Meeting a gentleman

On other days Sam wouldn’t have thought twice about the encounter. It was a normal day in spring and early in the morning. The city was promoting a car-free day in support of the environment and Sam had decided to participate and take the train to work. A friend had given her a ten-ride ticket, al she needed to do was fill in the date, her place of departure and destination. Having forgotten to bring a pen, Sam had to ask one from one of the others waiting on the platform. The man who gave her his was a bit older than her; Sam was in her early twenties and he must’ve been around thirty. She would have normally considered him too old to catch her interest even though he was quite handsome. On other days she would have forgotten him immediately.

Sam had never taken the train to work before and had not anticipated how boring the half-an-hour ride would be without anything to entertain her. In front of her and on the other aisle, the man who had lend her his pen was typing something on a laptop. She tried to read along, but the text was too small at this distance. Curious as she was, she considered for a moment to take the seat next to him, but she did not want him to think she was interested in a conversation. Besides she would probably be disturbing him in his work. It was of this unsatisfied curiosity, that Sam was unable to forget their encounter, no matter how brief it had been.

Days went by without Sam seeing the man again, but she had not forgotten him. Her mind had transformed what should have been a simple memory into an intriguing mystery. Finally, when she could no longer take her wondering thoughts, she decided to look for him; if only to prove to herself that her dreaming about him was ridiculous.
She did not know if it was luck, or if this man commuted to work by train every day, but she found him again the very next day when she took the train to work. Sam felt a bit foolish when she saw him. She had gone through all this trouble just to see a man she had barely said five words to. Still, she knew she’d have to go through with it now or things would only get worse. She waited until the man took a seat and then moved to sit in the aisle opposite him. When he took out his laptop, Sam turned towards him and asked: “I’m sorry, I hope I’m not disturbing you, but may I ask what you’re writing? I’ve seen you on this train before and it seems like you’re often working on something.”
The man turned to her with a winning smile. “Just some stories,” he said.
Sam did not want to bother him too much; she wouldn’t usually just address a stranger for no apparent reason. But her curiosity wasn’t so easily satisfied. “What kind of stories?” She asked.
The man hesitated, some slight colour – it could have been a blush – appeared on his face. “They’re erotic stories.” He finally admitted.
With a blush, Sam reached for words, but found nothing to say. “Oh.” She managed. After staring ahead of her for a while, she noticed the man had put his laptop away and was making notes in a small notebook. He probably assumed he had chased her away with his answer. Who in his right mind wrote erotic stories on the train anyway? Sam thought. Too embarrassed to start up the conversation again, she ignored him for the rest of the ride.

Meeting the man had only made matters worse. Sam’s curiosity was not satisfied knowing the kind of stories he was writing; it now wanted to know exactly what happened in those stories. She still daydreamt about the man, and now more often those fancies came with an erotic touch, just like she imagined his stories to be. Sam had not read a lot of erotica, though she had tried a few. She had a good idea of what his stories could be like. She did not find there was anything improper or wrong about erotic fiction and it was only logical someone would write it. If she was normal for reading it, the person writing it wasn’t any less normal than her. So the next time Sam took the train to work, she told herself this was not because she was curious, but because she wished to apologize for her reaction to her discovery.
As she had hoped, it hadn’t been luck that had brought them together last time. The man and his laptop were present on her ride to work, like he probably was every day. He looked up and smiled when Sam sat in the aisle next to his again. “Good morning.” Sam said. “We met once before.” Because she did not think he’d remember lending her his pen a few weeks ago.
“Twice actually.” The man replied. “You were in need of a pen and I never forget a pretty face.”
Sam blushed. She had not anticipated his flirtuous tone. It shouldn’t have surprised her though, how else should he react when she kept approaching him like this? Especially after the subject of their last, stunted conversation. “I just wanted to apologize for the abrupt way our last conversation ended.” She said. “I was a bit surprised.”
The man smiled again, it was the kind of smile that made you forget those years he had on you. “I understand. We can continue where we left of if you want.”
Samantha blushed lightly, she hadn’t really thought past giving her apology. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you again while you’re working on your stories.”
“Not at all.” The man said. “I only write those when there’s nothing more interesting to be done.”
Samantha bit her lip, but she could not deny the happy feeling she got for being considered more interesting than whatever it was he was working on. She decided than to overcome her shyness. One train ride, half-an-hour of possible awkwardness or embarrassment and then her curiosity would be satisfied and they’d never meet again if she didn’t want to. “So what exactly are your stories about?” She asked.
The man grinned, but there was a bit of surprise to his eyes as well. As if he hadn’t expected her to delve deeper into the subject. “Many things.” He said. “My name is Mike, by the way. What’s yours?”
Sam blushed deeply, realizing how obvious her curiosity must’ve been since she hadn’t even introduced herself. “I’m Samantha.” She said. “But my friends call me Sam.”
“Well, Samantha.” The man said, as if trying out the sound of her full name. “Most of my stories are about BDSM. Do you know what that is?” Sam nodded. “Now don’t go imagining dominatrixes in leather, full-body latex suits or those poor women whipped bloody. My stories are erotic, encounters between normal people just like us, with just a touch of extra kink.”
Samantha had to admit she had envisioned such images at the mention of BDSM, but she understood there was a lot more to it than that. Some of the stories she had read in the past had actually been exactly the kind he meant, erotic, sensual sometimes even about love. “What kind of kinky things happen in your stories then?” She asked him. Luckily there weren’t many other travellers in the train, for Sam couldn’t have had this conversation if she feared someone might overhear. She could still hardly believe that she was admitting her curiosity to this stranger. It was only because of his own obvious interest in the matter that she felt she could.
“Most of them contain some form of spanking.” Mike told her. “Usually in the form of an over-the-knee experience for the misbehaving lady with nothing more than the man’s hand or a single implement. It gives the naughty girl as much pleasure as it does pain. I sometimes include some bondage, from simple handcuffs to ropes and blindfolds. And lastly I often include a theme of exhibitionism, either intentional nudity or the fear of being seen or caught.”
Sam was seated on the edge of her seat, fearful that she might seem fidgety. She didn’t know why the simple description of the content of his stories had turned her on this much. She had never done anything really kinky in her past and all she knew came from those few stories she’d read. “You must have a lot of experience with such things, to be able to write about them.” She said.
The man laughed out loud. “Not really.” He said. “I mean, I’ve had a few women willing to experiment, but I would hardly call myself experienced. Most of it comes straight out of my mind.” He paused for a moment. “So what about you? Any anecdotes you wouldn’t mind make their way into one of my stories?”
Sam blushed. “No, none at all.” She said.
The conversation faltered for a moment. The man looked like he would ask her something. Perhaps if she was interested in creating such an anecdote. Sam blushed again, but the man just said: “Well, it was nice to meet you Samantha. I hope we can talk again some time.” The train was slowing down for the next stop.
“Nice to meet you too.” Sam said and then her curiosity gave her that last little push. “Perhaps I could read one of your stories sometime.”
In reply, the man took the notebook from his suitcase and quickly wrote something down. “I have a website.” He said. “You can read them there.” He ripped out the page on which he’d written the address and handed it to her just as the train stopped. He waved her goodbye and got off.

