12 comments/ 41203 views/ 11 favorites Train Stop By: mountaincat4 *This is a true story about how something incredible can happen when you least expect it. Even the names have not been changed because in this case, the innocent need no protection. * It was spring 1968. My 21st birthday was coming up soon and I would be graduating from college at the end of May. At dinner one evening my mother asked me if I had given any thought to what I wanted for my birthday and graduation presents. I knew she was inclined to nice clothes and fine jewelry and would want to give me something really extravagant to celebrate these two impending milestones. I told her I had not decided on anything yet but would try to come up with some suggestions for her. She said not to wait too long as she might need to make some plans. The next day as I returned home from my afternoon classes she asked me again if I had made a decision about my gifts. I told her I hadn't but would give serious thought to the matter over the weekend. She then asked me if she could make a suggestion. I envisioned some really expensive watch or ring but what she said surprised me. "How would you like to go on a trip to Europe?" she asked. I knew she had been there in the early fifties and stayed for almost a year but I had never considered going there myself. I thought about it for a moment and said I thought a trip might be a perfect gift; something to invigorate my summer before going off to graduate school in the fall. She was hoping I would say that as I could tell she couldn't wait to start planning it. By the time graduation rolled around, the trip had turned into a major production. She had made arrangements for us to sail to England on the QE2 where we would spend 3 days seeing London and the surrounding sights and sometime while we were there, we would meet up with my older brother and his wife who had been wanting to go on a trip since they got married but had never had the chance. I wasn't about to tell her that I had sort of envisioned going by myself and keeping it a bit more low key. She was just too excited about the prospect of all of us doing this together. I figured I could always go back another time if I wanted to do the solo thing and this way I could do some research on where I might like to go if I came back by myself. The trip began in glorious fashion. We flew to New York and saw a musical on Broadway the night before boarding the ship. She had not overlooked a single detail. We spent the night in the Plaza hotel and ate at an expensive restaurant prior to going to the theater. A limousine picked us up the next morning and took us to the dock. The voyage over was a perfect way to relax and unwind from all of the tension of final exams and birthday and graduation parties. I hadn't realized how much I needed it. We were truly pampered the entire time we were on the ship. An Atlantic crossing is quite different from a typical cruise aboard a modern cruise ship and I will always appreciate having the opportunity to experience it. The day after arriving in Southampton and catching the train up to London, my brother and his wife arrived and met us at the hotel. We did all the things tourists do in London and two days later boarded a train to Dover where we would be put on a ferry (train and all) to be transported across the channel. We had purchased rail passes that allowed us to ride first class on any train in Europe any time we wanted. We arrived in the station in Paris just as it was turning dark on Bastille Day. The train was going unusually slow because there were people in the streets celebrating and traffic was especially heavy. It turned out to be a fortunate situation as we were able to see fireworks all over the Paris skyline while we crawled along. We were not going to stay in Paris this night as we had planned to return here later to fly back home so we just spent a little time changing trains and heading off to Amsterdam. We had 16 days of sightseeing ahead of us and used them to visit many of the places one wants to see on a trip to Europe. Our next to last destination was Milan where we stayed in the most luxurious hotel I have ever been in and had a remarkably sumptuous dinner the night before we were to leave to return to Paris. The next day when we arrived at the train station we were informed that all of the compartments had been booked by previous reservation. We had never had this problem up until then so we inquired about another train and were told that there was one leaving an hour later but it was not an express and it too was almost full so we were only able to get second-class space on it. That didn't seem like too much of a problem so we decided to take it. Apparently trains to Paris were in demand that summer and the only compartment we could find was in the next to the last car and it was for six persons. That meant we would be on a slower train and could not rearrange the seats to form something resembling a bed, as we had been able to do in the first class compartments. We were not scheduled to arrive in Paris until 9:30 the