Author's Notes: This can be considered a "Sequel" to NoCleverSig's story, "Love Letters" but can be a standalone as well. She also happens to be the wonderful beta of this. This is surely my most shameless little PWP yet, but… … I couldn't resist! Helen and James are too cute, with too much potential for corruption ;) Enjoy! MSam

"The Little Train that Could"
Copyright 2011, MajorSam

"204, this is us," announced Helen, opening the door to their compartment.

"Excellent," remarked James as he followed her in. He would have liked to open the door for her but had learned long ago that she wouldn't appreciate the gesture. Being with Helen Magnus was a constant war between his upbringing, his instincts as a gentleman, and the unique sense of propriety that Helen stubbornly followed.

Their luggage had been brought ahead of time and rested by the bedside. Their trip to Barn Hall would take barely two hours, but the only train available at the time they wanted to leave usually served as an overnight vehicle. Magnus was planning on utilizing the queen size bed for a nap. She'd been up for most of the night before doing analysis on the egg of a rare abnormal cousin of the emu. Its process of gestation was very time-sensitive, and she'd wanted to get as much work in as possible before the trip. She'd wanted to cancel, but knew Lady Burnham would have an absolute fit. Magnus didn't want to have her reputation at the manor tarnished. She and James had managed to procure several valuable financial backers during their last visit, and they hoped to make more this year.

Magnus shook her head. She couldn't believe it had been a year already since their first, fateful trip to the Burnham estate. Looking back, she supposed the shenanigans that had taken place could be called amusing, but at the time she had been truly worried that her friendship with James would come to a crushing end. They'd ended up finally joining together as lovers because of that weekend, but Magnus still sometimes thought about the dreadful fear she had felt.

Then there was the whole marriage proposal fiasco…

Helen chose to ignore that. She'd decided before embarking that this weekend should be viewed as a celebration of their relationship. She would not dwell on troubles past. Unbeknownst to her, James had come to the same conclusion.

"May I get you anything, my dear?" he inquired as Magnus gratefully unlaced her boots and removed them.

"No, thank you darling," she replied. "I'd just like to lie down for a bit. I fear I shall have no time for rest the next few days, what with all the bridge, charades, and other such nonsense I'll be obliged to participate in."

James patted her on the shoulder in understanding. She laid her hand atop his to keep it in place, squeezing lightly.

"And my heart breaks for the thousands of innocent pheasants who shall surely perish at the hands of the Wicked Watson, fiend of the skies."

James laughed and sat down next to her, his dark brown coat brushing against the pink of her dress.

"Well at least this time we won't be sleeping in rooms across the hall," he said, causing her to blush. The rouge of her cheeks offset her long blonde curls and the sight, combined with the pink and cream of her dress, caused James' heart to thud.

"Thank goodness for that," she said quietly, squeezing then letting go of his hand and clasping her own in front of her, looking down. James reached out to touch her chin, lifting it up so she was looking at him. He smiled at her and leaned in, kissing her nose. She smiled at the innocent gesture. James' heart rate sped up, and suddenly he had a thought. He'd considered the idea several times before, and knew he would eventually instigate his plan, but hadn't expected the inspiration to hit him today. As he thought about the events of the previous year's visit, and a certain dark-haired young lord, he realized the timing could not be more fitting. It was scandalous, he knew, and the train ride was relatively short, but he was sure he could persuade her.

"Helen, love," he began. "I wonder if you'd like to indulge in a small experiment with me?"

Helen smiled, cocking her head to the side.

"Here? On the train?"

He nodded.

"What could you have possibly packed in your suitcase that could be used in an experiment?"

"You've actually brought along all I will need," he replied cryptically.

An odd feeling settled in Magnus' stomach, punctuated by the lurching of the train as it set into motion. Watson looked out the window above the head of the bed and smiled softly as he saw the countryside rolling peacefully by.

"James…" Helen's voice was low and laced with warning.

"I promise you will find this experiment most fascinating. Eye-opening, in fact!"

He seemed earnest, and Helen felt a tad guilty for thinking he was up to something devious.

"Alright," she agreed slowly.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

"What must I do?"

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Of course I do; with my life. You know that."

"Then just lie down, and leave the rest to me."

The niggling in her stomach blossomed, but she did as he said, curiosity overpowering her wariness. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, but such was the advantage given to those who could afford it. James removed his brown coat, revealing the cream-coloured shirt beneath. He knelt down at the foot of the bed and reached under her skirt.

