(Lesbian)
Business or Pleasure?
By Jacqueline Applebee
I had pulled the short straw. My boss volunteered me to attend a conference, at our head office in Edinburgh and he had given me exactly two days notice that I had to go. It was late November and I shivered at the thought of travelling up there; I was certain I'd freeze my ass off. I had kicked up a fuss, but my boss wasn't in the mood to listen. One of these days, I promised myself, I would walk out of that office and start a new life and get a new job, doing something I loved, instead of working in a place where I wasn't appreciated. I sighed out loud to myself; who was I kidding? People like me didn't do that sort of thing. Besides, where would I go?
I'd heard that these events were an exercise in boredom and futility; that the only high point was seeing how much loot you could steal from your hotel room.
Marc in personnel currently held the record; he had managed to grab the television, a showerhead and three pillows from his room. God only knew how he'd got it all back home.
I must admit though, the company were paying for me to stay in a nice looking hotel, near to Edinburgh Castle . I promised to make it up to myself, by indulging in lots of sightseeing after the conference. I was also hoping to check out a lesbian venue in the heart of Edinburgh , that I'd found whilst trawling through the Scottish Tourist Board website. I might even get lucky, if things went well. There was no way I was spending the whole time pawing over financial reports and funding strategies in a room full of suits. I was going to turn this into a holiday… somehow. I hoped.
With one day to go, I discovered that my company's generosity didn't extend to my travelling arrangements. They had bought me the cheapest ticket they could find and tried to make me get a train, leaving London at five am in the morning.
I sneaked off to the toilets, shredded the worthless tickets and flushed them away, before going back online.
The next day, I sulked all the way to Kings Cross Station, with my hastily packed suitcase wobbling behind me and then I quickened my pace, as I realised that I'd made a mistake with the time. It was actually quite fun, in a frantic way, to hold onto my jiggling chest and breathlessly run down the long platform, laughing and stumbling onto the long red train, with only seconds to spare.
I am not well-paid enough to afford first class all the time, but on a long journey like this, I'll make the effort and spend, just so I can have the decadent, sigh-out-loud pleasure, of sinking my plush round backside into a warm wide seat and watch the varied British countryside roll by in luxury. Besides, I'm a big gal and the thought of squeezing my sizable ass into a tiny seat for five hours didn't appeal to me.
The train had just cleared the station, when I heard a low sweet voice, from beside me.
“Good Morning, I'm Megan and I'll be serving you today.”
I gave the pale pretty woman a slow gaze, enjoying her genuine toothy smile and dark curly hair, with long ringlets bouncing as she spoke.
“Can I bring you some refreshments Madame?” she asked.
This was the only place where people called me that and I could pretend that it was real. There were only a few other passengers in the slightly swaying carriage, but none of them knew that I was a researcher, working for a big charity in an awful office block. I could be the Queen of Togo for all they knew; especially dressed as I was in my flowing colourful tie-dye dress that complimented my molten chocolate skin.
I accepted a tall glass of sparkling mineral water, a welcoming dark coffee in a pretty porcelain cup and a large plate of delicate sticky pastries. Megan smiled at me and then turned on her heels and disappeared back to the galley. I followed the woman with my eyes as she walked away, her bright uniform holding her generous curves as she moved.
I shook my head, feasting my gaze on the plate of goodies in front of me instead. I bit into a sticky confection and sweet flaky pastry practically evaporated over my tongue, then I looked down to discover that I was covered in flecks of buttery crumbs. I brushed at myself ineffectively and chose to ignore it. I was sure no one else would notice. My hot coffee was flavoursome and mellow and I savoured it, rolling the dark brew around my mouth. This was the life, I thought; I could get used to being waited on, even if it was only for a few hours.
My imagination goes into overdrive if I'm left alone with it for long enough and it didn't take long before I had invented a fantasy world for myself, complete with a new name and a specified mission. I closed my eyes and imagined myself to be an exotic dignitary, an ambassador on her way to an important meeting in Scotland 's capital city, on a matter of crucial importance.
Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce Lady Tolu; special envoy to Great Britain , from the parliament of Gambia … no wait, make that Tanzania , that's where Tanzanite, my favourite gemstone comes from. I smiled to myself and chuckled at my silliness. Tolu was the name of a friend I'd known at school. She was the first person that I ever let feel me up; being a fat teenager had given me breasts that were the envy of my whole class. Tolu had been eager and excited, but she also made me feel special and not like I was just a pair of tits on legs. I sighed; right now, I didn't feel very special at all.