next morning so the prospects for a good night's sleep were dim. In addition to the problem with the accommodations, we had not bothered to have lunch before boarding expecting that we would be able to get something in the dining car as we had on previous trains. We were due to leave in a few minutes and the hallways of the passenger cars were full of people looking for a place to sit and put their luggage, so I got off the train and ran forward to see if I could locate a dining car. I finally found one fourteen cars further up toward the front. I ran back toward the back and stopped long enough to buy what looked like a couple of submarine sandwiches but the only thing they had to drink were bottles of Chianti. So, wine and subs for lunch; could have been worse. The other two people in the compartment left as soon as they put their bags in the overhead rack and returned about an hour later and took them out. They said something to us in Italian that none of us understood but we guessed they had found better seats somewhere else. This allowed us to at least slide the seats into a reclining position so we didn't have to sleep sitting up. About ten o'clock the train stopped at the Swiss border and changed crews. When the Swiss conductor checked our tickets and passports we asked him about the possibility of moving to a first class compartment and he said there might be one available when we stopped at the French border to change crews again but it would be in the front of the train and we would just have to go up there and see. At half past midnight the train pulled into a little station with only two platforms in a small town just inside the French border. My mom, brother and sister were all asleep so, since I was next to the door, I quietly slipped out and got off and hurried to the front of the train where I saw the French crew getting aboard. I asked the conductor if there were any first class compartments available and he told me that they were going to be taking off and putting on additional cars and that one of them would be a first class passenger car so when they were finished, we could move up. I asked him when this would be and he said we were due to leave at 2 AM. European trains, at least back then, were extraordinarily punctual so when he said 2 AM you could literally set your watch by it. I then asked him if there was any place I could get something to drink, sodas or even just bottled water since you were advised not to drink from the basins in the bathrooms on board. He told me that there was nothing on the train until 6 AM when the dining car opened for breakfast but I might be able to find something in town though he doubted it since it was so late. "We just stop here to do a little rearranging so we can move on," he said. I had ninety minutes so I figured I'd check out the little town and see if there might be something still open even if it was only a vending machine. I walked past the darkened station and looked up and down the street and saw a light at an intersection about a block away. I headed for the light and as soon as I got to the corner I saw a couple coming out of the door of what looked like a bar so I went inside. There was a small foyer with a wide doorway to the right and a flight of stairs to the left leading up. I went through the doorway into a larger room with a bar and about twenty tables with chairs around them scattered throughout the room. It was exactly what you would expect a little French bistro to look like; even though I had never actually been in one, I had seen many of them in the late night movies I had watched with my aunt. Cozy lighting and still relatively clean given the late hour although it did smell faintly of cigarette smoke. There didn't appear to be anybody around so I walked up to the bar to see if they might have something to drink that I could take back to the train. As soon as I got to a space between two stools near the middle of the bar a swinging door started to move at one end of the counter and as I looked up, a woman walked through from what I guessed to be a kitchen behind the bar. My life was about to be changed forever. She had some glasses in her hand and, when she saw me, said something to me. My French was not very good but it sounded pretty much like "We're closed" to me and began to walk toward the middle of the bar where I was standing. I watched her walk the short distance and was again struck by her appearance. She, like the bistro itself, looked exactly like she had walked out of a movie made during WWII. She was wearing a black beret and had a small, delicate red scarf or handkerchief tied around her neck. A blue and white broad striped boat necked t-shirt came down to the top of a black skirt that was split up one leg from the hem just above her knee to almost her hip. The strap of a black garter belt holding up real nylon stockings with seams in the back showed through the slit. A pair of black leather 4-inch heels completed the outfit. Her hair was dark brown, a little short of shoulder length. She wore it in a pageboy style with bangs. Her