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Message-ID: <43924asstr$1060949402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Daphne Conrad" <dconrad25@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} (RP) A New Dawn - Chapter 1 (MM/F exhib train)
Date: Fri, 15 Aug 2003 08:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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A New Dawn - Chapter 1


   Dawn finished her wine and looked out of the patio windows as the rain
streaked across them.  Across the river a yacht swayed around her anchor.
If it kept on like this there'll be a flood she thought.  Another dark
evening where the sky and horizon fuse together seamlessly.  She could not
discern where the autobahn of the river melded with the brooding air.  She
sighed.

   Phillip looked up, "Go on Dawn, tell Lisa about your Europe trip.  You
haven't told it for ages."

   Lisa was quietly drunk, she shifted in the chair and reached across the
table to pour another wine.  As she did so the full outline of her round
breasts appeared briefly then shifted away against the mottled grey of her
top.  They had told her a few stories of their exploits, and she had come
back each time, less shocked, wanting to hear more.  Obviously the chance
of seeing what lay beneath that grey top was their motivation in telling
these stories, but Dawn got a kick out of reliving them too.  Lisa was an
interesting woman Dawn thought.  On the surface a pretty girl with a good
career ahead of her and a nice boyfriend.  But like the river, there was
more than surface there.  Dawn was convinced Lisa wanted to find it for
herself, had begun to suspect that a life of everything going just as you
expected may not be as fulfilling as she had once envisaged.  Her bright
eyes, sometimes hidden behind the fringe of her carefully cut blond bob
were now dulled by the alcohol, but Dawn could see the spark there still,
in the distance.  A stranger waving from a boat to the shore.  Some Russian
dolls are empty, the external case is their entirety.  Dawn suspected that
Lisa had many nested selves, each more interesting than the previous.
Telling her these stories was the tool she hoped would at least uncover the
join in the first casing.

   Phillip rocked back in his chair.  His full cheeks slightly flushed by
the wine.  The game of monopoly or trivial pursuit they had intended as
after dinner entertainment had not been started, the opened box lay by
Phillip's feet.

   "Okay - you sure you want to hear all the sordid details Lisa?  You'll
never look at me the same again."

   Lisa half giggled, "Oh, I don't think I will anyway after what you told
me last week.  I would like to hear more though, I found them really
interesting."

   Trying not to seem shocked and sound detached, as if they didn't turn
her on.  Dawn knew well enough the effects her stories had on people.
Pouring another glass of wine she placed the empty bottle with the four
others at the centre of the table, the debris of the meal scattered like an
abandoned archaeological dig.  The sunset finally gave up its struggle and
the gloom settled in.  Phillip lit two candles on the mantelpiece, the
sudden acrid smell quickly giving way to the faint lavender aroma from the
wax.

   "Before I start I just want to stress, I'm not telling this to show off.
It is about what happened to me, but I don't think that is the important
part." Phillip and Lisa looked puzzled, to them that was exactly what was
important.  "Rather I think it is more about the effect it had on me.  It
was a light which suddenly illuminated the dark corners of a room and meant
I never looked at things the same again.  But to appreciate the effect you
have to understand where I came from.

   "It was when I was 19.  I'd started university at Birmingham the year
before, so this was my first long vacation.  Since I was a little girl I'd
had a passion for travel books and atlases.  I found the whole idea of
travel impossibly romantic.  And of course I made that pompous distinction
between being a traveller and a tourist.  So, having left home for
University I had planned to go Inter-railing around Europe with a friend
from home.  I wanted to see all of the beautiful cities, experience the
light the artists are always enraptured by and saturate myself in rich
culture.  I wanted experience, I wanted to stop being young, na ve and
innocent and become mature, wise and experienced.  Anyway my friend cried
off at the last minute, I guess I always knew she would.  She wanted to
think she could go, without ever actually doing it.

   "You've got to understand I grew up in Little Vale - it's a small
village in Somerset.  Before that summer I'd had the usual sort of travel -
some holidays in France and Spain with parents and friends.

   None of them counted as travelling though.  I'd also had the usual
sexual experience - a few semi-serious boyfriends and stuff.  I guess I
must have had sex with three different men by that time, always in a
relationship.  I liked sex enough, but like a lot of girls from sheltered
backgrounds, I didn't think I should think about it too much.

   "Anyway I'd completed my first year at college, where I'd had a three
month relationship with a very serious boy.  My parents thought I'd be
coming home for summer, but I couldn't face it.  You know how it is when
you leave a small place, you need to get away for good.  Plus you get a bit
full of yourself at that age.  I thought I'd already seen more than my
parents ever would, and I was ready to travel the world.  An aunt had died
and left me some money, so I had some savings, I spoke German fairly well
and thought I could get some work, so I planned to stay away for the whole
3 months if possible.  I lied to my parents, and said there was a group of
us going.  They'd never have let me go on my own.

   "So exams finished at the end of May, and within forty eight hours I was
off.

   "My first week or so was pretty uneventful.  I travelled down through
France, spending a few days in Paris.  I was relieved to find it easy to
get cheap accommodation.  I also found I didn't feel threatened.

   Europeans are more gregarious than us Brits, so I found it easy to chat
to people on trains.  I had an interesting journey down from Paris to Nice
in an overnight train.  I was in a cabin with two old women who knitted
furiously, and a young German chap who seemed hyperactive.  He said he
hated travelling by train since he was a sleepwalker, so would fall asleep
and then find himself in the bar or dining room.  I didn't believe him, but
the old women nodded sympathetically, although I don't think they
understood English or German.  They gave me a small square of their
knitting when I left.  I don't know what I was supposed to do with it,
being about the size of a handkerchief.  It was mainly yellow with red
weave.  `Bonne chance' they said and I waved the knitting at them.  Still
this was the type of encounter I thought I was after.  When I was in Paris
I had joined a group of French people my own age for a few drinks.  They'd
made me feel welcome and we'd spent a nice day around the Louvre.  By the
time I entered Italy, I wasn't worried that I'd be frightened, or lonely
and end up back home with my tail between my legs.  I was feeling confident
and ready for experience.

