Chapter 2

As Becky looked out the window of the train car, my hand moved discretely over to her thigh. I rested it ever so lightly on her leg just above the knee.

Becky was so interested in what was passing by she didn’t notice at first. That gave me the courage to proceed and I let it rest a little more relaxed on her leg.

She still didn’t react positively or negatively, which I was thankful for. But the next step wouldn’t be so easy. Becky’s steampunk outfit consisted of an ankle-length tan cotton dress with a dark brown lace overlay.

The dress was flowing with a modest V collar (remember, this was the Victorian era), and long sleeves with flared wristlets. On top of the dress, she wore a brown leather waist-cincher.

As my hand moved up her leg, I gathered the dress an inch at a time. I’m certain that Becky felt what I was doing now but she pretended not to, instead she just kept looking out the window. I noticed the subtle change in her breathing, though.

Besides, you would have to be completely out of it not to feel a dress like this riding up your leg. But if she wanted to pretend not to notice, it was fine with me. As long as there wasn’t a protest against it, it was just as if she was giving me permission in my book.

Becky let me continue, most likely to see how far I would take this game considering we were in public.

What she hadn’t learned about me though, is that being public doesn’t really bother me – there are ways to play even in public and this was far from the busiest place I’d ever done this in.

With the only other people in this car both wearing earbuds and in their own little worlds, we may as well have been in my bedroom at home.

My hand continued moving up her leg. When her dress had gathered above her knee she turned to look at me. “Daniel, what are you doing” she whispered, placing her hand on mine to stop me.

“Relax Becky, hon. That couple up there couldn’t hear you if you screamed – he’s fixed on some sports movie and she is into her music. They both have earbuds in their ears so unless this train jumps the tracks and flips on its side, they won’t be bothered.”

“What if the conductor comes through or someone else passes by?”

“We are in the last occupied car on the train. Anyone coming through would have to come from the far end and we’d see them in plenty of time to cover up. But if you are worried about it...”

I took off my “duster” coat, a long coat that hung down to just above what would normally be cowboy boots – the kind you see in some Western movies, and I put it over her like a blanket.

“There. Now I can play and you don’t have to worry about being seen ... only heard. So let’s see how long you can STAY quiet!”

The look on Becky’s face when I said that was priceless! She had no idea who she was dealing with and she was wondering just what I had in store for her.

With my coat covering her, I pushed her dress higher up around her waist. This left her thighs bare and I took advantage of the pale, sensitive flesh.

Becky was no sun worshipper and she was about as pale as milk, but it worked for her. With her soft ruby lips and minimal makeup, her pale skin looked amazing, And framed in by her dark brown hair she looked spectacular.

My fingers traced a weaving path up her thighs and as they got higher, her breathing became shallower and more rapid.

But I didn’t go right for the bullseye just yet. As I got close, I sort of skipped over that part and moved to her other leg. I knew she expected me to home in on her center, as most men would have.

I wasn’t most men, though. And I knew she wasn’t ready for that quite yet (although I’m pretty sure she had a different standard here for “ready”).

I went back and forth like this, coming aggravatingly close to where she wanted me to be, but at the last moment, diverting my touch and going around the most intimate area. At first, she let out quiet little gasps as I neared, then suddenly passed her.

When I heard a more audible groan from her – a groan of disappointment and frustration – I knew it was time to knock on her door.

Once I was under her Victorian-style dress, I found out she was more pragmatic about what she wore under it.

I don’t think she was quite expecting this turn of events at the party because, rather than wearing the era-specific undies, she went with the comfort and familiarity of regular modern-day panties.

It made sense – from what I understood about the knickers of the time, they weren’t the most comfortable things.

I looked once again into Becky’s eyes and saw just what I wanted to see there. She looked back at me, her eyes darting back and forth, and I saw something in them that told me of her need. She had been alone too long and she was wordlessly asking me to go on.

She may have been afraid to ask or been brought up in a strict household or maybe it was her anxiety disorder that made her hesitant to unable to verbally tell me – we HAD just met only a couple hours ago.

But the pleading look in her eyes and the failure to make any attempt to stop me told me that she wanted me to keep going.

I moved to the next level by rubbing my fingertips across the front of her lacy panties. I could feel the heat coming through them and I knew there was a fire in the furnace.

Becky acknowledged my assumption by spreading her legs as my hand moved to her crotch.

She laid her head back on the high back of our bench seat and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the train and the feelings her own body was sending her.

I kept rubbing the front of her panties and soon I felt her body responding. Subconsciously, she began grinding her hips up at my hand. Barely noticeable at first, her gyrations became more pronounced the more I rubbed her heated mound.

She was breathing heavier now and soft mewling moans were coming from her. She was definitely enjoying what I was doing. I looked down and her hands, which until now had been casually resting on the seat beside her were now splayed out and I could see a tension in them.

She wasn’t curling them into the seat yet or balling them into a fist, but it was obvious she was fighting her building distress. Looking up at her face I could see the same inner struggle.

She was frowning and biting her bottom lip and she tried to be still and not let on that she was raging inside.

I had to admire her stoicism and self-discipline, but I also took it as a challenge – I wanted to show her that, struggle as she might, I would not be denied.

Then I began feeling a dampness in her panties and I knew her body was defying her. Mentally she may be being strong, but her body was surrendering to my efforts. I smiled to myself at this discovery and it encouraged me to up my game once again.

Her demeanor to this point had been one of a shy, reserved, and even submissive girl. And from what she had told me of her family life and her past it seemed to agree with my theory. And so I used this compliancy to my advantage.

I spoke to her in a low deep voice. “I’m going to go under, Becky. Your panties are wet and I want to see how wet you are!” I didn’t tell her I wanted to go into her panties, I said I was going to.

Becky whimpered her response, agreeing to my dominant will. “Please, Daniel...”

My hand slipped under the waistband of her panties and quickly found the source of the heat I had been feeling. Her pussy was indeed wet and hot as a volcano! I felt the damp fur surrounding her slit and the fat swollen lips that bordered her entrance.

Becky gasped as I went inside her panties and she sat upright a little bit, but then relaxed as I began teasing her pussy ... this time without the interference of her panties, getting in the way.

My fingers traced the outline of her pussy, fingering and gently tugging on her lips and running just along the inside of them.

I didn’t plunge into her depths and I purposely neglected her clit too, even though I knew that was what she wanted me to do. Her hands moved up to her hips, holding onto her dress and balling the material up in her hands.

“Good girl. Keep those hands away and let me play.”

“Ohhh...”

Becky did respond to dominance after all – my suspicions were right. With this crucial piece of information, I now had a game plan to work from.

“So you like when a guy takes control, do you? You like being dominated and told what to do?”

She moaned again. “Ohhh...”

“TELL ME!”

“YES! Oh yes, Daniel, I love it! Please ... please dominate me!”

“Yeah, I had a feeling that you were the type that needed a firm hand to watch over and take care of you.”

“Mmm ... being taken care of sounds nice. It’s been a long time since anyone took care of me.”

“How long, Becky. When was the last time someone took care of you?

“I guess it would have to be my father, actually. I had a boyfriend but I can’t honestly say he took care of me. It was more the other way around – I took care of him.

“He was a real mama’s boy and was so used to having his mother do everything for him he didn’t know how to live on his own.

“He couldn’t cook, do the laundry, clean house, or anything. His mother did all that for him and then I came along to do it for him.”

“Yeah, I know the type. But you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been living on my own since I was eighteen years old. Right after high school I moved into my own place and haven’t lived at home since. I would visit all the time but I lived on my own.”