Part 1:

Let's get this straight right away: It's called Amtrak's Lake Shore Limited now, but, to me, the overnight train from New York to Chicago will always be the New York Central's fabled 20th Century Limited, where the passengers are always rich and beautiful, dressed to the nines and sipping dry martinis until well past Buffalo, a black-and-white reverie with a soundtrack by George Gershwin.

I always take the train when I head for Chicago. It's a 15-hour trip, and, yes, I know I can fly in a couple of hours, spending an hour more in each city in the back of a cab. Then it's a hotel room. The train ticket and a sleeper still cost much more, but I like the pace. I like having drinks and a proper sit-down dinner, then retiring to my room to read as the train rocks and lurches through the Midwest. And yes, I know, the Amtrak amenities pale in comparison to the old days. But hey, I'm a romantic.

There I was in my compartment as the train eased out of Penn Station and headed north. It was a few minutes past six. A late start, but not too late. The train traveled underground until about 125th Street, then, suddenly, the Hudson filled the window and, a moment later, the giant George Washington Bridge. It was late June, so I had the sun almost all the way to Albany.

My dinner reservation was for 8:00, after the train left Albany. I was traveling alone, so I knew I'd be joining someone else at the table. Fine with me.

The steward came by a few minutes before to remind me of my reservation time. He said he'd prepare my berth while I was dining. I pulled out a $20 bill and left it for him on the small table beneath the window. I made my way to the dining car, where the captain showed me to a table. It was empty. "There's a lady joining you, Mr. S," he said. "No one else. It's a light train tonight."

"Fine," I said. "I'll have a dry martini. You have Tanqueray, right? Two olives."

"Hello, James."

I hadn't heard that voice in years, but I knew it immediately. I stood up halfway, the best I could do in the train booth.

"Laura! What a surprise!"

"I knew it would be," she said, slipping into the bench seat across from me. "I've always enjoyed surprising you."

Did she ever. I hadn't seen Laura K. since one night in Denver a long, long time ago, before the pandemic, before the financial crisis and the recession.

My profession, journalism, never recovered. Most of the big newspapers and magazines, the kinds of places I write for, are shells of their former selves. Assignments that used to pay me $5 or $10 a word and take months to report and write today pay maybe $2, and the editor asks, "Can you get it in by Tuesday?"

And don't get me off on expense accounts! I used to live pretty high up the food chain when I was working on the road. First-class hotels and restaurants. Now, for most writers, it's chain hotels and chain restaurants, if they travel at all. Now, it's mostly email and Zoom calls.

I hate working like that. And as I said, that's for most writers. Not me. I was spoiled. These days, when I take an assignment, I often wind up spending more than I make. I don't need a lot of money these days. I've got a bit saved up. I have a paid-off place in Manhattan and a country house a couple of hours north.

I wasn't going to make a buck on that trip to Chicago. It was all background and research for a story I'd already been working on for a couple of years. Still working on it. I can't tell you too much about it, but it's a big, big story. You'll hear about it.

Anyway, Laura and I had stayed in touch over the years. Emails and occasional online chats a few times a year, but nothing serious and nothing very often. Pretty benign stuff, really, with her often talking about dealing with her elderly parents, and me talking about family and job matters. When I did have a working trip, I'd ask her to make the travel arrangements. Made no difference to me, and she got commissions that way. Indeed, she made the arrangements for that Chicago trip.

"Your martini, sir," said the waiter. "And for you, madame?"

"I'll have a glass of merlot," she said.

"Of course."

"Still only merlot?" I asked. "You don't change. I like that in a woman."

'You're one to talk, James. Martinis on the Lake Shore Limited"

"Well, I prefer the old name," I said, "but you knew that. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Like I said, I wanted to surprise you. It's not like I didn't know how to find you. Besides, you've sounded down the last few times we've swapped emails. I wanted to cheer you up."

"Well, you have. You look fabulous."