   "It was in this frame of mind I sat in a carriage heading towards
Florence.  We'd just pulled away from the station and it wasn't due to stop
for another two hours so I thought I'd get some sleep.

   "I was just nodding off when the door slip open, and two chaps entered,
one about 50, and the other about 25.  They were dressed casually, although
I thought the younger one looked a bit of a mummy's boy, with a smart
jumper and shirt underneath.  They nodded politely and sat at the far end
of the carriage.  Like most trains in Europe this one had a corridor down
the side and small compartments from that.  Each seated about 12 people.  I
had already learnt that if you pulled the curtains closed people were less
likely to come in, unless all carriages were full.  As it wasn't yet
holiday season, most trains were still half empty.

   "I was trying to sleep, but I kept getting the feeling I was being
stared at.  I looked up a couple of times and the old man looked away
hurriedly.  But then I would feel his gaze on me again, very intense.  I
looked up a third time and this time glared back defiantly.  The younger
man spoke hurriedly to the older one, chastising him.  Then he turned to
me, `Please, I'm very sorry.  Do not be angry.  He does not mean any harm.'
He spoke with a heavy Italian accent, obviously, but his English was pretty
good.

   `Well it's not very nice being stared at,' I said, although not too
angrily as the old man looked sheepish and kind of sad.

   "The younger one continued, `Please, let me explain.  It is just that my
uncle, he thinks you remind him very much of his wife.  She died ten years
ago, and he still mourns her.'

   `Oh,' I didn't know what to say.  Seeing the uncle shaking his slowly, I
said `that's okay, you can look then.' I tried to offer him a smile.

   "The nephew spoke in Italian to his uncle again, who looked up and
smiled back weakly, `Grazi Signora.' He looked at me again for a few
minutes, which was quite uncomfortable, since I didn't know what to do with
myself.  I pretended to look out of the window, but you know how it is when
you know someone is looking at you, it's very hard to be natural.

   "Eventually I thought I couldn't just sit there and be stared at, so I
introduced myself.  The uncle was Franco and the nephew Mario.  I asked
some more about his wife, and the son translated for me, `she had deep,
rich red hair like yours, with soft curls.  About the same length.  It is
very unusual for an Italian to have red hair, and all the men in the
village wanted her.  But she chose my uncle, and they were married when
they were 19.  How old are you?'

   "I told him, and the nephew sighed, `You see, you are the same age as
when they were married, and that is how he remembers her the most.  I have
seen the wedding photographs and it is true, you do look like her very
much. Your hair, face and body are all the same.'

   "The old man spoke some more, getting quite excited.  `She was tall like
you, what are you 1.8 metres?'

   I had to do the conversion from feet and inches, but he was about right.

   "Then the conversation died away, and I resumed looking out of the
window whilst being occasionally stared at.  The two of them had a short
exchange, and the old man seemed to be arguing.  The nephew sighed with
resignation and turned to me, `Dawn, excuse me, I am most embarrassed, but
my uncle, he has begged me to ask you.  So I have said that I will, but
please just say no, then he will be quiet.'

   `So, what is it?' I asked cautiously.  I thought this was getting a
little odd now, but I didn't feel threatened or worried.

   `He wants to know if he can stroke your hair.' I obviously looked
surprised.

   `I know, I know, but he used to do it to his wife, and says it was his
favourite thing.  He says it would make him very happy, but he knows it may
be offensive to you.'

   `Well, not offensive.  Oh, okay, he can, just for a minute or so.'

   "Franco didn't need translation.  He nodded vigorously, `Grazi, grazi.'

   Dawn looked up from the table, she had been staring at the last of the
cheese on her plate, not making eye contact so she could concentrate on all
the details.  "You'll have to forgive me, I don't speak Italian.

   They probably said more than this, but I can only impart clich s on
them. So just pretend there is a flow of seductive Italian dialogue
surrounding any of quotes."

   She then returned her focus to the table, and recommenced the story, "He
came and sat on the seat next to me.  I inclined my head towards him.  My
hair was longer then, just below my shoulders.  I must admit I was rather
proud of it, it attracted a lot of attention.  Because I'd been travelling
I hadn't washed it as much as usual, and this had actually improved its
colour.  It was very rich with a nice lustre to it.  Franco placed one hand
underneath it, and stroked downwards, very softly, saying things like
`Bella, bella.' It was quite soothing actually.  He never touched me, just
my hair.  After a minute or so Mario told him to stop, and he did.  I
looked at him and smiled, and he again offered his profuse thanks.

   "After a while Franco spoke to Mario again and there was more
disagreement, this time more vociferous, but it ended the same way, with
Mario sighing in resignation.  I knew it involved me, so I waited for
Mario. `I am sorry, my uncle, he misses his wife very much, and it makes
him sad to see you.  He knows he is wrong to ask, but he knows he will
never have this opportunity again and will regret it forever if he does
not. So, he has asked me to ask you - would you take off your top for him?'

   `What?' Although I acted shocked, from the first hair stroking request I
was suspecting this.  Franco's gaze had not been entirely confined to my
face.  It was still a shock to actually hear it though.  One often thinks
or fantasises but there is a definite line between that and the actual act.
Having those words spoken crossed that threshold.  The words seem to occupy
the carriage as the Tuscan scenery passed by, unaffected by my dilemma.  It
was a purely internal dilemma.  It was whether I wanted to cross that
threshold or not.  And not just then, not just with these men, but ever.