make-up was perfect. Red lipstick on pouting full lips, mascara on lashes that framed beautiful blue eyes and a hint of blush on her cheeks. She had turned away from me to put the glasses on a shelf behind her and before she turned around I thought I had better say something before she decided I was some sort of pervert standing there ogling her. I tried to ask her in my poor French if she had any bottled water and as soon as she heard me she turned around and smiled at me. "American" was all she said. Her English wasn't any better than my French but she asked me what I was doing there, as they didn't get many visitors, especially this late. I told her I was on the train to Paris. "The train doesn't leave until two so you have time to have a real drink" she said as she reached down and picked up two champagne glasses and put them on the bar between us. She then moved over and picked up a bottle from an ice bucket and proceeded to pour the bubbling wine into the glasses. No sooner had I asked her what we were celebrating than I noticed what was left of a cake at the end of the bar with candles on it. I also saw a makeshift banner with writing on it hanging across one of the mirrors behind the bar that must have said 'Happy Birthday Yvette' though I had never seen it written in French before. I almost started to ask her how old she was but remembered my manners before I spoke. She looked to be in her early thirties. I looked at her and asked, "Yvette?" "Oui" she answered. Then added "Et vous?". I gave her my best French translation of my middle name; "Francois" I answered back. I asked if she was the proprietor of the bistro and she said that she was, along with her mother and father who had just left. I lifted my glass and said "Happy Birthday Yvette, thank you for inviting me." She gave a little giggle and said "il n'y a pas de quoi, de rien, Francois". The way she pronounced the name made me feel as though I had been called that all my life instead of hearing somebody say it for the first time. She gave me a look as she said it that made me feel comfortable and that she was happy I was there. I told her that since I had not been thoughtful enough to bring her a present perhaps I could at least offer to dance with her at her party even though I had arrived late. Her eyes lit up and she moved to the other end of the counter where she picked up a record and placed it on a turntable. With a flick of a switch music started flowing out of speakers on the shelf behind the bar. Once again I knew I had heard the song before in some typically French scene where two lovers were swaying in each other's arms. Edith Piaf or somebody like her, soulfully singing a romantic ballad that seemed to perfectly fit this moment. Yvette walked around the end of the bar and took my hand as she led me to a space between the tables that looked like it had been cleared for just this purpose. I started to put my left arm up to take her hand while placing my right arm on her upper back. She looked at me like I obviously had no clue how to dance with a French woman as she placed both my arms around her so my hands met in the small of her back while she reached up with both her arms and placed them on my shoulders, clasping her hands behind my neck. We began to slowly slide around the floor as we both stared into each other's eyes. After just a moment she laid her head on my shoulder and pulled me closer to her. Her breasts were pressing into my chest as she glued her pelvis to mine. I had danced with a lot of girls at frat parties in college but it had never felt anything like this. Despite being awash in feelings that I had never had before I considered how unlikely it was to be in the arms of a pretty French woman dancing to a love song in the middle of the night. This thought caused me to raise my left arm and look at my watch to see how long I had been there. I couldn't believe it was only quarter to one. I had been there a little more than ten minutes yet I felt like I had been there half the night. I guess I was paying too much attention to my watch because Yvette reached up and gently took my arm and moved it back down to where it had been; only this time she placed it on her shapely derrière. As she did this she turned her head up to look at me again and if the look on her face didn't scream out 'KISS ME', I was going to have to enroll in a class for reading the handwriting on the wall when I got back home. I slowly moved my head toward hers, not in hesitation but to savor the incredible anticipation of what this was going to feel like. When our lips finally touched, the softness was unbelievable. It was gentle at first, each of us tasting the other and liking it a lot. I thought it would last longer but Yvette pulled back and whispered, "Viens avec moi". She put her arm around my waist and guided me through the doorway into the foyer pausing briefly to slide the latch closed on the front door before proceeding to the flight of stairs on the other side. I had a pretty good idea what was about to happen but I was really shocked that she had been the