She did. A trace or two of gray in her jet-black hair, a few lines in her face that weren't there 15 years ago, but just as beautiful as ever. She was wearing a tailored black jacket, a matching skirt, a white silk blouse, sheer black hose, and sharp-toed pumps. I get a thrill, or something like that, just describing how she dressed and how she looked. What she could do to me! Sexiest woman on two legs.

And me? Well, I've got more belly, less hair, and if you look closely, you'll see hearing aids tucked behind my ears. Time happens.

"You look pretty good yourself, James."

"That's generous of you, sweetie."

I reached across the table and took her hand. It was soft. The bright red of her nails contrasted with her porcelain skin. Our fingers danced about, searching for the right spots to settle on.

The waiter arrived with her wine. We ordered grilled salmon for me, a salad for her.

"So that's how you've kept your figure," I said.

"A girl's got to work at it, you know."

My desire for her rose with every syllable. I never knew anyone who had the grip on me that this woman, who referred to herself as a "simple Tgirl," did. I never believed that bit of self-deprecation from her, and she never gave me a reason to. She was complex and multi-layered, dark and mysterious. She was always so closely guarded with her personal life that, even after all these years, I still knew very little about her.

Oh, I knew what city she lived in, where she was from, a bit about her family, a bit about her work. I even knew something of her politics, which were 180 degrees out from mine. Let's just say we long ago agreed to disagree on that point. What we had in common was greater than what we didn't.

Still, the pieces of Laura's life that I knew were all scattered. I was never able to overcome her reticence enough to put it all together into a coherent image of her.

"I'm so glad you did this. Really. What a wonderful surprise."

"I wanted to see you. And... there's something I want to tell you. It's important."

"What's that?"

"Later."

I felt her foot gently caressing my ankle, then moving slowly up my pant leg. I slipped my foot out of my loafer and caressed her other leg. She was looking me straight in the eye with a look of lust, love, and lord knows what else. Her green eyes pierced deeply. Her black irises narrow and focused. Her red lips slightly parted.

"You know, the last time we barely touched our dinner," she said as her fingers spider-crawled up my hand.

"Yes, I remember. I remember that bottle of wine, too. You should have heard me explain that to my editor."

The waiter arrived with our dinners. We ate quickly, not talking much but with a lot of under-the-table action. She lifted her foot and planted it squarely in my crotch. I reciprocated.

"How's the salad?"

"Crunchy. And how's the salmon?"

"Just like I like it," I said. "Firm on the outside, still soft and just a bit raw on the inside."

We finished quickly. I motioned for the waiter and had him bring us two more drinks. She had another wine. I had a whisky. We carried them through the rocking train back toward my compartment. As I unlocked the door, she slipped in front of me.

"Go away now. Go sit in the lounge and sip your drink. Give me about 20 minutes."

Then, she kissed me, a long, deep kiss, and gently squeezed my cock through my trousers.

"Mmm," I said. Then, looking at the obvious tent in my pants front, "I may have to hang here in the hallway until this settles back down."

"Don't let it settle too much," she said, closing the door in my face and leaving me, my whisky, and my hardon all alone in the passageway.

Part 2:

I made my way back two cars to the observation car at the end. It had a couple of club chairs that swiveled enough to follow the view. Not that there was much to see in the dark except for the fleeting bolts of light as we passed houses and small towns. We were somewhere in New York state between Syracuse and Rochester.

Back in the day, the 20th Century Limited operated between Grand Central Terminal in Manhattan and LaSalle Street Station in Chicago. When Amtrak took over, the train moved to the new Penn Station, a glorified bus terminal that squats below Madison Square Gardens. A few years ago, Amtrak expanded and built a new, more expansive train hall, lovely, but a modest improvement, frankly.

In Chicago, LaSalle is now a subway stop, and the Lake Shore Limited pulls up at the grand, restored Union Station.

But, of course, I wasn't thinking too much about all of that. I was thinking about Laura and what I expected we'd be doing to and with each other in, oh, about 17 minutes. I sipped my drink and imagined her preparing herself for me.