   "Mario was hurrying to explain `He loved his wife's breasts very much,
and they would spend many hours walking in the woods near his village.  She
would often take off her top, to feel the sun on her skin and the sight of
her used to make him cry.  He says you are just like her, and he thinks
your breasts would be the same type.  It would make him feel as though she
has never left him.'

   "Of course I should have slapped him and walked out, or called the
guard. But I didn't.  And in that one pause then they knew what my response
would be.  The debate I was having with myself was with the daughter of my
parents and the new, adventurous girl who would experience the world.  I
thought this was the type of experience the new me would not shy away from
so I said, `okay, just a quick look, then I'll button back up.' I was
wearing a baggy, short sleeve shirt, tied around my waist, and long shorts.
I undid my shirt and opened it up.  My breasts were firmer then, still
large though, a C cup probably whereas now they're a D.  Unlike now they
could stand upright on their own, and the nipples pointed upwards.  I was
wearing a black bra, which forced them together slightly, giving a long
smooth cleavage.  I don't want to be immodest, but they were nice breasts,
and as I looked down at them then I realised it for the first time ever
really.  When you're young you take these things for granted.I swivelled
towards them leaning back in the chair so they could appreciate them too.
Franco just whispered, `Mamma mia' and Mario nodded slowly.  The uncle
spoke some more and Mario translated, `He says they are beautiful, perhaps
more beautiful than his wife's even.  He had never thought he would see
such beauty again.  He thanks you for making an old man believe in beauty
once again.'

   "I blushed, his compliments had embarrassed me more than my
semi-nakedness, `why, thankyou.' I made to do up my shirt again.  The two
men had not taken their eyes from my breasts.  As I moved the old man spoke
rapidly and Mario translated, `please, can you just sit like that for a
while.  He cannot bear to be parted from them just yet.'

   `But what if someone comes?' I asked.

   `Oh, no-one will come now.  The train does not stop again for hours, and
the guard has been round once.  This is the quiet stretch when everyone
sleeps.' `Okay,' I said and sat back.  What do you do when you're sitting
there with your shirt open and two men staring at your breasts?  If it was
difficult to look out of the window before and pretend I wasn't noticing it
was impossible now.

   `So was his wife very beautiful then?' I asked, just trying to avert
their eyes.

   `Yes, he says that she was beautiful and sexy.  Her lovely breasts, like
yours, were coveted by all the men, but only he ever played with them.  He
treated them like religious objects, caressing them every night.  Now he
says he still goes to sleep caressing his pillow imagining his wife's
beautiful breasts, but the years have dimmed the memory.'

   `That's very sweet.'

   `He says his wife had very large round nipples, a soft red colour.  Are
yours like that?'

   "I laughed, but they expected an answer.  `Yes, I suppose so.'

   `He says he knows you have done more than any sweet girl should have,
but just one last request.  Can he see your breasts in full?  Then when he
sleeps tonight he can imagine his wife like it was the first time again.'

   I didn't even argue this time.  `Keep a look-out then.  Just one look
and then all this goes back on okay?'

   `Yes, we understand.'

   "I reached behind and undid my bra.  It didn't fall off immediately,
just slipped forward.  I shrugged my shoulders and the straps fell down and
I slipped my arms out.  My nipples were slightly distended, having had two
men stare at me for twenty minutes had aroused me a little.

   `He says you have the body of an angel.  It is truly a gift that you
should share it with us.  You are an angel of mercy and he thanks you for
your goodness.  Please can you stand up, so he can get a full view.'

   "I stood up, and leant forward just slightly, so the undercarriage of my
breasts pulled away from my ribcage.  They swayed slightly with the rhythm
of the train.  Then I leant back again, so my breasts sat upright on my
chest, tumbling softly to the side."

   As she told it, Dawn mimicked the movements, leaning across the table,
then back in her chair slightly.

   Under her jumper little movement could be seen, but both Lisa and
Phillip gazed with affectionate smiles at her chest as she did so.  Lisa
took one of Dawn's cigarettes.  She only smoked when drunk.

   "I can't believe you're stripping off in front of these two strangers.
Didn't it scare you?"

   Dawn didn't like to be interrupted during her stories.  She was a
strictly questions-at-the-end speaker.  She almost had to refocus on Lisa.

   "Hmm?  No, not at all.  I felt strangely empowered actually.  I mean I
know it can get out of control, but from the start I felt very peaceful
about it all.  I didn't really describe Mario and Franco.  If you'd seen
them you'd know they might be horny, but they'd never be violent.  You can
spot it easily, well I think you can.  I've done all sorts of things, but
never had any trouble like that.  You set the ground rules in the first
interactions, the movements.  I never let men get carried away.  I detest
filthy talk, so if one starts saying things like "suck it you bitch" I walk
away.  Most of them are only trying it on, they've read about it, and
they've heard some girls like it.  If you claim the territory then they're
quite happy to go along with it.  I don't pick hunks, army types or blokes
who spend hours in the gym - they are the ones whose ego will get you in
trouble.  They need to be in control, need to show you they're in control.
The soft types I pick are nearly always grateful.

   "I said Mario was a mummy's boy.  He had that thick black hair Italian
men have, greased back.  He had gorgeous big brown eyes, very doleful, and
a soft mouth.  When I took of my bra he sighed with just utter happiness.
Franco, although fiftyish was a smart man still, with nicely greying hair
around the sides.  He had an intense but sorrowful look, sort of like Omar
Sherif.  You wanted to cuddle him and tell him it would all be okay.
That's why I went along with it first of all, I felt like I could relieve
some of his pain." "Yes, but you were hardly in control were you?  I mean
they were telling you what to do."

   "Sort of.  I know I could have walked out at anytime.  After the hair
stroke I knew it was going to progress, and I wanted to test myself, to see
how far I would let it go.  I was surprised that I took my bra off.  But
when I saw their adoring faces I didn't regret it."

