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The Overnight Train

By: m-o-t-o



On a business trip last summer, I took an overnight train from Copenhagen to Madrid. I was booked in a second class cabin. I was sharing the cabin with an attractive young couple. When I arrived outside the cabin, I could hear them inside arguing about something. When I opened the door they stopped, but the tension was still there. 

As the train got going, we started to chat. They both seemed happier to talk to me than to each other. I learned he was from Norway, she was from Spain. They had been in Oslo visiting his family, then in Copenhagen visiting friends, and were now going back to Spain where they lived. 

His name was Christof, tall, fit, standard Scandinavian, seemed like an OK guy.

Her name was Isabelle. She had a hard little body, like a gymnast. She was wearing a sun dress so small that it barely covered the tops of her thighs. She had olive skin and long dark hair and big brown eyes, high cheekbones and full lips that made me think of a feather pillow. She was obviously not wearing bra and her small, perky breasts stood up firm against the thin fabric of the dress, nipples protruding just a little. When she spoke she rolled her "r's" and stretched her vowels in that sexy Spanish way. 

The cabin had four bunks, two on top two on bottom. The bottom bunks doubled as seats and had a table between. Each compartment had a door and was completely enclosed from the outer corridor. Isabelle and I were sitting across the table from each other, both of us next to the window. Christof was sitting to her left, closer to the door of the cabin. 

From the moment I sat down, I had a feeling, the kind you can't really explain why you have, that she was attracted to me and would have jumped at the chance to try me out. 

Christof felt the sparks as well. As we talked, I could see he was getting a little tense. He was touching her too much, the way guys do when they are feeling insecure about their girl. 

Eventually Isabelle suggested we play cards. I pulled a bottle of whiskey from my bag to share and we settled into a game. 

Over the course of about an hour we played several hands and drank the whiskey. Christof and I were drinking two glasses to her one, but Isabelle was half our size, so I was not surprised to see her starting to get drunk. As she did, her eyes lingered on me a little too long, and her foot occasionally brushed my leg under the table. 

It did not take long for the tension between them to resurface. It became obvious when she made the cryptic remark, "You know Christof, this whisky tastes like red wine."

He snapped back, "Drop it. Please."

"And you know this chocolate, it tastes like red wine too. How could that be, do you think?" she said.

"Please drop it. It was your fucking imagination," he said, a little too sharply I thought. 

She smirked at him in response and turned her attention back to me. From then on, she made occasional off hand comments about red wine. It obviously made Christof uncomfortable but I was left in the dark. 

Around 11PM we finished the bottle and Christof wanted to call it a night. But Isabelle, now clearly drunk, was having none of it. She demanded that he go to the dining car and buy another bottle. With some prodding, he eventually went. She followed him out. 

She got back first and had what appeared to be a little ball of black lace in her hand. She flipped her sandals off, stepped up onto the seat across from me, and reached for her bag which was stowed above the bunks. The way she was standing, up on the seat, leaning forward and stretching her arms up to the bag, her dress pulled up, exposing her ass. I could see that she was not wearing panties. I immediately went stiff. She was just climbing down as Christof came back in with the second bottle of whisky. 

When his back was turned and gave me a long, lingering look, full of mischief. Clearly, she had intended for me to see. 

We cracked the second bottle and Isabelle announced that she wanted to change the game. She wanted to play hi-low, with the lowest card of each hand doing a shot. Christof said that was a stupid idea. She raised an eyebrow and gave him a stern look. Finally he backed down and agreed to play. 

She declared herself the dealer, filled all our glasses half full, and we started to play. Christof lost three hands to each one I lost. Curiously, she never lost. After a while Christof was complaining about his luck. He was too drunk to realize that she was dealing him low cards off the bottom of the deck. 

As the game progressed, she was more and more brazen with her flirtation, at one point under the table briefly burying her foot in my crotch and stroking my cock with her toes. I was enjoying the attention but did not dare to reciprocate with her boyfriend sitting right beside her.

It took us a little less than an hour to finish the bottle. By the end, Christof was swimming. In contrast, Isabelle seemed almost sober now, which made me wonder if she had ever been quite as drunk as she seemed. She declared that she was ready for sleep, and sauntered out to the bathroom. Christof, swaying, prepared the bottom bunk for their bed. 