I reluctantly read through all the boring paperwork in my bag; I wanted to get the truly mind-numbing tasks out of the way, before I got to Edinburgh. I idly wondered if I could get away with signing in at the conference, before slipping out the back door.
The few remaining passengers got off at York and I was left alone in the carriage. The beautiful countryside, still all golden brown and green, even in November, sped by once more and I put my head back, letting out a loud relaxing sigh, enjoying the space that was now all mine.
“Is everything alright Madame?” Megan was back, magically appearing beside my seat and I squeaked, realising that she had heard me. She leaned over and pointed out of the window suddenly. “Look, you can see the ‘Angel of the North!' she exclaimed, pointing at the famous landmark, but I didn't see the monumental iron statue as the train flew by; I was too busy looking at the sight of Megan's skin. I was mesmerised by the soft sheen of her creamy flesh, how her blouse didn't have the top button done, how the shadows leading to her round sweet breasts seemed to call to me…
Megan looked down, saw me gazing at her and my mouth opened spontaneously to apologise for staring.
“Enjoy the view. You're on holiday now,” she winked and then she was gone and I was left, sticking to my seat, panting like a dog. I felt as if my nipples would thrust themselves out of my dress; I was painfully aroused. It seemed as if every swinging trundle of the locomotive seemed to go straight to my groin, working me over like a huge twenty tonne, bright red vibrator.
I crept to the toilets and touched myself, shaking out my arousal, with one hand gripping onto the wash-basin; my other hand was busy, with eager fingers slipping into and rubbing against my pussy, keeping in tempo with the train. My ass was wedged against the trembling door, transmitting the fast motion of the moving jerking carriage, through to my clenching muscles and right into the heart of me. I came quickly, erupting with the sound of a deafening roar, blasting my ears. I didn't know if the astounding noise had come from me or the train.
By the time I staggered back to my seat, I felt boneless and spent. I just wanted to get to my destination and sleep for about a week. I finished the last sticky cake, licking my fingers and doggedly ignored the sugary remains that seemed stuck to my dress like glue.
The train slowed down considerably after we passed Newcastle, the unhurried soft motion began rocking me from my post-orgasmic state, to an even more relaxed frame. My eyelids grew sluggish and I could feel my head nodding, rolling back as I stretched out in comfort.
Screw conference papers, I was having a nap.
When I awoke, the train wasn't moving at all. It was so quiet, I could hear my own confused, stumbling breath above the squeak of my seat, as I sat up and took in my stationary surroundings. I heard the slow rhythmic pad of Megan's shoes as she tip-toed towards me. On seeing that I was awake, she rested her heels on the floor.
“There's been a fire at Waverly. We have to stay here until we get the all-clear.”
“Is it serious?” I asked, a little confused, before I remembered that Waverly was Edinburgh's main railway station. My mouth was dry and I felt dishevelled, like a crumpled tissue. I thought I probably looked like crap, whilst Megan on the other hand looked luscious.
“Everyone got out ok, but they're worried about the smoke,” she said and looked down at me strangely. “We'll probably end up at Berwick-Upon-Tweed. It's the next stop. My home town,” she added, tilting her head.
Oh boy, she was still giving me a strange look. I realised my sticky hands still had tiny pastry flakes stuck to them.
“Have I got something on my nose?” I ventured.
“What?” she looked perplexed.
“I've got some of that cake on me, haven't I?” I scrubbed at my face, suddenly embarrassed. Why wasn't I more careful? What the hell was I doing, carrying on like slob.
“You're … you're fine,” she stammered. “You're lovely. That's why I was staring,” she blushed, her whole face suddenly going violet. “You're lovely.”
It's hard to know what to do, when a beautiful woman says something like that. You can only gawp like an idiot for so long, before you have to say or do something.
I reached up, sliding my hand into hers, gently pulling her fingers to my face, kissing her wrist in invitation. As my lips touched her silky skin, she slid down to my seat, over the armrest and finally into my lap; her round bottom a warming welcome weight atop me.
She touched me, gently sought out my face, my body like an inquisitive child. Firm fingers pushed gently at my full lips and I imagined that I could feel the whorl of her fingerprints over my skin as she swept them across my chin. She smoothed the back of her hands over my cheek, my temples, as if checking my temperature. Her breasts shifted and moved against mine as she explored my straining body and every last inch of me tingled.
“Someone might come,” I tried to say, but my words were still pretty muffled against her.
“Too right,” she laughed.
She was right, it was a bloody stupid thing to say.