   "Let her continue Lisa, it gets really good now." Phil was smiling at
Dawn, he then looked across at Lisa, and watched as she sat back, the
smooth glide of her breasts like turtles threatening to break the surface.
Dawn knew he wanted to see them, as did she.  They had talked about it and
for the past three Fridays Lisa had come for dinner, each time getting
drunk and they had become more daring in the stories they'd told her.  Dawn
had also noticed that each time Lisa had dressed just a bit sexier.
Nothing obvious, but the first time had been a baggy jumper and jeans.
Then it had been a slightly hugging white blouse and tight trousers.
Tonight it was a cotton and latex top, which hugged her ample chest, and
push up bra underneath which seemed a size too small, since Dawn could
detect a bulge at its lip.  A knee length skirt and calf-high boots gave an
overall sense of her being almost on the pull.

   "Anyway, I sat down again and made a play of picking my bra back up from
the floor.  Mario's hand dashed out, not touching me, but just to plead
with me to stop.  `Please' he said.  This hadn't come from Franco.  I
almost smiled.  It was the first independent action he had shown.  I was
glad I had had an effect not just on the older generation.  In truth I knew
they would want me to sit there for a while and I was happy to.  I just sat
quietly, letting them observe the soft jiggle of the train transmuted
through my breasts.  I had never felt so admired, so appreciated.  Most
boys had fumbled with my breasts and come quickly when we had sex.  None
had worshipped me for ages, just looking.  " There was some more
conversation between Mario and Franco.  I waited for the next request.  I
was feeling so turned on now I knew the answer to my question about how far
I would let it go.

   `Dawn, you truly have the best breasts I have ever seen.  But my uncle
he says, please can he just touch them.  Just feel your soft skin.'

   "I teased them a bit, `Well, I don't know...I don't think I should.
He's quite old and what if someone came along?  I don't usually do this
sort of thing.'

   `We know, we can see you are not that sort of girl.  Which is why we
must ask.  It is what will make the honour so great.  For my uncle it will
be like the untarnished skin of his dear wife.  To know you are such a
sweet girl is what makes it so meaningful for him.'

   "I nodded.  `Okay then, just a little touch.' I turned towards him and
he took my right breast and gently lifted it up, taking the weight of it.
He rolled his thumb over the nipple and then his palm.  He traced its
outline and then moved onto the left breast, where he did the same.  The
contrast of his slightly wrinkled hands against my smooth white skin was
actually quite exciting.  Although he didn't speak, Mario put in another
request for him, `please can he kiss your breasts.  He wants to see if they
taste the same as his wife's.'

   "I nodded, `mmhmm'.

   "He inclined his head and kissed the cleavage.  Then he took my right
nipple in his mouth and gently pulled on it.  His tongue glided across its
tip and then away.  I heaved my chest.  He moved to the left breast and
this time traced around the areoloe with his tongue, before stroking the
nipple with his lips.

   Then he sat back and looked in my face.  `Bella' he whispered, `bella.'

   "I looked down and my chest was rising and falling quite heavily now.
There was a shine of moisture on both nipples.  I was tempted to rub them
myself, but decided to wait.  We sat there for another ten minutes, all of
us looking at my breasts.  That's what amazes me even now, the time we just
sat there in silence.  I was about to speak, or to redress when they had
another brief conversation.  Mario had stopped arguing with his uncle.  He
just nodded in agreement now.

   `Please Dawn.  You have already done us both a great honour, but now we
have come this far my uncle feels he has to ask.  Can he see your
"honeypot".  That is what he used to call his wife's and he says he adored
it.  He knows you will have a beautiful one too and it would make him very
happy to see it.'

   `And you?' I asked, `what about you?'

   "He blushed if you can believe it.  `Yes Dawn, it would make me more
happy than I can say.'

   `In that case, I suppose I ought to then.  But after this I get dressed
again, since someone is bound to come along soon.' I clumsily took off my
walking boots first, then I stood up and undid my shorts.  I was wearing
some rather unflattering knickers - I hadn't expected to be giving a show
after all and had dressed for travel comfort.  I quickly slipped them off
and stood naked before the two men.  They looked at my feet and then
travelled up with their gaze.  I didn't feel awkward and made a show of not
feeling uncomfortable.

   "The old man started to cry and muttering.  `He says you are beautiful,
truly beautiful.  Your honeypot is just like his wife's.  He says that men
do not deserve such beauty.  He says that you must remember that what you
have is a gift and that by sharing it with men such as us, you make the
world a better place.'

   "I could have laughed, it was so corny, but when it's said to you in a
strong Italian accent with an old man crying, it's hard not to be moved and
flattered by it.  I sat on the other side of the old man, next to Mario and
reached across, patting his knee.

   `Don't cry,' I said.  `It's okay.' He sniffled a bit then came and sat
next to me.  So there I was, naked on a train, with a man either side of me
gazing adoringly at my body.  I had never felt so alive.

   "They both rested their hands on my thighs and left them there, gazing
down at my honeypot, then to my breasts, then back again.  `Dawn..' Mario
began, but I placed a finger on his lips to silence him.

   `Mario, the answer is yes from now on.'

   "He nodded, understanding.  Franco's hand moved up my thigh and I parted
my legs.  I leant back closing my eyes.  Somehow I knew this would make it
easier for all of us.  Franco was gently rubbing my pubic region.  Then he
slid a finger in just up to the first joint.  I was quite moist by now.  I
opened my legs a bit more.  He withdrew his finger and traced upwards,
gently folding away my lips and brushing my clitoris with some moisture.  I
opened one eye and Mario was just watching, like a child in biology class.