I went out to use the bathroom. I was waiting at the door when she came out. I have to admit that there were other open bathrooms and I was waiting at that particular door not without some bad intentions. The door opened, she did not seem surprised to find me standing there. She cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow, almost like a challenge. 

The cabin beside the bathroom was unoccupied. I took her by the hand, led her inside, and pulled the door shut behind us. 

Without a word, she slithered down my front on to her knees and pulled my cock out. She licked and kissed and caressed it. I didn't think she would actually fuck me with her boyfriend a few yards away. All I expected was a little harmless fun. But the longer she sucked and licked, the more determined I became to make it happen.

I decided to tease her a bit and see just how far she was willing to go. I stood her up and spun her around so her back was to me and she was facing the edge of the table. I put her in a reverse half-Flashman, with my left hand gripping her right breast and my right hand reaching down between her legs. I could see her reflection in the glass of the train window and watched her reaction as my hand slid up under her dress and rounded her hip. She closed her eyes and leaned back into me, turning her head back to nuzzle my neck. 

Obviously, I knew she was going to be turned on, but what I found down there was shocking. She was soaked, and because she was not wearing panties, she was wet all over her inner thighs. Her clit was swollen and bulging out of her lips. As my fingers slid up into her, she moaned, grabbed my hand and pushed my fingers deeper inside her. She went up on her tip toes, trying to get her ass closer to my vertical cock. 

After a few strokes of my fingers up and down her clit, she slowly turned to face me. "Hmmm..." she was biting her lip as she considered me. She put her arms around my neck and pulled herself up into a sitting position on the table. She wrapped her legs around me, drawing me to her. My cock lined up on her wet slit. 

Just as I was about to slide into her, she stopped me. "You can have me, but not here. Back in our cabin," she said.

"That is the last place we want to be," I said, thinking of the boyfriend. "We are fine right where we are."

She reached up and pulled my ear down to her mouth and whispered, "I want you to fuck me while he sleeps right beside us." Her voice was low and silky. 

From the look in her eyes, I realized that this was more than just simple attraction and that I was a pawn in some wicked revenge scheme. "Something to do with red wine?" I asked her.

"Last night in Copenhagen we were out with some friends, mostly Danish girls. They were young and sexy and single. Christof was flirting all night with one of the girls, which was not a big deal. But then they both disappeared at the same time and did not come back for 10 minutes. When we got home I sucked his dick and it tasted like red wine. The girl he disappeared with had been drinking red wine all night." 

Generally, I don't have a moral issue with helping someone get revenge; it's all the ensuing, inevitable drama that I don't like. And I found it unlikely that he would sleep through us having sex in the same room. I told her so. "He'll never know. Why do you think I got him so drunk? He'll be sound asleep til morning," she said, "and it will be super sexy – it has been a fantasy of mine for a long time." 

Clearly it was a risky idea, but the combination of the whiskey and the sexy tart teasing my head against her smooth wet lips brought me around to the idea. And I must admit I did find the thought of fucking this little sex pot while her boyfriend slept a few feet away to be pretty damn exciting.

When we got back, as promised, Christof was snoring away on the bottom bunk. I climbed up on the top bunk on the other side of the cabin. She prodded him a few times to check that he was sound asleep; he did not stir. Then she quietly climbed up with me.

Within a few seconds I had her naked and spread out on her back. Her body felt even better than it looked. Firm in all the right places, skin soft and smooth, her smell a mix of flowers and sex. And that pillow mouth was exactly as soft and succulent as I had imagined it would be. 

I kissed and licked my way down her firm little chest to her flat belly, and down between her legs. She was waxed smooth. I sucked her juicy clit into my mouth and she gasped and bucked her hips against my face. Almost before I got started, she was coming hard and not being quiet about it. I tried to cover her mouth with my hand but the little imp bit me. I thought, 'To hell with it, if she wakes him up, he's too drunk to be dangerous anyway.'

And, as it went, she did wake him up. Just as she was coming back to earth, he stopped snoring and shifted on the bed. We both went absolutely still, holding our breath. Her clit was still in my mouth and I did not dare to release it for fear it would make a sucking sound coming out. Then he whispered into the pitch black cabin "Isabelle? Isabelle?" I realized holding my breath was not the best strategy and started deep heavy breathing so he would think I was asleep. After a minute, he got up, and left the cabin.