one to instigate it. Despite having known her for only ten minutes, there was nothing about her that gave me the impression that she did this casually or often. We walked up the stairs and down a hallway where she opened the door to a room. I had no idea what to expect. What I saw was not some dusty storeroom where she brought strangers for a fast passionate fuck. Oh no, this was her room! She was letting me into her world; sharing her life with me if only for this brief interval. In an instant, the entire milieu had shifted. I suddenly had the feeling of being in a shrine or one of the cathedrals I had recently visited. The whole room was filled with all of the things that reflected her very essence. I regretted that I would not have time to examine every one of them and absorb the story they could tell me about her. The perfectly made bed, the pictures on the wall, the rug on the floor were as marvelous to me as anything I had seen in the museums I'd been in. I felt honored and privileged. I don't know what special set of circumstances had conspired to make her feel like doing what we were obviously about to do. Maybe her birthday reminded her that she wasn't getting any younger or maybe she was lonely or because the universe had unexpectedly sent her a cute young boy toy from America to play with for an hour and she was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. As I was standing there marveling at my good fortune, she moved like a cat across the room taking off her beret and scarf as she neared the bed. She turned to face me and then lifted the t-shirt over her head placing it carefully on a chair. Next she unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. She bent to pick it up and placed it on the chair with her shirt. Standing there in black lace lingerie she was the embodiment of every sexual fantasy I had ever conceived of. She looked at me and said, "You like?". "Very much" I replied. "Then let's not waste another minute" she told me and started to reach up and unclasp her bra. I said, "stop" and walked over to her and bent down in front of her. I placed my hands in the waistband of her tiny panties and slowly pulled them down to her ankles and over her high heeled shoes. "That's enough for now" I told her. She smiled at me and gave me a look that said 'Naughty boy!'. I smiled back to confirm it, delighted that our different languages did not seem to be an obstacle to our communication. I stood up and faced her and she began to unbutton my shirt. When that had been dispensed with she told me to take off my shoes. I was thankful I had worn loafers and quickly slipped them off. She unsnapped my pants and pulled the zipper down and slipped them off as I raised my feet to help her. My shorts followed and then my socks. The only thing she did not remove was my watch; a sad reminder of an unrelenting deadline. When I was completely naked she sat on the bed and appraised me. My cock was stiffening while she looked me over and she seemed pleased with what she saw. She reached up with one hand and placed it around the base of my cock while gently cradling my balls with the other. She slowly stroked me and caressed me before parting her full lips and taking the head into her warm mouth. I was no stranger to blowjobs but I knew I had never had one like I was going to receive now. Most of the girls I had dated in school had done it because they'd had too much to drink or because they felt obligated for my having taken them somewhere special or given them a gift. I couldn't recall any of them doing it because they really wanted to and most of them were not very good at it anyway. Yvette knew what she was doing and her enthusiasm was impossible to miss. Her tongue danced along the length of my cock like a humming bird swirling and licking at all the right places as she moved her mouth up and down my shaft with a rhythm she was born with. My balls had always been rather sensitive and I was not that comfortable with girls handling them but Yvette caressed them so tenderly that she found erogenous zones I didn't even know I had. I was hard as a rock by now and she stopped using her hands completely. Using only her lips to slide her mouth up and down my length without touching me. I was really getting into the feeling of her oral attentions but I did not want this to be just a quickie. I put my hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away telling her I needed to get on the bed. She stood and pulled back the covers and I lay down on the crisp clean sheet. I was immediately overwhelmed by the fragrances that virtually assaulted my sense of smell. Her perfume, various herbs and flowers in small pots scattered about the room, her shampoo whose scent had adorned her hair as she lay sleeping on the pillows. But most of all, the natural fragrance of her. I could recognize all these things and more. I was totally intoxicated; there's no other word for it. She got in beside me and continued where she had left off. When she had me hard and wet she put her leg over me and straddled my hips. She teasingly wiped