   "Franco then rubbed my clitoris with the base of his finger while
sliding the rest across my entrance.  It was very slow and deliberate.  He
then took my hand and placed it on his lap.  I felt the bulge and squeezed
it tenderly.  As he slid a finger in deeper I undid his fly and fished out
his erect penis.  It came out quite easily.  I took a look at it.  It
didn't look particularly different from any of the younger men's I had
seen. It was about average size and standing upright, although not bursting
like my previous boyfriend's had been whenever I had got it out.  I slowly
stroked the foreskin back.  He looked at my face and smiled.  Then he leant
over and whilst rubbing my clitoris with his moist finger kissed and
cradled my breasts.

   "Then I did something which slightly surprised them I think and was one
of those actions by which you take control.  I reached over and stroked
Mario's cock through his trousers while still wanking Franco.

   Mario moaned slightly and made to take my hand away, but instead I found
his zip and undid him.  I had to fish around for it through his pants,
which almost rendered the situation too real.  There was a dreamlike
quality to all of this and as long as that was maintained it was fine.  But
it was a gossamer structure, any comic fumblings would be enough to shatter
it and make me see it for what it was.  And I didn't want that.  So it was
with some relief I retrieved Mario's penis through the fly of his boxer
shorts.  I then began wanking him slowly too, although that was with my
left hand, so it was difficult to maintain a natural rhythm.  Mario
responded by placing his hand under his uncle's and sliding two fingers
into my honeypot.  I moaned softly in encouragement.  He then leant forward
and like Franco began sucking on my breast.  I now had a cock in each hand,
a mouth on each breast and two hands caressing my pussy."

   Dawn smiled at the memory, her eyes half closed.  Then she looked
directly at Lisa and joking asked "Not many women can say that sentence.
Could you?"

   Lisa tried to act superior, "No, but then maybe I don't want to."

   Dawn poured some more wine which Phil had opened as she'd talked.  She
hadn't even noticed him do it, or that she had finished her last glass.
She wanted Lisa to realise for herself how much she wanted to hear the
story.  Dawn tilted the glass, "is this the same wine?  Tastes different."

   Phil examined the label, "yeah, I think so.  Do you want me to open
another?"

   "No, that's fine."

   "Come on Dawn, you can't leave it there." Lisa pleaded.

   Dawn and Phillip smirked at her, "Okay, where was I?

   "So I am leaning back letting these men touch and kiss me all over.
Moving to the next stage, although inevitable, was delicate too.  It was
another of those moments when the dreamlike nature of the scenario could be
destroyed.  I shifted over my seat, sitting on the arm of the chair between
Franco and me.  Then I guided myself onto his penis, my back to him.  It
slipped in quite easily and by using the armrests I could lift myself up
and down without crushing down on his lap.  He reached around and cupped
both breasts.  I didn't look at Mario, but I guess he was wanking.  I
couldn't really feel Franco inside me much to be honest, because of the
position we were in, he didn't get much penetration.  But that doesn't
matter, the physical feeling is such a matter of psychology anyway.  And I
had created a wonderful scenario, where I was the author.  The rush I felt
was one of creativity more than sexuality.  Thinking this I had
unconsciously increased my speed and suddenly Franco released my breasts
and grabbed the armrests, gripping them and twisting his hands around the
sides.  He juddered like a stalling car and came.  I didn't feel too much
of his come inside me, but I slowed down and then peeled myself off.  I
looked at Mario now and he wasn't wanking anymore, but was looking at me
with an imploring face.  I couldn't say no.  I stroked his penis underneath
and kissed him.  This was actually the first kiss we'd exchanged.  I stood
up leaning towards Franco, my hands on the armrests.

   Mario stood behind me, although it was rather awkward in the narrow
carriage.  He entered me easily and we began rocking backwards and
forwards. I was turned on by the thought of how sexy this must look for
Franco, my beautiful breasts swaying before him as I closed my eyes in
pleasure.  I felt disembodied, a witness to this erotic scene and that made
me all the more aroused.

   "I thought Mario would be too rushed, like most of my previous
encounters.  But he took his time, allowing the train's motion to sometimes
dictate our own and then working against it.  But it was soon apparent both
of us would come quickly and I leant further downward, so my face was only
inches from Franco's.  Mario increased his rhythm and I pushed my bum back
at him.  Then I felt a buckling in my stomach and I bit my lip and twisted
my head as I came.  It seemed to go on for ages, little bunny flips working
up my body.  I'm not particularly noisy when I come, so I just bit my lip
some more and let out a little squeal.  It was only a minute I guess, but
like pain, that's a lot for intense pleasure.  Mario came somewhere in that
time, but I didn't really notice.  I almost forgot to breathe at one point
and then took some big gulps of air.

   "It was a strange time then.  A sudden feeling of intense shame and
embarrassment came over me.  I didn't want to be naked in front of these
men, I wanted to be home.  I wanted to confess to my mother.  I sat in my
original chair and hurriedly tried to gather my clothes.  I needed to wipe
myself and poking from the top of my rucksack was the edge of the yellow
woollen gift the two French women had given me.  I snatched it out and
tried to wipe away any excess before putting my knickers back on.  I don't
suppose those women had envisaged this use for their gift.  It was
surprisingly soft actually, not at all itchy.  Seeing me flustered Franco
handed me his white handkerchief and began speaking softly.  Mario, zipping
himself back up, translated, `do not feel ashamed.  What you have done is a
good thing.  Bodies like yours are the work of God.  To share them is to
take communion.  Never be ashamed of what you do.  Your biggest crime would
be to give yourself to just one man, one who does not appreciate you.  I
often feel this of my wife.  I loved her but I was not worthy.  I feel a
guilt that she passed from this world and only I had ever truly been able
to appreciate her.  While you are young and free, you should realise your
potential.'