"Fuck, now what?" I whispered to her. She casually pulled her dress on, slipped down from the bunk, and out of the cabin. I was left lying there, cock throbbing, heart in my throat, and nothing to do but wait to see how it turned out.

A few minutes later they returned together. He was obviously still drunk and bumped around the cabin getting into the bunk. I continued my deep breathing routine.

They got in bed together, and I could hear rustling as he started to go for her.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. 

He whispered back, "I just had the sexiest dream that you were coming over and over again. I've got to." He was completely drunk, and slurring.

"Why don't you go down there and see if you can taste whisky?" I heard her whisper. 

'Oh shit' I thought. This was not the path I wanted the evening to take – fighting with some enormous drunk Viking over his tart of a girlfriend – and not even having fucked her. 

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Don't like the idea too much do you? Well neither did I."

"What are you saying?"

"Nothing my dear, but it would serve you right if I had."

There was more rustling, it seemed he was trying to kiss her and she was trying to fend him off. And then he said,"My God, you are soaked. And where are your fucking panties?"

There was a long pause, in which I forgot to do my deep breathing but they were not paying any attention to me. Finally she answered, "You know how you found me in the hall, well I had been in the bathroom... taking care of myself."

"And what had you so turned on that you would do that in a train bathroom?"

"Well... I was thinking about how sexy it would be to fuck some handsome stranger on a train while you laid there snoring. You were passed out and could not take care of me, so I went out and took care of myself."

I heard him make some strange Nordic growling sounds. And in short order, he was driving into her with no thought at all for the poor guy sharing a cabin with them. They fucked hard for about ten minutes. All I could do was lay there, hand on my cock, dripping pre-cum onto my stomach. Finally they came together and collapsed, heaving breath. I few minutes later he was snoring again and she extricated herself and slipped out of the cabin.

When she got back, she went straight for my bunk. "Are you crazy? That was not a close enough call for you?" I whispered.

"We're not finished," was all she said. 

For a moment I felt some hesitation about the risk. But I was still extremely turned on, listening to them fuck had not improved my condition. I also did not like the idea of sloppy seconds, but a quick grope confirmed she had cleaned herself up while she was out. By the time she slid down my front and ran her tongue up the length of my cock, all hesitation was gone.

After sucking my cock for a few minutes she straddled me and guided my cock into her tight tight ass, slowly settling down on me with a satisfied moan. Then she leaned down and whispered in my ear, "He might be able to forgive me for fucking you, but this he would never forgive. He thinks he's the only one to have ever done this." It was too much for me and after a few plunges I came hard inside her. 

We fucked with enthusiasm for about half the night – I just could not get enough of her. Doggy style was her favorite and she wanted it done hard. While I rammed into her from behind she used her hand to rub her pussy like she was trying to start a fire. She had several orgasms back to back doing it like that. 

For reverse cowgirl, she wanted fingers up her ass while she bucked on my cock. I was happy to oblige. A few times, after particularly intense orgasms, she tried to fall asleep on me. I would bring her back to life by sucking on her clit until she was wide awake and grappling with me to get my cock back inside her. 

For missionary, she grabbed her ankles with her hands and pulled her legs up behind my back, angling her hips up for deepest penetration. I used the side wall of the train cabin for leverage so I could pound harder into her. 

Occasionally, when she was coming hard, we would hear his breathing rhythm change and we would freeze, my cock buried to the hilt in her. We would hold the position, not daring to move, until he was breathing regularly again. 

I came in her three more times, twice in her pussy, once in her mouth. I lost count of how many times she came, it was more than ten. The last one, we came together and I just had the strength left to roll off her. 

For the rest of the night, she lay there in my arms, caressing my chest, nibbling on me occasionally. Neither of us slept. We went at it more gently and with less urgency twice more before dawn. 

As the sun started to come up their station was approaching. She dressed and slipped back down to Christof, who was still snoring away. She shook him awake and punched and prodded him until he had gotten himself together. As he was getting their bags down, the train was just pulling in. I was staying on until the next stop so I stayed in bed, pretending to be asleep. He left to carry their bags out to the carriage door. 

As soon as he was out the door, she jumped up on the bunk and gave me a long deep kiss. Then she shoved something into my hand, "Something to remember me by," she said. 

"Are you going to tell him?" I asked her. 