the head of my cock against her warm moist folds, readying herself for the moment when she would slip the head into her opening. I let her control the action. Soon I felt the unmistakable feeling of her velvety vagina begin to engulf me. Train Stop The light in the room was from a lamp on the bedside table. It wasn't very bright but it allowed me to see her well enough to have what for me was a new feeling while having sex. I began to alternate between the exquisite sensations of what she was doing to me with just looking at her in awe of what an incredibly sexy woman she was. I was desperately driving my brain cells to record every detail both tactile and visual of what was happening because I knew this was a once in a lifetime event and I didn't want to miss anything. In the midst of rocking back and forth while she slid her wet cunt from the tip of my cock to the base, she almost nonchalantly reached up and unhooked her bra then let it slide off her onto the floor without missing a beat. She sat upright while she began to raise and lower herself on me and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them and pinching her nipples. She was breathing faster now and moaning softly. She had her eyes closed but then suddenly opened them and a look of pure lust swept across her face. She was bouncing up and down on me now and I could tell she was getting closer to cumming. I had the feeling that being on top was not something she had gotten to do very much. Clearly, she enjoyed this position immensely. Her forehead was beaded with sweat and she moved her right hand down from her breast and started rubbing her clit. It didn't take much of that to finally send her over the top and her pussy was now literally milking my cock without her moving at all. It was all I could do to keep from cumming with her but I had plans for more and somehow managed to just watch her orgasm and marvel at its intensity. When she had recovered sufficiently, she rolled off me and lay down beside me. She lay on her back and I took the opportunity to check my watch and was delighted to see that it was only ten past one. I moved down to the foot of the bed and removed her shoes, then reached up and unsnapped the straps of the garter belt from her stockings. I rolled each one down and off and kissed each of her feet before pulling the belt down over her hips and put it on the chair. Standing at the foot of her bed I at last got to look at her entire body in all its naked glory. She silently and unashamedly gave my eyes permission to go wherever they desired. I have never enjoyed anything before or since as much as just looking at her. I could have stayed there for hours. But I couldn't so I forced myself to move back onto the bed with her. It was my turn to guide things; time to step up and be more of a participant and less of a spectator. I spread her legs and knelt between them, taking a minute to look at her perfectly shaped breasts and the soft brown hair that barely covered her sex. This was way before the current fad for bald pussies but her pubic hair seemed to be naturally sparse and it was very exciting to see her recently fucked lips beneath the downy cover. I lowered myself over her and kissed each breast softly. I alternated between them kissing and sucking and licking them until her nipples stiffened and rose up to poke at my tongue. Constantly aware that the clock was ticking I tore myself away from her breasts and kissed my way down her stomach. I stopped to kiss and then lick her navel and gradually slid my tongue lower until I could feel the first hairs at the top of the triangle that defined her pussy. If I had had the time, I would have kissed each and every one of them, envying their good fortune to be living where they were. I moved on, slowly kissing down to the top of the hood of her clit. Licking gently at the beginning of the cleft in her taut skin with the tip of my tongue. An almost indiscernible shudder rippled through her abdomen. I licked again a little lower, pulling the hood up slightly to expose the tip of her clit to the air. I was frenziedly trying to balance taking my time with the knowledge that there was precious little time to take. I placed my hand at the top of her hood and pulled back on her stomach fully exposing her fleshy jewel and covered it with my mouth. It was time to get serious. I sucked her into my mouth and licked and gently bit her until her legs reflexively spread wider and she pulled her knees up toward her chest. She was loving what I was doing to her and I was loving doing it. I began to lick her with broad strokes from her puckered ass to the top of her clit spreading the moist inner lips out on each side and savoring each one between licks. I paused and spent dear seconds gazing at the magnificence of her womanhood so open and exposed. She was moaning audibly now and arching her back to push her wet slit against my mouth. I had my tongue as far into her vagina as I could get it and could feel her juices flowing onto it. My thumb was rubbing her clit as I had seen her do to herself when she was