Business trip

I tumbled into the compartment just as the train began pulling away from the platform. I tossed my travel bag onto the luggage rack and wearily sat down at the table by the window, watching the last station buildings glide past. To the steady rhythm of the wheels, I began mulling over the next few days of work again, hoping to doze off from these thoughts. The business trip would only last 3-4 days, but the journey to the clients would be exhausting—over a day of jostling on the train, and alone at that. At 25, I'd already seen a fair bit of the world and usually traveled with a buddy. But this time, my partner was sent to another site at the last minute, and the tickets for the SV (sleeping car) had been bought in advance,

they decided not to return the ticket, and so I found myself the sole occupant of the entire compartment. Soon, drowsiness overcame me, and I settled comfortably on the couch, sinking into sleep. I don't know how long I slept, but when I opened my eyes, it was already midday outside. I was woken by the conductor, who had brought the bed linen. After checking my ticket and my partner's ticket, she was somewhat surprised that I had taken the whole compartment, tucked the tickets into her folder, and went on her way. However, not even 10 minutes had passed before the conductor knocked on my door again.

"I apologize for the disturbance. We have an unforeseen situation, and I hope for your understanding. Would you mind if we seated another passenger in your compartment?"

Sharing a compartment with a stranger wasn't part of my plans, but the prospect of jostling alone for a day wasn't appealing either.

"If he doesn't snore or cause trouble, we'll find a spot for him."

"Oh, it's not a 'he,' it's a 'she.' So she won't cause trouble," the conductor laughed. "Her seat is in the next car, but her neighbors... Well, they're already trying to harass her, and we don't need any problems. Besides, you don't look like a drunkard or a troublemaker," the conductor smiled again.

The journey just got less boring! A girl? Why not. A fleeting fling could spice up the trip.

"Well then, let her move over," I replied as indifferently as possible, "there's room."

To my disappointment, 10 minutes later, the conductor brought into the compartment not quite the girl I had hoped for. I would have gladly shared the journey with a miss around my age, give or take a couple of years. Standing before me was a girl, at most 18 years old, not yet fully developed as a woman. No taller than 165 centimeters, skinny but quite slender. Under a simple, long-out-of-fashion t-shirt, I could make out breasts no larger than a size 2; a denim skirt down to her knees hid a round and cute butt. Black curly hair below her shoulders framed a rather swarthy face with full lips, a small nose, and gray eyes. It was noticeable that the girl had done her own makeup for the trip because her eyelashes were thickly coated with mascara, and her eyes were not quite skillfully lined with pencil. Manicure was also present, though her nails weren't neatly trimmed. In short, back in my school days, I wouldn't have even noticed a girl like her. The girl shifted awkwardly at the entrance, head bowed; her belongings consisted of a travel bag, just like her clothes, long out of fashion and well-worn.

I gestured to the guest towards the other couch:

"Make yourself at home, don't be shy. I'm Ivan."

"Oksana," the girl introduced herself and blushed, noticeable even on her swarthy face.

"Looks like a little mulatto girl," I noted to myself and buried myself in my mobile phone. Oksana also pulled out a not-so-fresh mobile and started browsing Facebook.

After about an hour and a half, I was thoroughly bored and headed to the dining car. To my regret, I didn't find any lonely, bored hotties there either; the only drinks on offer were coffee, champagne, and cognac, so I chose the latter. And a couple of sandwiches. I sat at the table for about an hour, hoping for a visit from a beautiful stranger. Or not so beautiful. Or any at all. But...

The cognac was finished, the snacks eaten, and still no object of attention. My thoughts kept returning to Oksana, and she no longer seemed unworthy of attention; even her young age no longer seemed like a major obstacle. Under the influence of cognac, I increasingly came to the conclusion that my travel companion was an uncut diamond, and my purpose was to turn her into a brilliant one. Especially since I wasn't bound by any marital ties or relationships. The decision was made. Two bottles of champagne, a couple of chocolate bars, and some oranges and bananas later, I returned to my compartment. The bag pleasantly weighed down my arm; a cunning plan was already forming in my head. We were in an SV car, meaning the soundproofing in the compartment was significantly better than in other cars. However, simple rape wasn't interesting—the situation could get out of control, Oksana could make a fuss, and there were people all around. Police patrol the train. No, we don't need problems. Besides, violence isn't interesting; flirting, seduction, and introducing her to all the delights of adult life are much cooler...