   "It was, of course, the sort of thing men say to try and encourage
beautiful girls to let them fuck them, but it was said tenderly.  It was
exactly what I needed to hear then.  I cried a little and said thank you. I
put my clothes back on and they turned away while I did so.  I used
Franco's handkerchief to blow my nose.  I offered it back to him and he
laughed, waving his hand.  `It is the least he can give you he says.'

   "We sat awkwardly then.  Franco took out a hip flask and offered me
some. It was brandy, which I didn't drink back then, but this was no time
to stick with traditions.  I took a nice gulp and felt better.

   He then offered me a cigarette.  I didn't smoke either, but I thought
this was a good time to start.

   "Strangely we then had a very polite conversation about where I was
going, the places to see, what their home town was like, and so on.
Exactly the sort of conversation you have in any train over Europe.  As if
we hadn't just fucked each other.  It was very sweet actually.  Soon the
train came into their stop.  They both kissed me, said thank you and Franco
gave me his cigarettes.

   "I sat watching the platform, feeling quite good about myself now and
looking forward to reflecting upon what had just happened.  I saw Mario and
Franco on the platform and made to wave, but then I saw two women of
similar ages approach them.  The one of Franco's age kissed him and
embraced him with the affection and everyday casualness of a wife.  So did
the woman with Mario.  As the two women walked away with Franco, Mario
turned to look back.  He saw me looking with a puzzled expression.

   He raised his eyebrows and shrugged mischievously, then caught up with
the rest.

   "I sat back frantically lighting another cigarette.  I had lots of
questions, and then the obvious answer came to me.  I felt stupid.  So it
was all a con.  He wasn't widowed.  They'd made it all up to seduce me.  I
was momentarily angry, but this passed.  I laughed to myself.  Those tricky
men.  Somehow it made it even better.  I guess somewhere I had known but
didn't want to acknowledge it.  This was something I would manufacture many
times again, this being seduced.  What better feeling is there?"

   There was a silence.  Dawn slowly returned from her reverie to the room,
the present.  She looked up and smiled.

   "Wow," Lisa said.  "Some story.  Is it really true?  You're not just
making it up?  Sounds like something from a porno."

   "It's true Lisa.  You don't have to believe me.  I wouldn't have.  But
then you understand this sort of thing isn't as uncommon as you think.
That is what I came to realise shortly afterwards from Antonia and
Marcello. That there is another world, that there are many other worlds all
operating around us.  Sometimes you fall into one accidentally, sometimes
you go looking for it.  I think I was crying out for one.  Not this one of
erotic adventure particularly.  I was just open, I needed something and the
first thing that came along which was significantly different from my home
life I latched onto.  If I had met a nice Italian lad I probably would have
fallen in love and married him.  If someone had offered me drugs I would
have become a junkie.  I was an experience waiting to happen.  I sometimes
wonder how obvious it was.  I'm sure I've detected it since.  I just
happened to get two horny men who were expert in fantasy seduction.  That
one event had an impact on everything that happened to me afterwards.  You
could say it was bad luck, but it's better than some lifestyles I could
have happened upon.

   "But even given that experience I might have written it off as a one-off
and carried on as normal, had it not been for what happened next."

   "There's more?" Lisa asked excitedly.  She checked her watch.

   "Do you have to go?" Phillip enquired.

   "No, it's okay.  I told Steve we'd be drinking so not to expect me.
He's out with the football lads so they'll go for a curry afterwards
anyway. I've got plenty of time.

   "Before you carry on though Dawn, I've got to ask you this.  You
probably think it's really prudish of me - but didn't you use condoms?
This was around 1990 right?  We'd just had a decade of AIDS, weren't you
worried?" Dawn nodded vigorously, "oh, absolutely.  Obviously I was on the
pill, I'm not that stupid.  But when I realised they'd be con artists my I
thought it was funny first of all.  I think everyone appreciates a good con
and it hadn't hurt me.  Far from it, I'd enjoyed it immensely.  But then I
thought they must have done it before, what about infection?  At the time,
just before I slid onto Franco's cock it briefly crossed my mind.  But I
dismissed it, not even allowing it to register really.  It was part of that
whole delicate structure.  I knew fishing in my rucksack for my condoms
would give me too much time for reflection.  I can't explain it - by doing
that I would be the little slut I didn't want to think of myself as.  By
not doing it I was part of a more romantic, beautiful moment.  That was
part of my naivety, the price I needed to pay to make that transition.
Afterwards I was so scared though.

   For days afterwards I would keep imagining itches, rashes, and nausea. I
think anyone who doesn't use a condom is so stupid now.  All I can say in
my defence is that was one of the last times.  I always carried them with
me after that in an easily accessible place.  I became very adept at
opening them and sliding them without too much disruption to the moment.
I've walked away from a situation where men have refused to wear them.  So
I got lucky that time."

   Lisa nodded, obviously satisfied.  "Sorry, I had to ask.  So what
happened next?"

   "Nothing as exciting, but quite significant nonetheless.  I had been
sitting there for about ten minutes thinking about what had happened,
worrying about disease and trying to put my feelings in place.  Did you
ever have that?  Something happens and you can't tell whether you really
like it or hate it.  I oscillated between feeling disgusted with myself and
with sex in general and feeling absolutely fantastic and amazed by my own
power and audacity.  I was just beginning to conclude that I should stop
thinking about it and let it settle in for a while.  It was still too
recent to make any sensible conclusions.

   "The door opened and the conductor entered.  I had a sudden flush of
panic and embarrassment.  This was the first person I'd seen since and I
thought it must be apparent to everyone.  Perhaps I'd be arrested.  I also
couldn't remember where I'd put my rail pass.  He waited patiently.  When I
began to get a bit panicky he said touched my arm and said soothingly "It's
okay - can I sit?"