on top of me earlier. I replaced my tongue with a finger of my other hand and searched for her g-spot. Her vocal response alerted me that I had found it. I inserted a second finger and began to stroke it against the sensitive spot as her moaning turned into French words that I was unfamiliar with. I may not have been able to translate those words into English but I certainly understood their meaning. I kept on licking and stroking and rubbing as intensely as I could and just when I felt the first contractions of her inner walls I removed my fingers from her pussy and pressed my index finger against her puckered asshole. I deftly pushed and inserted it as far as I could. I glued my mouth to her sopping wet opening and silently sent her messages. "Let me eat you, let me drink you, let me taste you, smell you, feel you. Give me everything you've got and take from me everything you need". She went into two distinct convulsions. One of a powerful and shuddering orgasm and another of French syllables that sounded like a mixture of screaming, singing and praying all mixed together in a futile attempt to verbally convey the powerful feelings surging through her. I was absolutely enthralled at her ability to climax. And equally amazed that I had been capable of providing it for her. It wasn't like this was my first time doing this but I had never before gotten this kind of reaction. I checked my watch and was again surprised to see that it took only twelve minutes to orally bring her to what could only be described as a world-class orgasm. However, I had a raging hard penis and she had a dripping wet cunt and we had about twenty-three minutes left before I had to face the unpleasant prospect of leaving. If I had to go, I wanted to leave her thoroughly fucked. Nothing in my experience or imagination, including what had just transpired, could have prepared me for what was about to happen. We had hugged each other, caressed each other, kissed, fucked and sucked each other. Now it was time for the Grande Finale. It was time to make love with each other. I would have liked to have given her a little more time to recuperate from her previous orgasm but I just didn't have it to give. I raised my head up from where it had been lying on her stomach and moved up to kneel again between her legs. I lightly traced the head of my cock along her wet slit and when I reached the opening to her vagina I gently pushed the head inside. I slowly slid into her until I was completely surrounded by her warm, wet interior. It felt like nature had custom designed us for each other. I had never felt so perfectly enveloped by a pussy before. My balls fit snuggly into the space where her ass cheeks conjoined and felt like they were on a warm soft pillow. I wanted to just stay completely still and feel the intimate connection that formed between us. But again, that hellish timetable compelled me to move on. I bent forward and as I did her legs instinctively bent and pulled up on either side of me. I put my hands on either side of her head and lowered down to where I was just barely touching my chest to hers. Her eyes were still closed. Her mind not quite yet out of the orgasmic fog she had only moments before been lost in. I could feel her torso gently rise to meet me as she breathed steadily but shallowly. I kissed her and slowly started moving in and out of her. Her body responded as she began to move her hips to the same rhythm. We moved together in an ancient dance beginning the ascent back to the heights of sexual fulfillment. After only a couple of minutes of this prelude, suddenly, everything changed. My breathing, which until now had been fairly regular, became deeper and slower. Each breath seemed to take longer. I could feel energy begin to spread through my chest and with each breath I began to feel stronger and more relaxed. Within seconds I knew I had never felt this good in my life. It felt like every cell in my body was operating at its optimum potential. Yvette's eyes opened and immediately I could tell she was feeling everything that was happening to me because it was happening to her too. She smiled and stretched out her arms as though she felt like she could fly. She wrapped them around me and pulled me down on top of her. At the same time she wrapped her legs around my lower body and locked me in a tight embrace. An unknown external force seemed to be directing our every movement. We weren't breathing, we were being breathed. As I inhaled, she exhaled passing the breath back and forth between us. Each of us enriching it with a sweet perfume coming from somewhere deep inside us. The same thing was happening with our coupling. We weren't making love, love was making us into finely tuned instruments so it could take us to the highest of its planes that human beings are allowed to go. The pace picked up. Long, steady thrusts of my cock were met by a complimentary push and pull of her hips and a squeezing and relaxing of her vagina. Still the breathing was perfectly synchronized. Not the gasping, shallow, heaving breaths that usually accompanied the