Oksana turned out to be quite a sociable girl. The breadth and variety of her knowledge pleasantly surprised me, but there was an explanation. Oksana told me she had already finished the 11th grade, all subjects with "excellent" marks.

"A nerd," I thought—"the task will be even more interesting."

It turned out Oksana grew up in a single-parent family. Her father, seeing his dark-skinned daughter in the maternity ward, suspected her mother of infidelity and disappeared. After that, her mother quickly went downhill, became an alcoholic, lost her job, and didn't care about her daughter at all. So, her grandmother and aunt, living in a village, took over her upbringing. That's where the girl went to school and lived. But financial constraints were constant. A couple of years ago, Oksana's biological father showed up, having learned that there was a dark-skinned great-grandmother in his family line. That's why Oksana was also born swarthy. Learning this and about his daughter's living conditions, the father decided to take over further care of Oksana, even visited a few times, and now the girl was on her way to him. So that's why she was dressed like that! A village girl, limited in means, also fixated on studying, and not versed in fashion. When and how could she keep up with fashion if her own mother hadn't been around for several years, and her grandmother and aunt weren't experts on the latest brands either. It happens...

It was noticeable that Oksana was hungry, but she was clearly embarrassed to eat in front of me. Probably, her grandmother and aunt had packed her not much and simple food, which Oksana was supposed to stretch over a day as well—it turned out she was heading to the same city as me. Also over a day's journey. So, I decided to take the initiative. My own supplies appeared on the table, filling the compartment with the aroma of dinner. It didn't claim to be exquisite either, but it was still better than potatoes in their jackets and boiled eggs with tomato. Crab salad, roast pork, cheese—Oksana didn't need much persuading to join the meal. So far, everything was going well. However, it turned out the girl had never tried alcohol, so the offer to drink champagne "to our acquaintance" was met with refusal at first. I tried to steer the conversation in the direction I wanted, asking Oksana about boys from her school, whether she had had any relationships herself. It turned out Oksana wasn't interested in boys, though she didn't consider herself ugly. That the girl was good-looking, I had already noticed myself, so I started making unobtrusive compliments, weaving them into our conversation, while seemingly accidentally touching her hand. Just for a moment. At the very first touches, Oksana initially tried to move her hand away, but then resigned herself. Since my touches were infrequent and fleeting, just for a moment, and weren't followed by any further actions on my part, the girl began to accept them as a matter of course. And in general, I declared that all relationships in life are marked by fate, which is written on everyone's palm.

"Palmistry became my calling," I lied modestly. "Until I was 20, I learned from my mother and grandmother, and for the past 5 years, I've been practicing myself. That's why I'm traveling to a knowledgeable old man; he agreed to share his knowledge of Eastern palmistry with me. I only know our Slavic and European schools, you see."

"How interesting!" Oksana was genuinely intrigued by my story. "At school, we girls also read each other's palms, but I didn't know there were so many different schools! Can hands really tell that much?"

"Palmistry isn't just about hands," I continued fantasizing, "you can predict fate by ears, the shape of fingers, by anything!"—I was really on a roll now.—"A Filipino witch taught me to tell fortunes even by the taste of an earlobe!"

Oksana listened to me, holding her breath, not even noticing how her palm ended up in mine, and I was already gently stroking it with my fingers. Lightly massaging her wrist, I felt the girl's pulse quicken. I only knew about palmistry from TV shows, but I knew about women's erogenous zones and manual arousal techniques from personal experience. Including on hands.

"Can you read my fortune too?" Oksana looked at me with admiration now. "I really want to know the future!"

"Well, okay. But I need to perk up a bit, need to tune into the right wavelength."

I opened the bottle of champagne and poured it into a tea glass.

"By the way, don't you want to loosen up your subconscious? It will help tune into the right wavelength."

Oksana was silent for a moment, then agreed:

"Well, just a tiny bit."

"A tiny bit" in my understanding was half a glass to start. And a chocolate bar with a tangerine. The first toast was for the palm reading to predict only good things. The second toast was for our acquaintance, but God loves a trinity. So the third toast was traditionally for love. When the sun was already setting towards the horizon, I moved to the couch next to Oksana and took her hand. Gently massaging her fingers and palm, I carefully pressed on the points I needed, awakening sprouts of desire in her young body. At the same time, I traced my finger along her palm, supposedly reading the lines of life, and spouting all sorts of nonsense. I again felt the girl's pulse quicken, her breathing sometimes became erratic, Oksana's excitement was growing.