She considered it, "Maybe, depends on how he behaves from now. If he ever comes home with a dick tasting like red wine again, he is going to hear all about it – every last sticky sweaty panting grinding detail." 

She gave me another kiss and was gone. In my hand I found the little ball of black lace, the panties she had taken off the night before.

The Overnight Train



Part 1

It happened because she was so flustered. She had spent the weekend with her family, and they had driven her nuts.

Her father was always giving her a hard time about money and boys. Her younger sisters were always pestering her for advice and money and tips on how to look more like her. Her younger brother seemed to just stare at her all the time, an Internet fantasy come to life in his house.

Her mother was the most aggravating, always pestering her about finding a husband, even though she was only 20. Her mother was worried that men were only interested in her for her looks, which were, to be fair, stunning. She got lots of attention for her long, flame-red hair. She got even more for her 36D breasts, which looked spectacular and would have under any circumstances. They looked even better in the low-cut T shirts and tank tops she preferred on warm days like today.

But she got the most attention for her ass, which was curvy and shapely and firm and seemed to dominate a room. Even men who weren't especially into asses found themselves watching her. She favored jeans and shorts that showed off her heart-shaped assets, but she was never trashy about it. It wasn't her fault that she had a body that stopped traffic.

In truth, her mother was worried about the wrong thing. While men paid attention to her for her body, once she spoke they became enamored of her other charms. She had a sultry voice that invoked whiskey and cigarettes that she had neither drunk nor smoked. She was witty and unflappable and could handle everything from the most sophisticated to the clumsiest come on with grace and humor. So men weren't just interested in her body; they were fascinated with her.

And, despite the statistics and her parents' deepest fears, she was no easy mark. She had slept with exactly three men, starting on her 16th birthday and always with a steady boyfriend. She had been single for six months and was really getting to regret her attitude toward sex outside a relationship. Her favorite toys were starting to feel like boyfriends and she found herself fighting with them and then withholding sex. It was turning into a real relationship.

So as she left to head back to school, she had all these things on her mind. Her parents. Her siblings. School. And, more than she cared to admit it, sex.

Which is why she forgot her wallet.

She was rushing to get packed and make the last train of the night, an overnight from Seattle back to Chicago. She had made a reservation online but had arranged to pay cash at the station (she already had too much on her credit card), and she would have had time if there hadn't been traffic from a Mariners game. As it was, she made the train with seconds to spare and ran right to the first empty compartment she saw. She settled in, her bags on the floor next to her, and let out a long sigh of relief.

About an hour later, as her sleep had just turned to a recurring sex dream involving Justin Timberlake and a large bathtub, she heard someone talking to her.

"Miss? Miss?"

She opened her eyes and tried to focus. She wasn't sure where she was, because her mind (and her pussy) were in the tub with JT.

"I'm sorry to wake you. Do you have a ticket?"

She was finally able to focus. The conductor was standing in front of her. When did their uniforms get so form-fitting? He was probably in his early 40s, but he looked good. Solid, muscular build. Salt-and-pepper hair cut short and stylish. A stubble beard that actually reminded her of Justin in one of her favorite videos. Kind brown eyes and a very sexy smile that seemed to wake her up gently, like a lover's hug.

"I didn't want to wake you, but there was no ticket on the door or the seat. I need to see your ticket, please."

She nodded, thinking about his smile and his arms and the vague outline of a bulge in his pants. She didn't want to speak, for fear she would tell him about her dream. She fumbled in her bag and pulled out the printed reservation. She handed it to him with a smile. He looked at it, puzzled.

"I'm sorry, miss, but this is just a reservation. Did you actually purchase the ticket at the station?"

Her mistake was instantly apparent to her. Her face fell.

"I was in such a rush, I would have missed the train. I'm so sorry."

"That's no problem. I can process it here."

She went through her bag again, once, then a second time, then more urgently a third time.

"I can't seem to find my wallet."

He looked a little amused and a little put out. She wasn't sure which was more prominent. He looked at his watch.

"I have to finish my rounds. I'll be back in about half an hour. Perhaps you will have found it by then."

Then he smiled that killer smile and let himself out.

She spent the first 15 minutes confirming that her wallet was nowhere to be found. She remembered having it on the kitchen counter at home, which is probably where it still was. She spent the last 15 minutes practicing apologies and promises to send the money right away when she got to Chicago.