approach of a quickened tempo as you desperately race to a biological release. I had never felt anything as wonderful as this. I wouldn't have believed you could feel this wonderful. Soon a subtle tingling at the base of my spine alerted me to the beginning of my orgasm. The look on Yvette's faced told me she was nearing hers as well. It began as if in slow motion. My cock swelled and hardened and I could feel each individual blood vessel constricting and all the physiological changes that were preparing for the release of my cum. Fluids moving. Hormones releasing and racing into place. My prostate churning and readying the liquids for expulsion. At the same time I could feel Yvette's internal changes readying her to receive it. Her secretions flowing. Her cervix opening. Muscles involuntarily readying to milk out every drop. I knew she felt all of this too but this time there was no grunting or moaning. She looked strong, aware and happy as though we were riding a surfboard on top of a tsunami. We were in it and above it at the same time. Then it happened. We experienced the simultaneous orgasm that under normal circumstances would have overwhelmed us and drowned us in sensations. This was different. This felt like a gentle Caribbean wave washing over us and covering us with warm ocean water. My cum sprayed into her in jets and she held me tight to receive it; throwing back her head with each hot spurt. But instead of draining me like it usually did, it seemed to just make me feel more wonderful. The physical release was only the beginning. A warm feeling began to spread from just above where we were joined and flow like honey slowly and steadily upward through our bodies. We were still breathing in unison. Not lost in an orgasmic overload but more aware than I had ever felt before. Soon this spreading energy reached our chests and we could feel our hearts begin to melt from the golden honey dripping onto them. They began to beat in perfect synchronicity with our breathing. The orgasm shifted from a physical one to a spiritual one. Pure unconditional love was passing back and forth between us with each heartbeat. After all this time I still know no words that could come close to describing what this felt like. It was way past love. Pure joy. Ecstasy. Bliss. No fear. No thoughts. Another shift and the spiritual orgasm changed to prayer. A glow of golden light surrounded us in an aureole and slowly subsided. The final movement of a symphony of love. The rest is silence. I had no idea how long this lasted. It would not have surprised me if it had been days. I was still looking into Yvette's eyes. How I had the presence of mind to look at my watch I will never know because all I wanted to do was stay in her arms for the rest of my life. It was twenty minutes before two. All of this had taken place in the span of twenty-three minutes. I rolled over and lay beside her on my side so I could look at her for just a few minutes longer before getting up. She reached out and took my hand and held it so tenderly that it almost hurt. A line from Kahlil Gibran's 'The Prophet' flashed into my thoughts: 'To know the pain of too much tenderness'. It was one of the things love was supposed to teach you. Until that moment, I had not believed it to be possible. She laid her head back on the pillow and started softly speaking. "Oh Francois, qu'avons-nous fait?" She kept repeating it, pausing for a few seconds between each repetition. "Qu'avons-nous fait?" "Qu'avons-nous fait?" "Qu'avons-nous fait?" I couldn't answer her for two reasons. I wasn't completely sure what she was asking and even if I had been I simply didn't know. I kissed her for what would be the very last time. I could wait no longer. I slid down and got up and started retrieving my clothes. She arose and walked over to a door on the other side of the room. She opened it and took a beautiful green full-length silk robe off a hanger and put it on. When she turned around I could see that it had a gorgeous pink hibiscus embroidered across the entire back. I dressed as fast as I could before I could even think the thought that was sitting in my head waiting to be verbalized. I walked toward the door to the hallway and she met me and put her arm around my waist as she had done when she brought me up here. Together we walked down the hall and down the stairs to the foyer. I looked at my watch. Thirteen minutes until two. I wanted to leave at ten minutes until two even though I knew I could make it back to the train in five. No sense cutting it too close. She left me standing there at the bottom of the stairs just in front of the door to the outside and hurriedly walked into the bar. She came back seconds later with a cloth bag that contained three large bottles of Evian water. "Pour votre voyage" she said as she handed it to me. The remainder of those three minutes are the most poignant I have ever spent on this earth. She stood there four feet away from me as still as a statue with a beatific look on her face. She was no longer just the sexy French woman I had met barely an hour before. What