Sam had left the note in her pocket all day, but at home after work, she unfolded the piece of paper and wondered what to do. It was a bit like visiting a porn site, she thought, except instead of videos there would be stories. Sam wasn’t the kind of girl who looked down on porn, but the few times she had tried watching one, she hadn’t really understood the appeal. Erotic stories of course would be very different.
When she started up her computer and surfed to the website, she was surprised to see a lot of erotic pictures and photographs. She blushed and looked over her shoulder, even though she knew she was alone. Each story had a title and corresponding picture, probably to entice you to read it and lure more visitors. The pictures were very sensual, but not as explicit as on an actual porn site, more erotic and less base. The newest story, posted at the top, showed a woman at a train station, a train went past in the background and the wind whipped up her skirt to bare her bottom. It was titled: ‘The train ride.’ Having met the author on the train herself, Samantha decided it was fitting she read this one.
The story told of a young woman waiting for her train. It described her in detail, from her long brown hair, her dark eyes and pale skin. Sam wondered if this was the kind of girl Mike – the author of the story – liked. She realized the girl was a bit like her, even the dress she wore and the underwear described in detail resembled what she herself liked to wear. In this story, the train was nearly empty of other travellers and the young woman had a wagon to herself, the perfect setting for a semi-public erotic story. The plotline became apparent quickly when the train conductor came by to check her ticket. The woman had brought one, but she had failed to fill it in, having forgotten a pen. This combined with the similarities in their appearance made Sam blush deeply, as she was sure she herself had been the inspiration to this story when she had borrowed the author’s pen. Her heartrate increased and her arousal grew as she read on. She discovered how the man she had met had fantasized she would react if he hadn’t given her that pen. The woman – who was her – was faced with the cold, strict reaction of the train conductor and a fine she could not pay for she did not carry enough money. Security would be contacted and wait for them in the next station, unless … the young woman might pay her fine in a different manner? Sam’s blush was replaced with a deep, longing arousal as she read how she – the girl – undressed in the empty train wagon until nothing but her underwear remained. The story described her body in detail, and how the author had imagined she’d look like naked. Even her underwear was strangely accurate, even though there was no way he could have known such things. When the girl in the story was bent over on one of the train seats and her bottom swatted by the conductor’s firm and unyielding hand, Sam’s own dress was raised and her hand rubbing the fabric of her panties. She had never masturbated to porn before, but when the girl in the story had her panties lowered for her spanking to continue on a bare bottom, Sam lowered her own to let her fingers reach her swollen wet pussy. The story finished before she could finish herself, with an excruciatingly open ending where the red bottomed, sorely punished girl faced the question of how she should show her gratitude for receiving this alternate punishment instead of a fine. Forced to use her own imagination in the end, Sam imagined the herself – the girl – on her knees at first in a proper gratefully submissive position and then back up, bent-over the seats to take the conductor’s hard cock from behind. Except the conductor was now Mike, the man she had met and had written this story.