When the conductor returned, she was sitting in the compartment looking sad and contrite. She explained the problem in a rush of anxious sentences and finished with a promise to pay the fare and any penalties. He listened with a look on his face that she couldn't read. When she was done, he was silent for a few moments.

"Miss, Amtrak policy says that I am supposed to report you to the authorities when I put you off the train at the first available stop, which would be," he consulted his watch, "Minneapolis in 8 hours."

"Oh no, please don't do that. I can't be in trouble. And I have to be in class tomorrow in Chicago."

"You really should have thought of that back in Seattle."

"Please, isn't there anything I can do?"

He looked her up and down. He had spent a few minutes watching her when he first woke her up, and thought she was the most attractive woman on the train, maybe the most attractive he had seen in a long while. He was wrestling with his ethics and morals. And losing.

"I don't think you can. Or, I should say, I don't think you would."

"No, really. I would do anything. I just need to get to Chicago."

She had seen him look her up and down. While his eyes were on her, hers were on him. She was powerfully attracted to him, and the power relationship between them at the moment did, if she was being really honest, turn her on even more. She knew precisely what she was saying, even if she couldn't bring herself to give him one of those porn actress, fake come-hither looks.

"If you mean that..."

"I do." Her eyes were mostly cast down, but they snuck up now and again to read the look, now open, on his face.

He looked at her hard, for an uncomfortably long time. Then, slowly, he reached his hand out toward the door and locked it. He pulled the screen on the door closed.

Part 2

When he locked the door, her heart nearly stopped. She was turned on, not just by the man in front of her but by the situation she was in. He had control over her and they both knew it. She felt her chest heaving a little, and the warmth in her panties was getting intense.

"Stand up." His voice had lost its gentle quality and was husky and a bit demanding.

She stood and he looked her up and down. He made no move to touch her. He just watched her, clearly appreciating both the swell of her breasts and the raggedness of her breathing.

"Touch yourself."

She looked at him, confused. He spoke a little more gently.

"You are turned on. I want you to touch yourself for me."

She understood now, but was reluctant. She touched herself often in private, but had never been watched. She tentatively reached up and stroked the outside of her left breast. It was a feeble effort and she knew it.

"The police in Minneapolis will probably only keep you for a few days," he said, with a devilish look.

She got the point. She started to massage her breast. Instantly, the nipple got hard and was visible through the white tank top. She ran her hand over it and was surprised at how much it turned her on. She tried to make it look casual, but she wanted to do it again. Realizing that was the point, she tweaked and slightly twisted her nipple. He smiled approvingly.

"The other one," he said.

She repeated the gestures with the other nipple, then started playing with both. She was getting the hang of it. And he was clearly enjoying, as the bulge in his fitted, flat-front pants showed.

"Now..." He pointed at her denim shorts.

She hesitated, then realized her hesitation was for show. She wanted to touch herself. She ran her left hand slowly down her front to the V between her legs. She could feel the heat through the shorts, and she rubbed herself. She quickly made contact with her clit, and could feel how wet she was. Involuntarily, she closed her eyes briefly.

"Look at me," he said. Her eyes snapped open and she stopped touching herself. "No, keep going. Just keep your eyes open."

She did as ordered. Her left hand rubbed her pussy and her right hand was on her nipples. She was on fire, and so was he. He started rubbing the outline of his hard cock through his pants. He looked large, and she couldn't decide if she should look in his eyes or at his dick. She found herself doing both.

"Take off your shorts." She didn't have to be told twice. She unsnapped the buckle and wriggled out of them.

"Turn around." She adjusted her panties and turned around. She lingered with her back to him for a moment, knowing that the view of her ass was magnificent. He exhaled sharply. "Amazing."

She turned back around to face him and started rubbing again. There was a clear wet spot in the front of her panties, and she worked it. She was getting slightly weak in the knees, and he knew it.

"Take off your clothes and lay back on the seat." She removed the panties, tank top and bra in about three seconds. While she was doing it, she could see him struggling out of his uniform. His boxers were tented over a large, hard cock, which sprang out in all its glory when he pulled the shorts down. He sat on the seat opposite her.