we had shared had revealed her as a pure and innocent child full of joy and delight and transformed her into a goddess capable of a love that I never knew existed. I felt humbled to even be in her presence. The belt of her robe had come untied and it was parted so that I could see most of her exquisite body unselfconsciously displayed. Neither of us spoke. There was no need to. Everything I was feeling was written on my face and mirrored on hers. She was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Another line from 'The prophet' came into my mind: 'And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation'. You would have to be in a situation like this to appreciate just what a profound statement this is. I wished my French had been good enough to translate it and say it to her but it really wasn't necessary. We had not said that word to each other; we didn't have to. She knew what was in my heart as surely as I knew what was in hers. Still she did not waiver or even blink. Still breathing in that deep relaxed way as when we had made love. So much passed between us in silence standing there that it would fill a book if words existed to express it. A solemn, holy communion between two who had briefly become one. I looked at my watch. The second hand clicked to the top of the dial. The minute hand pointed to ten. I turned around, slid the latch back and opened the door. I stepped out and closed it behind me. I ran across the intersection and headed for the station down the street. I walked past the side of the station and out onto the platform next to the train. I glanced up at the big white clock with the black numerals that every train station in Europe seemed to have on their platforms. It was four minutes until two. I headed down toward the end of the train and saw the conductor standing on the platform. I wanted to be sure of the meaning of what Yvette had repeated while she held my hand so I asked him to translate. He said it meant 'What have we done'. I continued walking and thought about her question. 'What have we done?' Not 'What have you done to me?' The difference was subtle but significant. It meant she accepted being an equal partner in what we had experienced; and even though she may not have intended it, she shared responsibility for making it happen and she needed no reassurance that I had felt the same depths of pleasure and wonder as she had. She had completely surrendered herself to our passion and allowed me to touch her soul and she had responded and touched mine in return. I got to the car and climbed up the steps to the covered deck at the back and stood there looking out toward the town. I remembered what the conductor had said 'We just stop here to do a little rearranging so we can move on'. Well, I had certainly had some rearranging done in my brief visit and like it or not, it was time to move on. But I was taking a souvenir with me that I would keep for the rest of my life. I sent a thought to Yvette that said "it may have been your birthday but I'm the one who got the gift"; realizing as I thought it that both of us had given and received more than we could ever have imagined just ninety short minutes ago. The train lurched slightly and we began to move. I stayed there watching until the light of the station receded into darkness and finally disappeared. I opened the door and went into the car. Our compartment appeared dark so I carefully opened the sliding door. They were all still sleeping. I sat down as quietly as I could and put the water bottles in a large pocket made of stretchy netting on the wall beside me. Then I realized this is what I had gone looking for in the first place. I hadn't had anything to drink but wine and a glass of champagne since getting on the train in Milan. I retrieved one of the bottles, opened it and then paused to thank her silently for this final thoughtful gesture. I had almost overlooked the selfless significance of this gift. I savored each sip as if it were the last water on earth. When I had finished half the bottle, I put it back in the pocket and leaned back. I should have been exhausted but I was still too electrified by what had happened. I took a deep breath and inhaled the sublime fragrance of Yvette still permeating my body. I could still feel her all over me; still taste her on my lips; still see those beautiful blue eyes looking at me so lovingly; still hear her haunting question echoing in my ears "Oh Francois, qu'avons-nous fait? qu'avons-nous fait? qu'avons-nous fait?" Suddenly the answer appeared in my mind; a line from a poem by William Blake that I had read in an English Lit class and not understood until now: 'See a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower. Hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour'. Train Stop I had seen a world in that little bedroom. Seen heaven in a beautiful wild flower named Yvette. Held infinity in my hands as I cradled her delicate face and kissed her soft lips. And we had both beheld eternity in the one brief hour we had shared. Oh Yvette, that's exactly what we have done.