My groin pulsed strongly with longing and I closed my eyes as she finally kissed me long and slow, pushing her tongue into my mouth. Megan made desperate mewling noises as I pulled at her blouse. Her breasts were so beautiful; I sank my face into her cleavage, lapping at her warm rich skin. I raised my head and Megan instantly dove down to my chest, rubbing her lips over the fabric of my dress.
“I've wanted you since Birmingham,” she murmured to my breast, latching onto and then biting hard on my protruding nipple. I gasped, my eyes crossing with pain and beautiful pleasure. I wanted more, even though it felt excruciating and I arched into her mouth, grabbing hold of her soft hair, bringing her to me even more.
Breathing was only a secondary concern to me right now, as Megan stroked her hands over my breasts and belly, gripping me, stretching her pale arms around my waist, squeezing my flesh enthusiastically.
Her round ringlets dropped against my face, soft, fragrant and bouncy, as she gyrated on my lap, hiking up her tight skirt, sliding up against me, palming my sore breasts with wide open hands and all the while, still kissing me with generous glistening lips and a hot wet mouth.
I felt myself vibrating suddenly and was shocked when Megan reached behind herself and magically pulled out a walkie-talkie.
“What? We're being diverted? Okay… Right!” she yelled into the device.
I pinched one of her thighs as she talked; dragged my nails over the sensitive skin and she glared at me. Megan clicked the device off and leapt further on top of me, launching herself over and making me topple backwards.
“You cow!” she rasped, laughing.
Megan pushed her arm under my dress, finding my knickers as only a temporary barrier. I helped her push them down and then her own fingers were sinking into my wet sticky heat. Megan returned my previous actions, by holding onto my clit, pinching down with two fingers. The pressure increased as she held me trapped, making me pant and grunt.
“Not so mouthy now, are you?” she teased, squeezing my clit even harder. I was going to start begging if she kept that up and I bit my lip defiantly for all of two seconds.
“You're right, I've been a bad girl,” I squeaked through the delicious pain, fluttering my eyelashes in a parody of innocence. She gave my clit a final sharp twist and in moments, her slick fingers were against my lips as I licked my own taste off her. Megan looked down at me with a satisfied smile.
We traded touches; she groped my ass, I squeezed her breasts, she grasped my neck, I sucked at her throat. My flesh sizzled, she radiated a blast furnace of heat. I pawed at her hips, she pounded her slick burning crotch against my thighs. We rubbed and humped and wrestled until we both came at the same time, sore, panting, exhausted and grinning like fools.
I never made it to Edinburgh; the train terminated at Berwick-Upon-Tweed, as Megan had predicted. She took me to her small flat on the edge of town and we spent the next three days together, by the edge of the majestic North Sea. It was bliss; the most unexpected, lovely holiday that I'd ever had. We promised to keep in touch and Megan walked me back to the station on Monday night; she said goodbye and then pressed me up against a wall and kissed the air out of my lungs.
It took me an age to buy my return ticket back to London, but I had work waiting and my horrible boss wouldn't extend my leave. At least he didn't ask for a report on the conference.
I got back to work on Tuesday morning and realised that I'd forgotten to buy a postcard during my travels. I felt as if I were in a weird dream and that I had imagined the whole sexy adventure. Gone were the dark craggy cliffs, the freezing rolling waves and the wide-open spaces, where Megan and I were the only souls for miles. There were no ancient castles to see, no wildlife, no trees, no nothing. Right now, in my cramped office, things were so alien and I felt hollow.
I found myself looking out of my thirteenth floor window, watching lines of dirty cars and lorries caught in traffic, as they crawled under the huge railway bridge that crossed over the main road. The grey flat pavement was also covered in a squirming crush of bodies on their way to work. There were so many people jammed into such a small space; I felt like crying at the thought of being stuck here.
But then, something special happened. I caught sight of the bridge again and a long red passenger train soared past, hooting its amazingly loud horn, shocking me from my sad thoughts. I imagined Megan on that train, thought of her in her bright uniform and then I thought of all the fun I'd had tearing it off her, when she took me to her place.
I remembered how we had made love, squeezed into her small bed, and then walked wearily along the beautiful blustery coastline, before buying fish and chips at a local cafe. Later we had curled up together on her armchair, in front of a flickering fire and we licked the salt off each other's faces, with long slow kisses. I had felt as if I were living on another planet.
I smiled to myself, clicked on my computer and found the online train ticket site. The warm tingling between my legs and the happy memories replaying through my head, reminded me to buy a one-way ticket this time. First Class, of course.
© Copyright 2007-2011 Jacqueline Applebee