I revel in every nuance of a woman's preparations, how she readies and pampers herself to, at once, seduce and be seduced, to lure her lover and to be consumed by him. Laura was a devotee of exotic, provocative lingerie and undergarments, and I so wanted to see her in them that night.

Rather than tell you what I imagined, however, here are her own words. After the trip, I told her I was going to write this little story. She sent me this email describing how she spent those 20 minutes...

Seeing you again, James, after all these years, made the effort worth it. It is not easy coordinating such a rendezvous, my schedule being unpredictable and involving quite a bit of travel. But you've always understood that. Which makes our rare trysts even more exciting when they do happen.

The train compartment was intimate. It had been years since I'd been on a train, with work travel almost always by private air. I hadn't realized until now just how different the experience really was. I stood there for a minute, my eyes closed, drawn in to the undulating sounds of the wheels moving along the track. The gentle motion of the train was intoxicating and arousing. "Perfect," I thought.

My valise was placed on the bed, just as I had asked of the steward before dinner. In it, a careful selection of intimates suited for this very special occasion.

My lingerie choice for the trip had actually long since been made. You and I shared a similar interest in tasteful classic erotica. To kindle your desire this evening, a corset, panties, a satin lace garter belt, and fishnet stockings. Trademark black, of course. A leather collar and elbow-length gloves accented the ensemble. Finally, for a little color and to make no doubt of my intentions, a pair of take-me-now red stilettos.

A brush of the hair and a second application of lipstick, red to match the heels, had me ready just in time for your knock at the door. I dimmed the lights to our cozy boudoir and made my way to the edge of the bed.

You whispered from the other side of the door, "Are you decent?"

Partially reclined, legs crossed, I cast a wanting gaze toward the door.

"No," I replied.

"Nice answer," I said as I slowly opened the door to the compartment. "Sounds familiar."

And there she was! I could have cum then and there just from seeing her. She looked so incredibly sexy, so wanton, a critical mass of sexual energy about to burst from the tight confines of her arousing outfit.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked.

"I'm not thinking at all," I replied, " at least not with my big head."

I immediately went to her, took her in my arms, and kissed her. I kissed her ferociously, hungrily. I kissed her mouth, driving my tongue into her open lips. I kissed her cheeks, her eyes, her neck, her bare shoulders.

And as I kissed her, she, just as hungrily, pushed my jacket from my shoulders. She unbuckled my belt, opened my trousers, and groped for my stiff cock.

"I love your cock, James. I love how it gets so hard, so fast for me." She pulled my pants down and slowly caressed and stroked me, one hand on the shaft, the other gently scratching my balls. "Close your eyes, James. Close your eyes."

With that, she took me in her mouth, teasing the circumcised head with her tongue, her fingers still caressing my balls. Then, she took hold of herself and began to stroke her own cock as she slowly stroked mine, letting out a low moan with each downward motion.

"Oh, Laura, that feels so fucking good."

She kept a slow, deliberate pace, as if savoring my phallus like a creamy dessert. More moans. Hers or mine? She was taking me to the threshold of an orgasm.

"Don't make me cum," I said. "Don't make me cum."

"I want to! I want to taste your sweet honey. I need to."

"Stop. Stop. I won't be able to get it up again."

"Don't worry about that. I'll make you hard. I can make you cum and cum all night long."

Theoretically, yes, I thought. But my anxiety was building along with my coming orgasm. I'm at an age now when the erections just don't always happen. I can be super sexed up, and the little guy just doesn't want to cooperate. Yes, I've used Viagra, and it works. But I wasn't planning on any extracurriculars this trip and didn't bring any.

Then again, Laura was a whole 30-day supply of Viagra on two legs. Two very sexy legs encased then and there in black fishnets. And those red shoes! Oh, Jesus.

She kept working my cock like a suck machine. She worked one hand around and gently fingered the rim of my anus. With the other, she kept stroking as she sucked. My orgasm was building.

"I'm cumming! I'm cumming!"

I exploded into her mouth. She sucked ferociously, madly, taking in every drop that erupted and then sucking so hard that she seemed to pull it out of me.

