The Door, Part Two

by CeeCee Mom

As the train pulled with a lurch and clank from the station I was pleased to see that our little compartment was empty again. The first leg from Paddington Station in London to Cambridge might have been a bit of fun if not for the ungodly hour of 5am. Three young 20 something women, travel agents from Virginia had shared our compartment. Unlike in the US in the UK many of the trains still have the old compartments, its much more old world and adds a touch of the Orient Express feel to journey. But these three must have been on quite a bender in London as they were obviously still in a bit of a state of inebriation. Fortunately my Kate sleeps like a log and having had to leave our hotel at 4am left her anxious to sleep again. The girls were oh friendly enough, they attempted to make small talk with me for a bit even commenting on what cute kid I had, one going as far as to say she is going to break some boy or girls heart someday. Stopping only when her friend smacked her hard on the arm. Christ Tiff get a grip, the other girl quickly apologized for her friend. She is still fried — she apologized. The room fell silent for a bit and on instinct I pulled my little Kate close to me closing my eyes as if to signal the sharing circle is over. For a bit there was only inaudible soft voice from the seats across. Kate snuggled close to me bending her little legs in a fetal curl even resorting to sucking her thumb which she sometimes did in times of supreme contentment.

Peering through slitted eyes I stole a quick glance at the 3 across from me, if for no other reason than to take in their youthful beauty, and they were pretty no doubt about it. They were dressed appropriately enough but I could sense a certain youth driven sluttiness about them. Had I been into the 20 something’s I could imagine some pretty wicked play times, no doubt there were at least bi inclinations on their parts. The one named Tiff whose Faux Paux had led to the embarrassed admonishment from her friends for my benefit, was leaning in a corner eyes narrowed but obviously not closed, her legs had a slight spread but enough for me in the catty-corner to see she was wearing a reddish G-String.

I followed the gaze of her eyes in my direction at first smiling to myself that I was perhaps being mentally undressed by this little vixen. Then as I tried to focus on her eyes, not easy while attempting to keep the look that my own were closed I realized that I was not the focus of her little day dream but my Kate. Though I could not see from my position I was sure that Kate’s fetal curl had left her little crotch visible to Tiff. I was used to men doing this, but another woman. How could she I thought beginning to anger and becoming the over protective mother. Then I remembered the passport “Sarah”, my how could she? Became a reasoned, well how could she not? And my anger turned to curiosity. The other girls if not asleep were quietly probably trying to chill from their drunken reveries from the night before. I decided to play a little game of my own, still feigning a sleep or at least detached state; I pulled Kate to me, eyes still closed, and grabbing her knees holding her in a curl knowing that Tiff would now have a full unobstructed view of my little 11-year-old girl toy. I watched a few moments, sure that Tiff had at this point taken a deep breath inward not believing her luck. I watched her lick her upper lip momentarily, I’m sure cursing that she could not find a safe way to diddle her itch.

I allowed myself in this detached safe place to create my own little fiction, after all it was not me it was them that lusted after her, and I’m sure it was a “them”. For when Tiff had been admonished it seemed not so much for that she suggested thoughts of a lesbian to be 11 year old, but merely that she had let her inside words become outside words and thus the embarrassment.

What would they do I tired to conjure. Picturing a long uninterrupted train ride in compartment at night with no mommy to monitor. How could I let my precious become the object not only of my own sexually playful thoughts but others as well? Simple I reasoned it was not of course her, no harm done, she is just the one I know best it is easier to put a face and a personality on one you already know everything about. Ah yes escapist rationality can come in handy can’t it.