"James!" Helen exclaimed, pulling her legs up defensively.

"Just removing your stockings so that you may be more comfortable, my dear," he said, his brown eyes looking hurt.

She frowned at him, once again feeling bad at doubting him, but still sensing something was amiss. She stretched her legs out so he could continue. His hand skimmed lightly up her thighs, and she involuntarily closed her eyes. He slowly peeled her stockings down, and she sighed in relief as her feet were freed. She wiggled her toes, enjoying the freedom and the fresh air. James reached out and grabbed the big toe of her left foot, shaking it playfully. She laughed, and lightly kicked him. He grabbed the offending foot in both hands, digging his thumbs into the crown of her foot. She groaned at the sweet pressure. He slowly massaged it, in time gently placing it back on the bed and lifting the other. When he'd paid it due attention, he started working his hands up her ankle, to her calf.

"James," she said, her voice soft. "What does this have to do with an "experiment", exactly?'"


He continued to work up her smooth skin, pushing her skirts higher and higher as he went. His touch sent shivers up her skin, goosebumps popping out, making her sigh. Her breathing became shallow and quick.

"James," she breathed as he started nearing dangerous territory. By now he'd risen up onto the bed and was kneeling between her legs. The sluggish motion of the train shook them both so that every few moments he bumped against her legs, fleeting, teasing touches.

Helen's skirt was bunched around her waist, her lower half fully bared to him. He finally gave up all pretenses and leaned down, pressing his lips between her legs. He barely brushed her skin, but it sent lightning bolts of desire washing up her spine. Her heart skipped a beat, her body jerked, and her vision flashed white. She gasped and tensed. She'd always responded well to James, but that had been a bit over the top. James kissed her again, and the intensity of his touch persisted.

Dear God, why did that feel so incredible?

Helen searched her mind for an explanation, but when he ran his tongue over her, her mind went blank. He gathered her clit between his lips and gently worked her. A flood of arousal gushed out of her and she moaned, grabbing the sheets between her fingers, holding on for dear life. She was sweating and began to claw at her clothes, suddenly needing to get them off as soon as possible. James pushed his tongue inside her, and then moved back to her clit. Her fingers lost all feeling, falling limp beside her as she suddenly came, back arching, eyes wide open in shock. She fell back down to the bed, shaking.

"James," she cried, "What on Earth just happened?"

He grinned at her. "I trust that was pleasant, my dear?"

"Pleasant?" she scoffed, "What did you do to me?"

He was still grinning devilishly. Helen thought he'd never looked more handsome.

"I'm afraid I can't take all of the credit, love. It's all part of the experiment. I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out."

She frowned, creasing her eyebrows as she wracked her brain. She could think of no immediate reason for her heightened responses.

"I think I'll need another demonstration before I can formulate a theory," she finally said, grinning slyly at him, her face still flushed.

"An excellent idea," he complimented. "You're a true scientist."

James gazed at her sweet, flushed face for a moment, wondering at his luck, and moved up her body to kiss her full lips. He coaxed her mouth open to plunge his tongue inside, simultaneously sliding a finger into the wet heat between her legs. She gasped and bit down on his tongue, hands rising to grasp his shoulders in a tight grip. He played in and out of her, rapidly building her up once again. She broke away from his kiss to gulp air, on the brink of orgasm already. He suddenly pulled out of her. She keened at the loss, and James silenced her by sticking his wet fingers into her mouth, making her taste herself on him. She eagerly latched on, wrapping her tongue around his fingers and sucking.

His trousers were tight to the point of pain, his erection straining to be let free.

When they'd first started making love, he'd taken great care to be gentle, loving, and attentive. But throughout the course of the last year, she'd been persuading him to let go. He discovered that actions he thought scandalous, even deviant, Helen thought exciting and invigorating. He feared the perverse side she was bringing out in him, but at the same time reveled in the erotic pleasure of knowing what went on beneath the curled, blonde hair and wide, blue eyes. He knew, in the back of his mind, where she'd learned such things, who she'd learned them from, but had taught himself not to dwell, else he drive himself mad. Seeing her lapping at his fingers, covered with her own essence, was beyond arousing.

When he was clean, James pulled his hand from her mouth and immediately shoved it back inside her. Her body jerked, and her eyes fluttered. He fit three fingers within her, flexing, rubbing, twisting about until she was clenching around him and laying her arm across her mouth, biting her sleeve to muffle her cries as she went over the edge. He dove down, still inside, and wrapped his lips around her most sensitive bud, sucking fervently, and she peaked again.