   "I looked at him, actually acknowledging him for the first time.  He
looked in his late thirties, about my height with a slight paunch coming.
He lifted off his hat which he placed on the chair next to him as he sat
down.  He tried to adjust his hair which had been sweating under the cap.

   "He spoke very slowly, his English wasn't good, but if he thought about
it carefully he could manage to say what he needed.  "Are you okay?"

   "I nodded, `yes, fine.  I just can't remember where I put my railcard. I
have one, it's here somewhere.'

   `Do not worry about the railcard, I see it before.  Are you okay after
Franco and Mario.'

   "I was stunned.  He knew.  How did he know?  `Err, yes.' Although I knew
that he knew, it was obvious by the way he checked around the carriage and
looked at me carefully.  But I needed to be sure.  `Do you know them?'

   "He looked sheepish, `Yes, it is because of me...' he trailed off and I
didn't get it still.

   `What do you mean?'

   "They play uncle and nephew.  They come on this train two months before.
Then two months before.  Always two months.  For ten years now.  They do
not have luck sometimes.  Five years ago I catch them with a woman.  They
tell me their story.  It is very exciting.  I do not throw them off.  Then
next time they ask me - `where is there a woman who looks possible?'.  So I
tell them and they have luck.  Then every time I know they are coming I
look for a woman.  She must be on her own and must have that...I do not
know how to say it?'

   `Look - she must have a look that says she wants something.'

   "He nodded, smiling, `yes, a look.  It is often older women.  Married
women who want excitement.  They are not as young and beautiful as you.  I
did not think they would be successful with you, but I saw the look in you.
I am sorry, it was not fair.  You are too young and innocent.  I feel
guilty.'

   "So there it was.  I had been so obvious the conductor picked me out.
It's terribly depressing to discover your one great act of spontaneity was
so predictable.  I wasn't angry though.  It made me feel less disgusted
with myself.  If it had been that apparent then I must have needed
something mustn't I?  `It's okay' I told him.  `I enjoyed it I think.'

   `Good, good.  They are not bad men.  They would never you know, hurt
anyone.  They like to talk.  Sometimes when they are not lucky they talk to
the woman for a long time anyway.'

   `Can I ask you something?' I'm not sure he understood me, so I asked
anyway, `why do you find women for them?  What do you get out of it?'

   `Why I do it?  I like thinking of it.  I tell my wife.  She likes it
too. We have been married eighteen years now.  It is necessary to make it
sexy.  Do you understand?'

   `Yes I suppose so.' What did I know, I was only nineteen.

   `Where are you going?' he asked.

   `Florence first and then Rome.' That was my plan anyway.

   `We live outside Florence.  Do you have room tonight?  You can stay with
us.  My wife would like to meet you.'

   "I thought this sounded very suspicious.  I'd done one reckless thing
that day, but going back to a stranger's house was pushing things too far.
He obviously knew what I was thinking, `sorry I understand.  It would be
dangerous for you.  Please, we are normal people, it is okay.  My wife, it
would help her imagine the story if she can see you.  It would be nice for
us.  She is a good cook.'

   "I considered it.  I believed him, his manner and expression were all
genuine.  I knew I wasn't going to be locked in a dungeon and tortured.
The worst I thought was that they might want me to engage in a threesome
with them, but my feeling was if I said no, that would be okay.  I decided
I would chance it.  When I told him he clasped my hand, `thankyou, very
good, very good.  I will go now and come back at Florence.' With that he
left.  I tried not to let myself worry about my decision.  My instinct said
it was okay but now he was gone my rational mind tried to talk me out of
it. I was just beginning to think I'd move carriage when the train pulled
in at Florence.  The conductor reappeared.  `Okay?' he asked nervously.
`Okay' I smiled weakly.

   "We drove out of Florence in his Fiat Panda.  The traffic was of course
ridiculously heavy and it was the first time I had appreciated how out of
time these ancient cities were, just how unprepared they were for the
demands of modern life.  He told me his name was Marcello and that he'd met
his wife, Antonia, when he was sixteen.  They had married when they were
eighteen, although her parents didn't like him.  She was from a good family
and his family had always worked on the trains.  They didn't have any
children, despite trying and this was an oddity in Italy.  This further
convinced her family that he wasn't good enough for their daughter.  They
were happy though, except he worried that he couldn't quite provide for his
wife as she would like.  She never said anything but he knew that she would
like to spend more on clothes.  I think these erotic stories he returned
with were like a gift he brought her.  Which is why he was so pleased I
came back with him.

   "Once we'd cleared the main part of Florence we were soon in the country
and twenty minutes later we entered a village and pulled up in a small
alley no wider than the car.  Their house was an old three storey affair
which leaned into the alley.  Bright blue shutters were open against the
beaten white walls.  It was the sort of place most English people go potty
for as a rural holiday home.  Some kids and dogs ran past.  Marcello
ushered me in, and immediately up the stairs.  Before I reached the top a
woman appeared, wiping her hands on a towel.  She looked shocked to see me
and Marcello darted past me and some quick exchanges followed.  Although I
obviously didn't understand it, I could tell his wife moved from
indignation to interest.  She beckoned me to come up and kissed me on the
cheek.  "Hello," she said in very good English "my name is Antonia.".  I
guess she had been well educated when young and that Marcello had probably
learnt his English from her.  She was a striking woman, with strong
features - a very well defined jaw and nose.  Her hair was died blond and
set.  She had a heavy, but featureless bosom, like a bolster across here
chest.  She wore some eye make-up and I guessed she usually wore more than
that.  She would usually not let herself be seen in what she would no doubt
think of as a state by guests.  She was just beginning to put on some
weight, but I thought she must have had a very good figure.  I could see
that her marriage with Marcello would have caused problems.  Even now she
looked as though she should be dressed in Gucci.  But she had a friendly,
open manner, which I think would have meant she was out of place with the
cold, aloof women of her own circle.

