Seduction On The Train (Travel Gal Erotica) - Plot & Excerpts
with her high school sweetheart, but had found it disheartening and not very romantic; in university she had dated a few classmates, but they were all too interested in keg parties or jacking off to think too much about what her needs might be. At first appearance, Leila was what you would call normal: she was neither fat nor skinny, she usually wore her hair back in a ponytail, and she tended toward minimal makeup, jeans and sneakers. She wasn’t a showy kind of gal. Leila was, in fact, enjoyable to look at once you took the time to notice her considerable pleasures. She had warm, frank brown eyes with long lashes that you could melt into; her cheekbones were high, her hair lush and long. She was someone you could lose yourself in if you weren’t careful. Of course, at this point, Leila didn’t realize her powers of seduction nor did she know how to use them. As a serious student who leaned toward the intellectual, she’d never spent a lot of time thinking about her sexuality or what she wanted from a man. She just knew that the furtive fumbling she had had with high school boyfriends and the drunken fucks she had engaged in and regretted with dorm jocks in university didn’t do it for her. In fact, she was at the point in her life where she really had no interest in having a sexual relationship with anyone. None of hers thus far had proved in any way satisfying, and she had no frame of reference for anything different. The few times she had fingered her own self to orgasm had been far in a way more satisfying than any jump in the sack that she had had with any guy. And at least she could engage in her own fantasies when she took care of her own needs. Men? Who needed them? She needed some time on her own, a few engaging discussions with some rich intellectuals she hoped to meet along the way, and some time to unwind and read and sleep and just enjoy the scenery for a while without having any obligations. And so Leila was feeling quite exhilarated as she prepared to enter The Golden Eagle on a briskly cold but sunny Sunday afternoon in November. All of the messy matters of her parents’ estate were cleaned up, and she had said good-bye to her few close friends, knowing they’d stay in contact. She was free to continue her doctoral program in a year’s time. She had no ties. She was free. Free to do as she pleased. Free to go where she pleased. Free to be whom she wanted to be. This last freedom was what she was toying with. It was the one she wasn’t sure about. Who did she want to be? This trip was where she planned to find out. Big questions notwithstanding, Leila was prepared to wile away the next several days enjoying the stark, snowy landscape whilst wrapped in her voluminous sweaters and jeans, with accompanying long underwear, as the train made its gradual ascent into the Ural Mountains. She would ration out her Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy novels so she could finish them upon arriving in Vladivostok. The Russian novelists have writing styles that lend themselves to long train trips.
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