When James finally pulled out of her there were tears on her face and her chest was heaving.

"Dear God," she whispered, her voice strained. James watched, fascinated, as her look of pleasure turned to confusion and frustration.

"I don't understand," she complained, still breathless. "I never climax that quickly."

"Or so often," James observed.

"Oh lord," she retorted. "Could you not be quite so bloody smug?" Her words were harsh, but her voice was teasing in tone.

"I'm not going to apologize," he said in a firm voice that sent tingles through her womb. At the beginning of their courtship he would almost always do what she told him, disagreeing only when it came to matters of the police or something they both knew he was more knowledgeable in. He'd treated her as he thought a man should treat a woman. After a year together, he no longer censored himself. He would disagree, disobey, and blatantly frustrate her.

She loved it.

James treated her as an equal. Yes, he still opened the door for her, pulled out her chair and escorted her on his arm, but that was because he was a gentleman, and it was expected. He and Helen pushed the boundaries of acceptance all the time, but there was no need to throw it in people's faces. If Helen were observed getting out of a car on her own, James would be severely scorned. In short, it was simply polite. Helen was fine with men being truly gentlemanly, or well-mannered. It was when they were patronizing or controlling that she rebuked.

In the privacy of their own home, or in this case, train quarters, they were free to act as they pleased.

"James," Helen suddenly spoke. "They haven't checked our tickets yet."

James nodded, realizing this was true.

"What if the conductor walks in?" she asked.

James pshawed, brushing the idea aside. "They would never do that. He'll knock first."

"And what are we supposed to say?"

"I will inform him that I am ravishing my lady, and that he should return at a much later time."

Helen laughed, swatting him on the arm.

"Really, James, shouldn't we be prepared?"

James sighed, knowing there was but one way he could distract her from her logic. He thrust his fingers inside her.

"I'd say you're more than prepared," he said, voice even, clinical, her body the experiment he was fine tuning.

She growled lightly at him, the sound shooting to his groin as she grabbed his wrist and removed him.

"James," she admonished.

"I'm not going to stop," he told her. His voice was serious. He would make sure she thought only of him this weekend. No dashing Lord Benbrook, or anyone else, would catch her eye this time. If they tried, he would not be so forgiving or so flippant as the year before. She was his now, in every way one could hold another's heart. Helen sighed, seeing the conviction in his eyes.

"Tell me what's been happening, then," she acquiesced. "Why is the pleasure so great?" she was loathe to feed his ego so, but the scientist in her needed to know.

"It's the train itself," he admitted.

"What do you mean?"

His face lit with delight. It was a rare treat to see Helen so confused, unable to figure something out. He shifted so that his face was poised above her center. When he spoke his hot breath washed over her, and she shivered.

"It's the vibrations, my dear. The rocking back and forth of the train on its track."

Helen closed her eyes and concentrated, finding that she could indeed feel the gentle, swaying motion.

"It keeps your senses on high alert, your nerves awake," James continued. "You don't realize it, but every cell in your body is tense, on edge. Your senses are heightened due to the unnatural setting your body has found itself in."

Helen was amazed. How many train trips, and she'd never realized? Everyone knew that trains rocked about, but she'd never thought it could be used as an advantage in the bedroom.

"I need not even move," his voice was deep and throaty. He dipped down and put his lips and tongue against her, an open, wet kiss, then moved no more.

After a few seconds, Helen's surprise grew to astonishment. The gentle side sway caused their bodies to shift minutely. The circulation of the gears sent soft vibrations through them, James' lips thrumming against her. Her pleasure built slower than before, but build it did. James waited patiently, flush against her, savouring her taste and the little noises she made as the atmosphere of the room grew charged, electric. James' mind was muddled, and being but a poor man in love, he couldn't resist action for too long. He hummed, the vibrations through her core intensifying, rolling in tingling waves, sending her to another level with a gradual but constant mounting of sensation.

Helen's orgasm was softer this time, but no less delicious. She held her breath, sighing out, mouth working open and closed. She started to drift off to sleep after, but James' fingers undoing the fastenings of her dress woke her up.

"James, no," she protested weakly, batting away his hands. "No more today."

James would hear none of it.

"Don't be selfish, Helen," he responded.

