Katja would always be my train woman. My memory of her is awash in golden sunlight flickering through the passing trees. There is the gentle lullaby of the rails. She is with me forever on that train. Beautiful, sweet, sexy Katja …

Naturally, that cherished memory was even keener than usual as I boarded a different train. I was removed from Katja by distance and time. I had only known her that one day, but she’d made a permanent place for herself in my remembrances.

In a way that wasn’t surprising, she was the only woman I ever had sex with. My sole lesbian experience in a life fairly fraught with boyfriends and male lovers.

I was on a business trip. I had pushed off the meeting an extra day so I could take the train instead of flying. It was an impulsive decision. My life had been a little too hectic, and I wanted to decompress. A sedate train trip would give me a reprieve.

Besides, it would allow me to luxuriate in my precious memories of Katja.

I was shown to my small sleeper cabin. It was configured like the one I’d had before, the one to which I invited Katja that evening. It had taken real courage on my part to make her that offer.

“Would you like to … see my cabin?” I’d asked. We had dined together and were sitting over coffees.

She flashed a sensuous smile across the table at me.

“Is it cozy? “she’d asked.

Heat had licked up my body.

“Very,” I replied.

By the time we had gotten to my sleeper, I was practically quivering with desire.

I sighed in my present reality. I was currently single, and that was curiously refreshing. Tim and I had broken up the week before, and frankly I wasn’t too sorry to see him go. He’d been fun enough, but he was one in an unbroken series of relationships that had been going on for some time. I needed a break from men.

In my cabin, sitting on the small but comfortable bed, I closed my eyes. We had pulled out of the station, and I felt the soft rocking of the train cars. That rhythm, I knew, would seep into my being, a reassuring motion endlessly repeated.

It inevitably called to my mind the rhythms and tempos and movements I had shared with Katja. She’d come to my cabin, and I locked the door. We sat together on the bed, everything unspoken between us yearning to find a voice. When words failed me, I reached out a trembling hand and caressed her face.

I shouldn’t have been terribly surprised when she responded by grazing her fingertips across my cheek and gazing at me lustily. After all, she’d been candidly flirty with me over dinner. She’d even initiated a game of footsie under the table. Even so, I was swept up by the thrill.

Earlier that day we had met in the observation car. My gaze was drawn inexplicably — I thought at the time — to her. Her pretty face was golden in the sunlight coming through the big windows. The woodsy landscape flowed past behind her. She looked like a painting. She caught me staring, and I had to introduce myself. That led to talking. That led to dinner. And that led …

To our first kiss, there on my bed. How soft her lips were. She wore a subtle perfume, but I was even more aware of her natural scent, equally cool and enticing. Her breathing shortened, and my pulse raced.

Our kiss deepened. It had become nothing like a friendly girlish peck. Our lips parted, and our tongues met. We kissed ferociously. She was in my arms, and our bodies squirmed together. The heat between us was rising and rising.

Our lip-lock was unfamiliar and fiercely intimate all at once. I had never seriously been attracted to another woman in my life. (At least that was what I thought then. Reconsidering, maybe I just repressed such feelings.) Hers wasn’t a man’s form. That was obvious. Yet my sexual instincts were all ablaze. Our tongues warred, and I was only growing more aroused.

But when Katja started to unbutton my blouse, I froze.

“Is something wrong?” she asked in the unlit cabin as night rushed past the window.

With a mental heave, I ejected my lingering heterosexual inhibitions. I tugged at her clothes urgently, and we quickly stripped and sprawled across the bed.

The first feel of her naked body against mine is one of the paramount sensations of my lifetime. I can summon the tactile memory and elicit waves of shivering joy.

We resumed kissing, but our hands were free to rove over one another. I touched her, and she reacted, sighing, moaning and mewling. Her reactions emboldened me, and they also helped me relax. I might have been a novice, but sex with another woman wasn’t going to be some utterly alien experience.

And I definitely meant to have sex with her. I wanted to do it all. Katja was my first woman. Maybe she would be the only one I’d ever have, I’d thought at the time. So I damned well meant to make the most of it.

Her hand kneaded my breast. She plucked at my stiffened nipple, applying just the right amount of pressure to send pleasure coursing through me.

I did the same to her, handling her breasts with wonder. A sudden urge caused me to bring my mouth to one, to bat at her erect nipple with my tongue. I suckled on her, instinctively knowing what force to use, knowing also to lick her breasts’ silken undersides.

Katja groaned gratifyingly. When she, in turn, feasted on my breasts, I writhed on the bed. Her teeth nibbled gently, and I gasped. My pussy was slick. I was ready for her. I needed her.

Her hand moved down my body. I was acutely aware of it slipping between my thighs. The brush of her fingertips along my damp outer lips nearly sent me tumbling into ecstasy. She almost pulled away, my reaction was so extreme.

Panicking, I seized her hand and kept it pressed against me.

“Touch me! Oh God, touch me!” I pleaded, but I hardly needed to beg.

She grinned in the dimness and purred, “Keep your fingers on mine.”