When he started rubbing his cock up and down, she settled in to get herself off. She was fascinated as she watched him rub his hands over the length of his manhood. She had a finger rubbing her clit and one in her pussy while she watched him jerk off. She could see a small amount of pre-cum on the end of his thick, hard cock. It turned her on even more. She was playing with herself in front of this stranger and she was so close to coming.

When he started talking dirty, that put her over the edge.

"You look so fucking hot, rubbing your clit for me. You're fingering yourself to a total stranger and you're going to cum for me. I want to see you get yourself off. I want to watch you cum, staring at me jerking off and frigging your clit."

The orgasm was shattering. She almost screamed but remembered where she was only at the last moment. Still, it was so intense, she almost passed out. But she never lost contact with her pussy, and kept rubbing it. She knew there were more orgasms in her.

When she settled down slightly, she saw that he was still stroking his cock, but more slowly. He was staring at her.

"Come over here. Now."

Part 3

She got off the seat and got on her knees. She wasn't told to, but knew that would be his wish. She moved over to him and settled back on her heels. She reached out and her hand replaced his on his cock.

It felt so hot and hard. She thought how long it had been since she had felt a cock this big. She also thought how much she had missed it.

She ran her hand up and down several times, looking up at him the whole time. He nudged his hips forward, not trusting his voice, sending her the signal she needed. She leaned forward, her tongue outstretched, and licked his cock from balls to the tip. She tasted the pre-cum and felt his sharp intake of breath. His passion was stirring hers even more.

She plunged his cock into her mouth and began to give her best blowjob. She got it very wet and sloppy and was using her hands and her mouth to try to bring him off. This wasn't a warm-up blowjob, this was an I-want-to-taste-your-juices blowjob. She was in heaven (not as much as he was) at the exhilaration of it all. The randomness, the anonymity, the passion.

After a few minutes, when he seemed he might cum, he gently pulled her mouth off his cock.

"Not yet."

He pulled her on top of him, her knees on either side of him, straddling his cock. He pulled her mouth to his and they kissed roughly, passionately. They kissed for a few minutes, with his hands on her nipples and her hips rocking back and forth, rubbing his cock on her wet pussy lips. Finally, when neither could stand any more, she reached down, grabbed his cock, and aimed it in her wet, tight, pussy. She sank down with all her weight on him, impaling herself on his cock. She held it there, eyes closed, while his mouth ravaged her nipples. Then she began to rock back and forth. She didn't go up and down...not yet...but just back and forth. He was rock hard inside her and she was close to coming again.

When he slipped his hand around her and stuck a wet finger in her ass, she came. Harder than the first time. Harder than anytime ever before. She buried her face in his shoulder and bit him, trying not to scream. His cock was moving faster now, and his finger in her ass was in unison. He was close to coming and she could feel him swell even more inside her. Suddenly he stopped and pulled her off.

He picked her up and almost threw her down on his seat. She landed on her back with her legs in the air, and he grabbed her ankles and held her there. He got on his knees and started running his tongue over her wet pussy lips. He licked at her clit for a few moments, then down into her pussy. He could taste a foreign taste, a masculine taste, and knew it was his own. He ran his tongue down past the bottom of her pussy to her ass. She had never been tongued in her ass before and she instantly tensed up. Then, as his tongue circled the rim of her asshole, she relaxed a little, then a lot. She was enjoying it more than she expected to. He teased her asshole and then tongued it, getting it wet with saliva.

Finally, he stood up, keeping her legs in the air. She knew what was coming and was powerless to stop it, even if she had wanted to. He aimed his hard cock at her asshole and started to push. She bit her lip initially, and closed her eyes against the strange and somewhat painful sensation.

"Relax, babe. Just relax." His voice was again gentle, and reassured her. She made a conscious effort to open up and relax, and within seconds the head of his cock was inside her. She felt full and complete and very, very turned on. Without meaning to, she reached her hand down and started rubbing her pussy.

His strokes were slow, then forceful and fast. He was sweating a little and looking deeply in her eyes. When she tried to close them, he put his hand gently on her face and she looked back into his eyes. They stayed like this as their pace quickened and they both approached orgasm. Just as she came, he pulled out of her ass and came all over her stomach and breasts. She kept rubbing her pussy until she was spent.

He sat down beside her and they rested for a moment. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and sex. He looked at his watch.

"Seven hours to Minneapolis. I think we can find a way to keep you on the train to Chicago. If we use our time wisely."