Part 3:

It was about 11:30. We hadn't noticed that the train had stopped at Rochester and was now starting up again.

I pulled away from her mouth, stepped out of my pants, and took off my shirt. I lay down beside her. I put my arms around her tiny body and kissed her again. I could smell the musk of my cock and taste my own cum on her sweet, red lips.

"I can't believe you surprised me like this, Laura."

"Mmmmm," she sighed and cuddled into me."I wanted to so much. I wanted you to want me as much as I wanted you."

"You know I do. I always have."

"Do you? Do you really? Tell me something, James. Why me?

"What do you mean?"

"Why me? Why have you stuck with me all these years? Lord knows I've never given you much encouragement. I've had men come and go in my life. Too many. But you're always there."

"That's easy," I said. "I've loved you since the very first time I saw one of your photos."

"What?"

"Yes! I remember it vividly to this day. It was black-and-white. You were sitting up on your knees, wearing thigh-high black stockings and black pumps. No face, of course, but I could just make out your sexy bikini tan lines. And a glimpse of neatly trimmed pubic hair. Oh god. I knew you were perfect."

"I can't believe you remember that."

"I remember everything about you, Laura. I remember how you like this..." And I began to gently kiss her forehead, then down her face. "And I remember how you like this..." I kissed and nibbled on her ear, down her white neck to her bare shoulder. "And this." Then the top of her breasts, burning myself in her décolletage.

She held my head in both hands as I slowly worked my way down. I kissed her through her corset, the soft strip of exposed skin between the corset and her garter belt. The top of her panties.

"Now who's hard for whom?" I teased.

I gently traced her swollen clitoris through the silk panties with my tongue. She squirmed and pressed herself against me, squeezing my head between her thighs.

"Oh, James!"

I lingered, teasing her with my tongue and gently caressing her sac, her perineum, her sweet, sweet pussy. I'd be there soon enough, I knew, but, for now, I was simply brushing it with my fingers, gently massaging the rim as I worked my tongue down her shaft, her balls, to the bare skin of her upper thigh. I licked and nibbled every exposed square inch.

She squirmed again. "Oh, James. I can't believe what you're doing to me."

I worked my way down one leg. I ministered to each red-painted toe, sucking on her big toe as if it were her engorged cock. Then I started again on her other foot, working my way back up.

"Turn over," I commanded.

I eased her panties down, kissing her soft, round cheeks. Then I dived into her, both hands kneading her cheeks, my tongue driving into her sweet hole. God, I loved it. Digging my tongue into her as far as I could, savoring her, teasing her, taking her to the edge of her own orgasm. I soaked her. Then, I slipped in a finger... then two... then three.

"Oh my god!" she screamed. "Fuck me with your tongue! With your hand! Put it in me!"

Four fingers.

"Reach behind you. My purse. Get some lube."

It was flavored. Ironic, I thought, vanilla for most un-vanilla sex. No matter. I poured it on my hand, on her ass, and worked it into her.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck," she said.

My full hand in her. I pushed it up to my wrist. Licking her and pushing. I stroked her cock with my free hand. Licking, stroking, pushing.

"Keep going!" she gasped. "Don't stop."

She was gaped enough now that I could make a fist and thrust deep into her. I swear, I think I went halfway up my forearm.

"More. More. Fuck me! Fuck me!" she screamed.

Part 4:

I don't know when we fell asleep, but it was about 4 in the morning when the train eased into Cleveland, and the jolt of the stop awakened me. Laura was curled up beside me, her head buried in my chest. I kissed the top of her head and carefully eased my way out of the berth.

I pulled up my pants from the floor and grabbed my shirt. I quietly opened the door of the compartment and wandered to the cafe car. There was one young woman in the kitchen.

"Is there coffee available?" I asked.

"Of course," she said. "How would you like it?"

"About half warm milk and coffee, please. I woke up too early."

"Of course."