I didn’t understand — until I did. As she started to finger me, I matched her movements. Before long, we’d both penetrated my wet entrance. I was masturbating and being finger-fucked at the same time. It was deliciously wicked! I would have been much too self-conscious to do that with a man.

Pleasure welled up in me, under the sweet coaxing of female fingers. I buried my face against Katja’s soft neck and bucked through a fearsome climax.

Afterward, we moved into a 69. New desire burned in me, and my mouth watered, wanting a taste of her. She climbed on top of my body, reversing herself. She lowered her gleaming pussy toward my waiting mouth.

At the same instant my tongue touched her, I felt her mouth on me. The dual sensations were overwhelming. Her flavor instantly coated my tongue — the taste, again, familiar and strange all at once. I nonetheless savored it, knowing I was far past the point of no return.

I had no desire to return, of course. I only wished to go forward, to lick and be licked by this woman. I wanted to do everything one girl could with another, to give her pleasure and take pleasure from her.

All those longings were realized that night. Katja wriggled atop me, and my tongue brought forth her juices. She licked me to orgasm after orgasm until both of us were spent and limp.

As all this played in my mind, I touched myself. Soon I had a hand in my panties and was fingering my streaming pussy. Memories of Katja rang in my mind like a great tolling bell. I frigged myself as I thought of her, bringing on a climax that I would have loved to have shared with her.

But when I opened my eyes, I was, of course, alone in my little cabin. Trees and the countryside flashed by the window. I wondered if anybody had caught a rushing glimpse of me playing with myself. The thought only tickled a laugh out of me. I tidied up, then headed out to the dining car.

There, I had coffee and a pastry in lieu of dinner. I felt vaguely dreamy, still halfway in the world of memory, even as fresh landscapes passed by the windows and I was surrounded by people I didn’t know.

Eventually, I realized someone was gazing at me. I turned, just catching a woman looking away. She ate alone at the next table. I kept my eyes on her until she returned my stare with a mischievous smile.

“Caught me peeping, did you?” she said, amusement in her voice. She was my age, trim and attractive. Her eyes were bright, her manner easy.

I said, “It’s close quarters in here. We have to look at something while we eat.”

She pushed aside her plate and daubed her lips with her napkin before responding, “I was thinking of saying to you that I thought you were somebody I knew.”

“Am I someone you know?” I asked, though I was sure I’d never met her.

“Ah, I’m afraid not. But it would’ve got us talking.”

“We are talking.” I was warming to her banter. “Why didn’t you just introduce yourself?”

She gave me a comically wide-eyed look as she said, “Isn’t it obvious? It’s because I’m terribly shy!”

“Oh, I can see that. Come join me for coffee.”

She came to my table, putting out her hand as she said, “I’m Sabrina.” I told her I was Sonya, and she added, “Oh, that’s a lovely name.” We shook hands, and my fingers tingled afterward.

We settled into a relaxed, perfectly innocent conversation. We talked about the things fellow passengers have talked about for ages. Where we were from. Where we were going. What we did.

But I felt a subtext. Words moving behind the words we were actually speaking. A subliminal dialogue, made up of small gestures, discreetly raised eyebrows and soft sighs. She radiated a feminine energy. Something lustful was passing between us, trying to make itself known.

Or else I was reading all this into her, and she was just a friendly chick who saw me as a safe conversational companion. I’d been steeped in Katja’s erotic memory since boarding, and I wondered if it was influencing my perception.

“Can I make a completely unfounded observation?” Sabrina asked. “You seem like you’re running from something.”

Her statement brought me up short. Was she right? Was I, on some level, not reliving my escapade with Katja, but fleeing from it? With her, I had experienced something unique in my life. For me, men had always come with attachments. I fell into relationships.

With Katja, it had been the pure hedonistic joy of unbridled carnality. We had simply fucked, and it had been glorious. And the next day she was gone.

I gazed across the table at Sabrina, looking deep into her eyes and said, “Maybe I’m running to something. To someone.” I gave her what I hoped was a sensuous smile — the same sort Katja had once offered me. “Maybe I’m running to you.” I took her hand in mine.

For an anxious, breathless few seconds, I waited for her response. I felt equally vulnerable and excited.

“Do you have a cabin?” she asked, her voice husky.

“Yes.” I grinned. “It’s cozy.”

We hurried there. I locked the door and led her to the small but adequate bed. We sat, and she was so near, so present. The moment went still. It was that lovely sense of being on the edge of something wonderful.

With the fluid resumption of time, we came together. Our mouths found each other. Her lips were sweet, and her breath was cool. We kissed, gently to start, then we both pressed harder, mouths opening and tongues seeking. I felt no hesitation, no inhibitions.

Sabrina’s hands alit on my body, and I touched her in turn. At first I merely caressed her upper arms, which were left bare by the dress she wore. Then I moved down her flanks, appreciating the softness of her, the smooth and utterly succulent curves. Below her beautiful skin, her body had a firmness that was likely the result of regular gym visits.