She let her gaze travel down his body, noticing he was completely unclothed. Perhaps she'd drifted off for a time after all. James' manhood stood stiffly at attention. A rush of shame ran through her. How perfectly dreadful she'd been, taking all the pleasure for herself without a thought for his. Not that he'd given her much choice.

"I'm sorry, love," she murmured, and sat up, reaching out for him.

"Ah, ah," he gripped her shoulders, holding her in place. "This will more than make up for it," he assured her. She let him pull her dress up above her head, and off, her underthings swiftly following. He pushed her down and stretched out above her, his lean body not failing to reignite her passion.

Helen had always believed the female orgasm was at least 90% mental. It was rather easy for a man to be physically brought to climax, but a woman had to be coaxed, encouraged. She strongly believed that the heart and mind had to be engaged to fully surrender to the bliss of intercourse. James was being most persuasive today, and she was more than happy to give into it.

James placed his thumb and forefinger on the nipple of a plump, naked breast. He held its peak tight between his fingers then pushed outward, stretching it. He held his fingers in place on the edge of her soft areola. He watched as the heat of his hand and the little shockwaves from the train fizzled through her, and her nipple grew hard beneath his gaze. James sighed, and captured it in his mouth, lazily sucking on her. He couldn't put into words how he loved her body. Her mind, heart, and soul as well, of course, but it was almost fictional, how it could all be encased within such a divine form.

He feasted on her full breasts as she kneaded the muscles of his back and shoulders. Her hands drifted down to squeeze his tight bottom, and he shuddered. James pulled back and looked down at her, slick with his saliva, gazing up at him with her luminous, blue eyes.

Helen spread her legs wide and took him in her hands. He was rock hard, but his skin was soft as velvet. He wrapped his hand about hers, slowing her. Together, they guided him to her entrance. As his tip slipped between her folds to nudge at her opening, he prayed for the strength to do this right. As James stilled, Helen frowned, tilting her hips to try pulling him in, but he evaded her.

"Experiment's not done," he said in a low voice, already unable to form a longer sentence. Helen resigned herself to the fact that she was too curious to argue. She knew it would be worth it in the end.

James held himself perfectly still. By the smallest of degrees, he began to enter her, the buzzing of the train guiding his movements. Time melted away as they focused entirely on each other and the sensations coursing through their bodies. They'd always enjoyed making love but had never taken the time to really analyze and appreciate every fine nuance in this, the moment of entry.

It was exquisite.

It was ecstasy.

Helen could feel every inch of his member as he slid in, as he could feel every ridge and wall of her center. They throbbed in unison, flames burning within as they waited, praying the train would speed up or shake. Their eyes stayed glued upon the others, seeing every twitch and vibration as they fought to stay in control. When they could stand it no longer James leaned down, careful to keep his lower half still, and kissed her. She kissed back with passion, his tongue thrusting into her mouth as they both wished he could do below. Their mouths fought deeply as their legs grew heavy with tension. Eventually they couldn't breathe, and pulled back to see the other's flushed face.

"God…" James choked at the slow torture he was putting himself through.

"Please," Helen begged.

"No!" he persisted. They were so close; they had to follow this through. Helen wasn't sure if her already over-taxed body could handle this. The pleasure was bordering pain, her core on fire.

By the time he was mostly inside her, they were drenched with sweat, their eyes glazed, bodies shaking with the sustained, tense pleasure they were immersed in. They were livewires, ready to snap and explode at any second.

The train approached a crossroads in the track. With a sudden lurch, it diverted onto the leftmost path. The movement sent James plunging in the rest of the way, lodging tight against her cervix, suddenly slamming into her g-spot.

Helen screamed at the sudden explosion after so long on the brink, coming hard, fast, and completely. James took the move as a sign that his test was over, and started to thrust into her with abandon. Helen was so delirious that she barely noticed James was moving, though the bed squeaked and trembled with every shift. Within moments, James was coming, legs shaking with the strength of his climax. Helen registered the rush of heat he poured into her, vaguely seeing his strained, red face. Her over-stimulated body triggered, and she came one last time, weakly, but sweetly. James collapsed on top of her, completely spent. They instantly fell asleep.

The train squealed, and James opened his eyes. They had stopped. He was instantly awake, pushing off of Helen's immobile form, sticking slightly where their sweaty bodies had dried together. His body was slow and sluggish, still not recovered, but with the practiced mind of a detective, he forced himself to focus.