I sat at a bare table and looked out into the darkness. Elyria, Sandusky, Toledo, we slipped along the Lake Erie coast effortlessly and quietly, passing through an ancient landscape in an ancient mode of transport, traveling miles and time, oblivious to each.

God, how I loved Laura.

No one else had ever made me feel like she did. No one had ever so thoroughly released me, freed me from every care and inhibition. Three marriages, and no one had ever liberated me so completely. Not that she didn't frustrate me at the same time. But I had no reservations with her. I had no responsibilities. With her, I was free to feel with no penalties for acting on my feelings.

Of course, I've never understood her feelings. She was too locked up, too private to open up, to expose herself. But that was of no matter then. Or now, I guess. Whatever we had or have together is just what we have.

I finished my coffee and went back to our compartment. I slipped in quietly, took off my clothes, and eased my way back into bed. I didn't want to awaken Laura. She looked so little and protected there beside me. I kissed her head. She stirred.

"Mmmmm," she said. "Where'd you go?"

"Shhh. Laura's asleep." I kissed her again. "Just for a coffee and to look out a bit."

"I missed you. I woke up, and you were gone."

"I'm sorry. I didn't want you to wake up."

"But I am now." She began to rub my cock and balls. "I love your cock." She pressed against me and kissed me on the lips. "I'm so glad I did this... we did this. This has been magical."

"I know. I don't want it to end. I don't want to ever get to Chicago."

Her hands began to roam over my body. "Help me out of this," she said. With her help and instructions, I unfastened the corset and the garter belt. I slipped the corset off her and eased the stockings down her legs. We were both naked.

"You know," she said, "I once read somewhere that no self-respecting Tgirl is ever totally naked."

"Then I guess I'll just have to love you whether or not you respect yourself right now. I love being naked with you."

We fully embraced. Her breasts pressed against my chest, our legs intertwined, our lips locked in tender passion. Our cocks were hard. I took both in one hand and gently stroked them together.

"I want to make love to you, Laura."

"I want you to."

No athletics this time. Nothing frantic. No hurry. No desperation. We kissed slowly and tenderly. Our hands wandered across each other's bodies, no parts off limits. I caressed her bottom, her legs. She nibbled on one of my nipples. She kissed my neck. I suckled one of her breasts. I licked her underarm. She kissed her way down my chest and stomach. She kissed the head of my cock, licked the shaft, and continued down my leg. We turned around into a 69 position. I kissed her thighs as she kissed mine. She made tender love to my dick. I gently kissed hers, flicking the head with my tongue like an engorged clitoris, and slipping a finger into her ass.

Then, I rolled her on her back and positioned myself between her legs. I took hold of both ankles and lifted her legs onto my shoulders, exposing her ass and opening her up. I took some more vanilla lube and spread it over my cock and her pussy. It was still relaxed from earlier. My buttery fingers slipped in easily.

"Ohhh. That feels so good," she said.

I positioned the head of my cock at her opening and slowly began to enter her.

"Is it OK?"

"Yes. It's heaven!"

It felt wonderful. Her ass was warm and sucked me into her. I held her tight and kissed her as I slowly began to push in while holding her hips and guiding her movements. I pushed partway, then pulled back. Push then pull. She met each thrust with a squeeze of her bottom, pulling me back in. Push then pull. Until I had the full length of my cock in her.

"Fuck me, James. Make me yours. I want to be your woman forever."

In and out. In and out. I was moaning. "I love you, Laura. I love you. I could marry you."

"Then fuck your wife, Laura, James. Fuck her."

Our slow lovemaking went on for what seemed an hour. I'd speed up, then slow down. She'd caress or squeeze my balls, then stop. Repeat. Fast, slow. Fast, slow.

When our orgasms came, they came suddenly.

"Faster," she said. "Fuck me faster. I'm going to cum."

Her ass contracted and froze hard on my dick. Her cock began to pulsate. She exploded all over both of us. Then I exploded, shooting a river into her, nearly passing out from the intensity.

"I love you, too, James."

Part 5:

"Elkhart! The next stop is Elkhart, Indiana," boomed the conductor as he made his way through the car. "Elkhart in three minutes."

