathroom sink and made as good an effort as he could to clean it. He would pass it onto housekeeping later to be laundered, but certainly wanted to make sure he didn't give it to them while it was still spattered with semen.

With his shirt hanging on the outside of the glass shower cabinet he removed the rest of his clothes and submerged his body beneath the warming jets of water. The stresses of the last few hours eased away from him as he felt himself coming back to life. His excitement about his meeting that evening was starting to grow and he became acutely aware of how close he was to seeing her again.

He washed thoroughly, knowing full well that he needed to make a good impression if he was to have his hope of a repeat performance realised. He was aware that their brief encounter on the train had been very pleasant for him, but Alice had not been able to orgasm, the opportunity never arose. He wondered what would happen tonight, would they have sex? Would they just repeat what had happened on the train? Would they just meet for a drink and then part ways? Whatever happened, he was determined that if the opportunity arose he would return the favour and make her cum. He had always been a gentleman, and it seemed a shame not to be the same with such a glamorous and confident woman.

He knew that he needed to dress well to impress her, but luckily he was on business and had packed three of his best suits. He decided on the light grey suit, with white shirt and no tie, finished with a brown belt and shoes. It was business-like, but it was also the most casual of his suits. He looked at himself in the mirror, he was under no illusions, he definitely looked good in that suit, he had been told so before. He just hoped that Alice would think the same.

With a look at his watch he noted the time was only just gone 8. He was ready too soon, a common occurrence for him. He knew his instructions said not to be late, but he also knew how improper it would be for him to arrive too early. Now that he was ready he felt a nervousness rise in his stomach, as he became more excited, he became more nervous. As the fulfilment of his hopes approached, so did the possibility that they would remain unfulfilled. For now he could only hope, and wait.

Eventually 8.30 came around, it was time. He headed to the lobby and booked a taxi to take him to the Waldorf. His anticipation was burning through him now, he had never felt like this before a date before, he was almost shaking, he soon realised why. When the potential pay-off was so great, then so would be the sense of disappointment if it didn't go the way he'd imagined. For some reason, though, he felt confident that he hadn't misread the signs. He knew that whatever happened he was in for an interesting night at the very least.

It was exactly 9pm when he stepped into the bar of the Waldorf Astoria and spoke to the Maître d'. He asked for Miss Hudson and was immediately led through the sparely filled bar towards his date for the evening. As he wondered in and out of the other patrons, reclined in leather armchairs and sofas, drinking expensive cocktails, he thought that he had never been to a bar with a Maître d' before, whoever Alice was, she was clearly in a position to enjoy the best life had to offer.

It was not long before he saw her, perched delicately at the edge of a green leather armchair, her legs pointed out to one side, ankles crossed, as she sipped at something in a cocktail glass. She was a vision of beauty. Every aspect of her appearance seemed to have been meticulously arranged, from her hair, gently draped over one shoulder to the very way she positioned her body on her chair. She was accustomed to the finer things, she looked perfectly at home in such luxurious surroundings.

She turned and saw him, with a smile she stood up and greeted him, raising the back of her hand up to meet his. Instinctively, although he had never done it in his life, he took her hand and kissed it. Allowing it to fall slowly back down to her side as they exchanged greetings.

The waiter who had seated Peter noted the empty glass, "Another, ma'am?" he asked.

She returned to her seat and indicated that Peter should take up his position in the seat next to hers - another leather armchair, although a little smaller than her own. "No," she said, "thank you." she turned to her companion, "How old are you Peter?" she asked.

"I'm twenty-two," he answered.

"In that case," she said, turning back to the waiter, "We'll have whisky, single malt, anything older than my friend here."

The waiter nodded before turning on his heels and disappearing into the gentle hum of the bar.

"How have you been?" she asked, her tone slightly playful.

Peter thought for a moment, their encounter earlier had probably been one of the most exciting of his life, and although he didn't want to immediately start discussing it, he wanted her to know that he had been thinking about it all day, "I've been a little distracted," he said, emphasising the last word, "but otherwise, it's been fine."

Alice smiled, she knew exactly what he meant when he said he was distracted, she had felt the same way, but decided to play it a little cooler than him for now. "I bet you have," she said, with a smile, "And what exactly has been distracting you?"

Now it was Peter who laughed, she knew exactly what, "Well," he began, as though recounting the events of the day to a stranger, "I met this woman on the train this morning, she was beautiful, confident, pretty much perfect in every way, but there was something about her, some other part of her which I just couldn't stop thinking about, and all day my mind has been going back to that meeting this morning."

"What was it about her that kept you so distracted?" she played along.

"She was beautiful, everything about her was. Her hair, her skin, the way she dressed, but the thing that drew my eye, the part of her which drove me to distraction was her feet, simply the most perfect feet I had ever seen in my life."

Alice smiled, she was flattered, and surprised that he would answer so honestly given how shy he had been on the train. She supposed that maybe having had her toes in his mouth and her feet around his cock may have loosened his tongue a little.

The waiter arrived at the table with two glasses on whisky on a silver tray. "Bruichladdich 25," he said, directing his attention to Alice, who he had clearly decided was the more discerning of the two. He placed the drinks at the table and gave the slightest bow, before heading off into the bar once more.

"Cheers," said Alice, raising her glass, "To chance encounters."

Peter raised his glass, "To chance encounters," he chimed, they both sipped and set their glasses back down.

Already, though they had been back together less than five minutes, Peter found himself stealing glances. Whenever he thought he would get away with it he turned his head slightly and followed the line of her shapely, stocking-clad legs towards her delicately pointed feet. He loved the look of a woman in stockings and heels, but still wished that he could see more, just as he had that very morning.

Of course, he was far less subtle than he had hoped, and Alice caught him in his distraction almost immediately. She opted to ignore it at first, to let him enjoy the view without the realisation that he had been caught in the act.

"So tell me," she finally said, not wanting the conversation to become too comfortable, "How long have you been drawn to feet?"

Peter averted his gaze from the beautiful legs and looked back up at the woman who sat, smiling, sipping gently at her whisky. He had to think about his answer for a moment, "Forever," he said, "I think anyway, I don't remember a time when I hadn't been drawn to them." It was an honest answer.

"So you mean, for as long as you have been interested in girls - in women - you have been interested in feet?"

Again, he thought for a moment before answering, "Actually, maybe even longer, I think I was drawn to them even before I had any kind of sexual feelings, I'm not completely sure though."

"Interesting," she replied, "You know, I've heard about guys who are into feet, but until today I'd never had the pleasure of meeting one."

It was Peter's turn to smile, "Oh, I assure you the pleasure was entirely my own."

She was flattered, he obviously knew how to talk with a woman, just smooth enough to invite curiosity without being so slick that he would put her off. "I notice you still can't keep your eyes off of them."

Peter blushed, he knew she didn't mind, but he had hoped he had been a little more subtle, "Am I really that obvious?" he asked.

"I don't mind," Alice said, "I'm guessing part of the reason you are here is to try and get another look. Feel free." As she spoke she adjusted her position, sitting further back in her chair and folding one knee over the other. One foot pointed outwards, off the ground. She let the back of her heel slide loose, dangling from her toes, inviting him to look at the tiniest fraction of her stocking-clad foot.