She moved boldly to grope my breasts through my blouse. I gasped, breaking our kiss. Through the fabric she tugged on my stiff nipples. Pleasure whirled within me, and I pressed against her. My groping hand reached beneath her to cup the luscious swells of her ass.

With a mutual frantic urgency, we each stripped the other out of her clothes. My panties were already damp with my need. Her pussy gleamed in the faint starlight coming through the windows. I hadn’t turned on the light in the cabin. Everything was spectral, like a fairy tale, like an erotic fantasy.

Except this was absolute reality. I was there with a wonderful woman, and we were both shaking with desire. This was my truth: I wanted her; I needed her.

We lay down together on the bed, arms encircling and bodies tight. Her skin against mine was so smooth, so intoxicating. Every tiny movement brought fresh joy to me. We writhed against one another, resuming our passionate kissing.

My hand went to her breasts, kneading one, then the other. Her nipples were fiercely erect, and she responded with soft groans as I pulled at them. Hungrily, I moved my mouth down to suck on her. I devoured her breasts, licking and nibbling her nips.

She thrashed about in the throes of carnal happiness. Suddenly, she flung a leg over mine, and I felt the slickness of her bare cleft on my hip.

“Let me hump this one out!” she gasped.

She bucked eagerly, her hips working madly. I felt her wet heat on me. Her arms held me tightly as she buried her face on my neck. She jammed her pussy again and again on my hip, finally letting out a muffled cry. Her body quaked, and I blinked wonderingly in the dimness.

For a moment, she went limp against me. Then her hand strayed across my flat belly and slipped between my legs. Her first touch was like electricity, sending crackling thrills through me. Her fingertips delicately grazed my pussy lips. Up and down she went, slowly, almost teasing.

Boldly, I put my hand over hers. I heard her startled, indrawn breath as I pressed down on her fingers, pushing them past my entrance and joining my digits with hers. She would finger me, and I would frig myself. Distantly, I remembered I had done this once before, but somehow Katja was no longer forefront in my mind. The experience was brand-new, even if I were revisiting previous deeds.

“Oooh, this is so naughty!” Sabrina hissed, with glee in her voice.

Her fingers moved urgently in me, as did my own before all of my thoughts were washed away by an orgasmic tide. Intense elation spread all through me, touching every cell, every atom. Afterward, Sabrina drew my hand up to her mouth. Her teeth flashed in a grin just before she licked our fingers clean of my juice.

After that, I had to taste her.

We shifted around in the fairly tight confines until I lay between her outspread thighs. Her knees were raised, and her pussy was before me. I lowered my head and put out my tongue. How natural was the hunger I felt.

I trailed my tongue tip lightly up her outer lips as she sighed with pleasure. I tasted her tart dampness. It only made me want more.

I slipped my tongue inside her, feeling her heat and interior silkiness. Her hips rocked. I smeared my mouth over her mound and speared her deep. She bucked, her smooth thighs closing over my head.

My cunnilingus experience was limited, to be sure. But every instinct and bit of physical knowledge I needed already seemed to be encoded into my nature. I ate Sabrina’s pussy with skill and zeal. Her clit throbbed as I coaxed it with my tongue. I measured my success by the octaves her voice rose through as her climax closed in on her steadily.

When her orgasm arrived, it shook her from head to toe. Her legs went tight around my skull. As she relaxed, I came up panting, her flavor mesmerizing me and my chin dripping with her juices.

In the dark, she murmured, “You’re so good.” She started shifting around. “I hope I measure up.”

I got over on my back, ears still ringing sweetly with her gentle words. She thought I was good! Like I ate pussy on a regular basis! The realization combined with my freshly rising excitement, sending me into an anticipatory state that lit up my entire being. I was the quivering embodiment of lesbian desire.

Sabrina lay between my legs. I felt her hot breath on my wet slit. Then her tongue flashed over me. I jumped and bit back a cry. She licked me more thoroughly, coating my outer lips, eliciting soft sighs from me before delving inside.

I felt every flutter, every darting of her tongue. The feel of her soft, smooth body trapped between my thighs only added to the wonder of the episode. She moved with the same instincts which had guided me earlier, knowing my body as she knew her own.

As soon as she started in on my clit, I was on my way toward a massive climax. I felt the energy of it, and its all-encompassing scope. Her tongue tip batted and bathed my stiff sensitive bud, and pleasure continuously built within me.

She was relentless. I squirmed on the bed and reached for her head, lacing my fingers into her hair. My hips jerked, and I humped her face. In response, she only ate me with more gusto.

A frenzy took hold of me. The floodgates opened, and bliss overwhelmed me. I came with a fury, my soul lifted and my physical being churned and roiled.

Afterward, we snuggled up together, each leisurely licking the other’s face clean, like sated beasts. I wanted to hold her forever, feel her sensual shape alongside mine in the endless night. But we were just lovers on a train, after all. I sighed soundlessly.

After a long while, Sabrina said, “I’d like to see you again, Sonya. I travel a lot, so I could visit your city pretty regularly.” I heard the hope and anxiousness in her voice. “Would you like that?” she added warily.

I told her that I would. Then I held her tighter than ever.