I could hear Laura in the shower when I awoke. There was a cup of coffee on the tabletop by the window. Still hot. With milk. She remembered. There was a knock on the door. The steward delivered two white towels.

"The lady asked for them," he said.

"Thanks. I can't get to my wallet right now. I'll take care of you in Chicago."

"No problem, sir. Thank you."

"Is he gone?" came a voice from behind the shower door. She stuck out her head. It was wrapped in a towel. She had another one fastened around her breasts. "I was hoping you'd still be asleep. I didn't want you to see me like this."

'Like what? You look fabulous!"

"No makeup. Wet hair. I like to keep the illusion alive."

"I have no illusions about you, Laura. Thanks for the coffee, by the way. You remembered."

"I remember every moment of our time in Denver. It was special. Like last night."

"Speaking of last night, what was the thing you wanted to tell me? You said it's important."

"Nothing seems very important after last night, James. I felt like a total woman with you last night. You know, I don't usually like anyone touching my boy parts. But it's different with you. I don't know why, maybe they feel like girl parts when I'm with you. I feel like a total woman right now. I love it. " She stepped over to me and kissed me. "Mmmm. I love the taste of coffee lips."

"Don't change the subject. Tell me what's so important."

"Oh, OK. I'm retiring."

"From what? I've never understood what it is you do exactly."

"Well, I won't be doing it much longer," she said. "I'm buying a little place in the hills of St. Croix in the Virgin Islands. I've always wanted a secluded little cabin in the woods. I'm getting this one... with an ocean view!"

"That's great!" I said. "I hope you'll invite me for a visit."

"Once I get a big comfy chair as you have in your country place," she said, winking. "I'm really excited. It's a guest house on an estate. I know the owner. I've worked for him over the years. He's dividing the property and selling me the house at a very low price, just the cost of the legal work, really. It's not big, just one bedroom. But a wonderful veranda. And I won't have to work anymore! Between my savings and selling my place and no mortgage payment, I'll have enough to live on for a long time."

"That's fabulous, Laura. I'm so happy for you!"

"I'll still be able to fly back home easily. Tons of private jets I can hitch rides on."

"South Bend! South Bend, Indiana, is the next stop," boomed the conductor again. "Chicago Union Station is about one hour."

"I guess I'd better get in the shower now," I said, picking up one of the spare towels.

When I came out, Laura was brushing her jet-black hair. I stood and watched her for a moment. She was so pretty. I really was in love.

"You know, I read your story about your last trip to Chicago. It made me very jealous."

"It just happened. What can I say? Besides, I don't think you've been so chaste over the last 15 years."

"No, only when I'm wearing a cage."

She kissed my cheek as she eased past me into the shower area to do her makeup. I fumbled around picking up clothing that had been strewn about the compartment. Got dressed myself. Kind of rumpled. I retrieved a fresh shirt from my bag. And I pulled out two $20 bills for the steward.

She came out and got dressed, too. The same outfit as last night. Unlike me, she had actually hung up her clothes so they were still neat and wearable.

There's something so intoxicating about watching a woman dress. Every motion is so sensual, so effortlessly erotic. Laura just exuded sexiness as she fastened her bra, slipped her panties up, and tucked herself. Next, she slowly and deliberately rolled her stocking up her smooth legs and then eased her tiny feet into her shoes. Next came the blouse, then the skirt. Then the jacket.

She said she'd be getting a cab and going right back out to O'Hare. "I'll send you my new address when I'm settled in," she said.

The sun was bright and the sky clear as we rumbled through the South Side into the city. It looked great, one of the four or five days a year when Chicago's weather is bearable. I was looking forward to being off the train and making my way over to the Blackstone.

We walked together through the station to the taxi stand. There was a short line, so her cab pulled up quickly. Before she got in, I took her in my arms and kissed her.

"I love you, Laura. I always have and always will. You're the finest woman I've ever known."

"I know," she said, slipping from my arms and into the back seat. "I know."