"Helen!" he called urgently, shaking her awake. She opened her eyes reluctantly, exhausted. "Quickly, darling, we need to dress; we've arrived!" he informed her, rolling off the bed and scrambling to find his clothes. Helen groaned and sat up, her entire body aching, sweet pain pulsing between her thighs. Her hair was mussed, and her lips were swollen. James thought she'd never looked more beautiful.

"We're here?" Helen asked in a sleepy voice, still not comprehending James' urgency. He made an exasperated sound and paused mid-dress, walking over to her and grasping her shoulders.

"Helen," he said in a firm voice, looking her straight in the eye. "The train has arrived at our station. We need to be clothed before someone comes to inquire as to why we haven't exited yet."

Helen's eyes grew wide with understanding. She looked down at herself, then around the room where her clothes were draped haphazardly over various surfaces.

"Right," she nodded, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing up. Her legs shook and would have buckled if James wasn't there to catch her.

"Bloody hell," she muttered in consternation. James let loose a short laugh as he buttoned his shirt, both at her statement and the fact that she'd sworn so much that day. She glared at him fiercely, and his mouth clapped shut.

"What on earth prompted you to be so determined to reduce me to a puddle of goo?" she groused as she bent to pick up her stockings, wincing as every muscle protested. She hadn't had to move a lot while they'd made love, but her muscles had been taut and strained the entire time. She felt like she'd just swum across the entire English Channel.

"I told you; experimentation," he replied, tying his shoes and moving to help Helen pull her various clothes on.

"All in the name of science was it?" she asked sarcastically.

"Precisely," he smiled back.

"How did you know the train's movements would have that effect on me?" she inquired, immensely curious. To her knowledge, he'd never taken another lady friend on any train trips. But while she'd known him a long time, she hadn't known him forever.

"Logic and knowledge," he told her. "I surmised it through the study of physics; motion, speeds, and angles, as well as engineering."

Helen shook her head at him as she tried to manipulate her shaking hands to fix the ties on her bodice. Of course James would have such a logical explanation.

"The construction of trains, as with any moving vehicle, is hardly efficient. I doubt engineers will ever achieve perfect, smooth movement."

"And you decided to take advantage of that?"

"Indeed I did," he grinned. She couldn't help but smile back.

A knock at the door startled them out of the moment.

"Sorry to intrude, doctors," sounded the voice of the conductor. "Is everything alright?" They had almost finished de-boarding. One of the luggage boys had reported strange noises emanating from their room, followed by sudden silence. He feared for the safety of his esteemed passengers. The doctors in question came to the conclusion that, miraculously, no one had attempted to gain their attention or check for tickets while they'd been otherwise occupied.

"Yes, quite alright," James replied gruffly. "Dr. Magnus has fallen and most unfortunately sprained her sartorius muscle. We'll just be a moment."

Helen gaped at him.

"I've done what?"

"Darling, look at yourself," James defended. "You can barely stand up. Do you not expect questions to follow when you limp out of here?"

Her faced burned bright at the truth of his statement.

"Damn you," she muttered under her breath. She knew she would need his support to walk properly, and hated to appear so weak. Call her paranoid, but she was sure Lady Benbrook would see straight through them. They surely reeked of sex. Helen rubbed a hand tiredly over her face. Dear God, what an embarrassing situation! She disliked the significance of reputations in the days' society, but knew she had to keep hers up, especially at such places as Barn Hall Manor, where so many potential endorsers could be found. She looked at James. He looked suddenly remorseful, worried, and her heart softened. How could she be cross with a man who'd just pleasured her no less than five times?

She reached out and touched his arm affectionately.

"We'll make do," she said, forgiving him. Lady Benbrook would probably find the whole situation scintillatingly funny. It might even improve Helen's status in her mind. James gently stroked her cheek.

"I've wanted to try that with you for some time now," he admitted. A shiver ran through her. She could only imagine what else that brilliant mind could have in store for her.

It really paid to be in love with a genius.

The End.

204, the number of their compartment, was the number of the first apartment I lived in when I moved out of home! *sigh* Ah, memories. If only they'd been as exciting as Helen and James' time here ;) I was actually disappointed with the way this story came out; don't' know why. It hung out on my computer for months, until I finally chucked it off to NoCleverSig, who told me it was Ok…. I hope you all agree :S Anyone want to see some stories with "the other things that brilliant mind could come up with" ! ;) Much love to all! MSam