   `My husband is very rude.  He has not told me your name.'

   `Dawn,' I said, being guided into their main room.  It was lovingly
decorated, with sumptuous red velvet sofa and curtains.  There were lots of
small, intriguing objects placed around, which told you that Antonia spent
a lot of time and energy in making this place the way she wanted it.
Denied the expansive, and expensive, canvas of a house in Milan, she had
found herself in the details.  `Your house is lovely.'

   "She showed me to my room for the night.  It was decorated in the same
style, very heavy, rich and slightly overdone, but tasteful nonetheless.  I
dumped my rucksack on the bed and she directed me to the shower.  When she
mentioned the shower it all came back to me of course.  I hadn't washed
since the train.  I felt dirty and disgraced all over again.  The shower
revived me though.  I still didn't have a clear idea of how the evening
would go.  I didn't want any more sexual adventures just then and the
thought of these two, nice people groping me only made me feel even more
sordid.  I took a few deep breaths and went back into the lounge.  I knew
they had been talking about me, but I tried to appear as though I didn't
know.  Stupid really, but I wanted to pretend everything was normal.
Antonia had poured us some drinks and while dinner was cooking we chatted
out by the window.  I told her of my plans for the trip, my year at college
and my home town.  Marcello hovered around, but he couldn't keep up with
the English.  They both disappeared to the kitchen once for a high speed
conversation, which I guessed I was the subject of.  I had almost forgotten
the manner in which Marcello and I had met.  I was simply the guest of some
pleasant Italians.

   "We had a plate of pesto spaghetti, - incidentally that was the first
time I'd every had good pasta.  It had always been spaghetti bolognaise
with too much sauce before then.  It really made me appreciate the pleasure
in simple ingredients, and subtle use of quantities.  It's still one of my
favourite meals.  This was followed by lamb in rosemary.  We chatted away
over dinner, sipping wine and water.  Antonia had stayed with relatives in
South Wales for a while and had done some sightseeing.  I was beginning to
think nothing would be mentioned of my little episode on the train.  Then
Marcello brought out some espresso, and while I was stirring my sugar in
Antonia said, very casually, `so, I hear you met Franco and Mario today.'

   "I tried not to miss a beat with my stirring and when I felt my face was
calm, looked up, `yes, that's right.  Marcello here was instrumental in our
meeting I understand.'

   "Antonia smiled encouragingly, `yes, he does like to.  He tells me about
it and he watches sometimes through the curtain.  But it is always a man's
view.  He does not appreciate the details a woman would.

   So, please, I would like to hear it from you.  If you are not too
embarrassed.'

   "Before I could think about whether I was going to tell it or not I was
busy wondering if Marcello had watched us.  I wouldn't have known.  His
face gave nothing away.  And if he had watched, what did I feel about that?
This was so confusing.  I had no framework for dealing with these dilemmas.
In normal life one knows when you should be angry, hurt, pleased etc.  I
honestly didn't know what I felt about these events.  Antonia misconstrued
my inner confusion as shame or reluctance to tell the story.

   `Please', she said, `it would make me very happy to hear it.  You should
not feel embarrassed or ashamed.  You had the courage to do it, whereas I
have to hear about it.  You are a beautiful girl, whatever you do with your
body is the right thing.  It is it's own justification.' She looked so
admiringly at me, that I really believed what she said and that made it
feel better.

   "So I told her, just as I've told you.  She would occasionally interrupt
me for more information.  She needed to know the colour of Mario's jumper,
exactly who was sitting where, the shape of Franco's penis.  She really
made me pin all these details down.  That is why the memory is so vivid,
she forced me to add colour to all the edges.  She even wanted to see the
yellow cloth I'd used.  All the time she smiled warmly, rocking her upper
body in encouragement.  Marcello stayed quiet, but beamed with quiet pride
at his wife.  He knew this was a good present.  When I had finished telling
the story my doubts and insecurity about it had been resolved.  I knew it
had been a good experience, I had no regrets and I wanted to repeat it.
That was why they were so significant to me.  I needed not just the event,
but the immediate help in understanding it.  Without Antonia and Marcello I
probably would have written it off and tried to forget about it.

   "When I had finished Antonia took my hand and said, `you are a good girl
and if you want there is a lifetime of excitement ahead of you.' Then they
said it was time for bed, kissed me goodnight and we all departed.  I lay
in my bed that night listening to them make love for some time.  I felt
good about myself, I knew they were making love because of the story I'd
told them.  I half-expected my door to open and one or both of them to come
in.  I tried to imagine what my reaction would be.  In that mood I wouldn't
have minded at all.  But they didn't and eventually I fell asleep trying to
figure out what Antonia had meant."

   Dawn finished and yawned.  "It's getting late."

   "Is that it?" Lisa was perched on the edge of her seat, her elbows on
the table.  "I was sure they were going to get you in a menage.  Did
nothing else happen?"

   Phillip spoke for Dawn, who looked tired.  "Plenty happened Lisa.
Beginning the next day.  But I guess that's for another time, eh Dawn?"
"Yes, sure, next week?"

   Lisa looked crestfallen, "come on, it's not that late.  I don't have to
go yet."

   "It's okay, you don't have to hear it all in one night.  Can you come
over next Friday?  I'll start telling the story earlier so you can hear
more." Lisa' face brightened, "ooh, I've just remembered Steve is away on a
course all next week.  I can come over every night if you want."

   "Okay," Phillip said, giving Dawn a quick conspiratory glance, "let's
say Monday, around seven."

   When Lisa's taxi arrived they kissed her goodnight.  "See you Monday."

   "I'm looking forward to it."

   Phillip closed the door and sat at Dawn's feet, rubbing her thighs.
"So, what do you think?"

   "I think we're in for an interesting week.  Now let's go to bed."

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