"Judging by the oval of your little ear, there's great potential for passion hidden within you," I whispered, "the firm earlobe speaks of great love energy that you're holding back instead of letting it out..."

My breath warmed Oksana's neck; I seemingly accidentally brushed my lips against her pulsating carotid artery a couple of times, causing a shiver in the girl's body, but she didn't pull away now, sitting motionless, breathing irregularly. Then I gently touched her earlobe with my tongue, and again met no protest. Enveloping the lobe with my lips, I began massaging it, simultaneously stroking Oksana's hands.

A few moments later, she pulled away from my lips and looked into my face.

"Ivan, what are you doing? You can't do that!"

"You can," I replied, "your scent and the taste of your skin are driving me crazy."

Oksana tried to push me away with her hands, but I took them and placed them on my neck, as if making her hug me. At the same time, I touched her full lips with mine and ran my tongue over them. Capturing her upper lip, I began gently sucking on it, trying to penetrate Oksana's mouth with my tongue. Oksana continued to keep her hands on my neck, while I began stroking the girl's back, slipping my palm under her t-shirt.

Suddenly, Oksana sharply pulled away from me and pushed against my chest with her hands.

"Okay, Ivan, that's enough. What are you doing?" Oksana whispered, breathing irregularly. "I feel kind of... not good. Please, stop."

"Ksyusha, let's use 'you' (informal). I'm not that old, only 8 years older. In relationships, that's not a difference, it's quite normal."

"Do we already have a relationship?" the girl's eyes seemed especially beautiful in the semi-darkness. "It can't be like this, I don't know you at all!"

"Life itself brought us together in this compartment. It's all for a reason, it was meant to happen. It's a gift from fate to me and to you."

I again placed the girl's hands on my neck, then pulled Oksana by the waist towards me, catching her full mouth with my lips. However, the kiss lasted only a short while because the girl pushed me away again, bracing against my chest. I decided to slow down, although the desire and readiness to possess this little thing were already raging within me at full force.

"Perhaps you're right. What was I thinking? I met a charming girl and somehow decided I'd like her too... Somehow decided fate itself was gifting me this meeting."

I opened the second bottle of champagne and poured it into both glasses.

"Let's have a sip and get ready to rest. Sorry if I offended you or did something bad, but it wasn't on purpose."

I saw Oksana wanted to ask something; she drank champagne, staring intently at me.

"No, you... you didn't offend me, and I didn't feel bad either. It's just... all this is somehow wrong. It doesn't happen that I'd like you just like that, right away. I don't believe in that. You're a really cool guy, but..."

"Well, don't believe it. Think what you want, I wouldn't believe it either. But you're really an awesome girl. And I really like you a lot. When I kissed you—it was for a test, I just soared into space. I was reading your life lines, and they intertwine so closely with mine that I even thought fate had sent me what was promised."

"And what did your lines promise you?"

"That this year I would have a long journey where I would meet my destiny. And here it is, the long journey. And here you are in it. So I thought..."

"And what do my lines say? Also a long journey and love?"

"Very close to that. The lines showed a long journey and showed heart matters this year. But I don't know... Maybe you'll meet someone you like when you get to your father's... To answer that question precisely, a deeper look was needed. Not just by the hand, and not just by me."

"And who else should look?" Oksana listened to me, holding her breath.

"Questions about possible relationships—the one asking can answer that too, here you need to engage the sixth sense. That's why I suddenly thought you might be the one fate promises me. Because I touched you and immediately felt a flash. Didn't believe it, since you're still so young. So for a test, I kissed you... It's a more accurate forecast. That's why I thought... And then my mind understood that nothing could work out with such a little girl."

"First of all, I'm not little anymore. Secondly, I am a girl already. And thirdly... thirdly, when you kissed me, it wasn't unpleasant. I've kissed boys a couple of times before when we played spin the bottle, but I didn't like it then."

"And now? Just not unpleasant, and that's it?"

"Now... I liked it..."

Oksana lowered her eyes again, not knowing what to do with her hands. It was clear my direct question made the girl embarrassed.

"You see, Ksyusha, our life lines are very similar right now, that's what confused me. Look for yourself."

I took Oksana's palm again, opened my own palm next to it, and