On the Orient Express

Every six months, Dorothy had a vacation away from her husband and family. It was an understanding that she and her spouse had worked out years before.  They had met and married a few years after the war, the Great War. They had a companionable marriage and loved one another, but both found their passions in others.


She boarded the train, knowing that her final destination in Istanbul was incidental. She found her sleeping car; one she would be sharing with Bessie was waiting.  She found the tiny compartment empty, and she stowed her valise. She made her way to the dining car, and ordered a drink while she waited for her companion.

The two women had met during the war, in Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps. Perhaps it had been the harrowing events of the war, or maybe it was just Bessie herself, but Dorothy had discovered the wonders of Sapphic love. After the war, she had even tried to convince Bessie to stay with her – asking Bessie to leave her own husband and set up house with Dorothy. But Bessie had refused, kindly and with a lot of tears.

Eventually, they had started meeting again, first for tea and long lunches, and after Bessie had left England for the Americas, taking their holidays together. Dorothy didn’t know if Bessie had other lovers, and she never asked.  For herself, there was only Bessie.

She nervously smoothed her chestnut hair, only recently bobbed, wondering if Bessie would like it.  She’d happily adopted the boyish silhouette popularized by the new fashions. She’d found abandoning her corset liberating. As the departure time drew closer, Dorothy began to worry that this year Bessie wouldn’t arrive.  She felt her stomach clench at the idea of losing Bessie.

As the train sounded its horn, the train left the station.  Dorothy’s eyes stung with tears, and she hurried from the dining car, the swaying motion of the train causing her to stumble into another passenger.

“Oh Dotty,” a voice exclaimed. “I found you.”

Dorothy felt her heart skip, and found herself sobbing into Bessie’s arms, unable to speak.

“There, there my love. Let’s get you back to our car.” Bessie said wrapping a protective arm around Dorothy.

Dorothy sobbed and hiccupped the short swaying walk back to the tiny car. Bessie led her inside and sat her on the bed.  She stepped away, and it was only a step from the bed, to lock the door.

Bessie returned to the bed, taking Dorothy into her arms.  “Now, my lovely what is the matter?”


Dorothy, who had begun to recover her composure, took a long shuddering breath. “Oh Bessie, I feel like such a goose.” She wiped at her eyes. “I was waiting for you, and I had this horrible thought that you weren’t coming.” She met the woman’s green eyes, “And I just couldn’t bear that the idea of being without you.”

“Oh Dotty!  I was late getting to the train is all.” She hugged Dorothy tighter.  “I promise that I’ll never vanish from your life.” She stroked Dorothy’s hair, and kissed her cheeks, before leaning in and kissing her lips, softly. “I love you Dot, you know that.”

Dorothy gasped. While she had said it often enough over the years, Bessie had never said “I love you” before. She blinked at Bessie, “You love me?”

Bessie smiled, “Of course I do.”

Dorothy kissed her again, this time with all of her unspent passion and even fear pouring into the kiss. She felt Bessie’s hands on her thighs and moaned in delight.

They hurried out of their clothes, shedding their dresses and undergarments in a flurry of silk and lace.  Then, they paused.  Each devouring the other, their gazes lapping over familiar curves and savoring new lines and stresses.

“You are so beautiful,” Bessie whispered, her hand tracing the curve of Dorothy’s breast. Bessie leaned forward capturing Dorothy’s nipple in her mouth, and Dorothy let her head fall back with a sigh.  She felt Bessie shifting, pushing her back onto the narrow bed. Dorothy lay back, the gentle swaying of the train a counterpoint to Bessie.  Bessie whose mouth traced a path from her breasts to her thighs, and finally her tongue dipped lapping hungrily at Dorothy.

Dorothy, for her part, moaned and tilted her hips, her hands knotting in the blankets. The soft press of Bessie’s tongue teasing and probing had Dorothy writhing and ready to come. She bit her lip as she felt the orgasm build, not wanting the other passengers to hear her. The tingling built and she shifted her hips, wanting that final touch that would send her over.

flappers 2

It came as the conductor knocked on the door, demanding their tickets. Dorothy shuddered on the bed, stifling her moans in a pillow, while Bessie continued to lap frantically on her clit. Finally Dorothy caught her breath and managed a breathy “un moment, s’il vous plait.”

Bessie finally pulled away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She rose and donned a robe, before taking both their tickets. Dorothy quickly pulled the blanket over herself.

Bessie opened the door and handed the conductor the tickets.  After a moment, he blinked at the scene before him. Both women undressed, in the middle of the day, and with terribly mussed hair. Bessie took their ticket stubs and closed the door on his dumbfounded face.  Their giggles followed him to the next car, and as he reached the third, he heard Bessie’s moans.


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