The Taxi

Author: Sch

“Where too?” Jason asked, looking in the mirror. A nicely dressed couple now inhabited the back seat of his cab. The man had dark hair, a fair complexion, and the looks that a woman would find pleasing. The woman… the woman was hot. She had long black hair and a complicated black dress with a lot of frills. She was the typical perfect rich bitch which he usually saw climbing into the back of a limo. Tonight he was getting lucky, a rich fare and a big tip.

“San Simian,” the man said with a smirk.
“Only in this city, Mack,” Jason said in a bored voice. It had been a long day, it was approaching midnight, and Jason was in no mood for upper-crust humor.
“12th and Michigan Avenue,” the man said. The hackles stood up on the back of Jason’s neck. He slowed the taxi and pulled over to the side. They looked around, then looked at him in the mirror with some confusion.

“Why are we stopping?” the man demanded.
“Because you don’t look like the kind of people who would frequent Michigan Avenue,” Jason said, slamming the taxi into park.
“So nobody makes drug deals from my cab. If you want to go home, I will be happy to drive you. If you are looking for a score, then you had better walk.”

“If I wanted to go home, I would have taken my limo,” the man muttered, laughing.
“Shhhh, he’s onto us,” the woman said in an exaggerated whisper, intended for Jason’s ears.
“How about a 1000 dollar tip?” the man said with a leer.
“The lady can stay, but you get out,” Jason turned and looked a the man. He spoke in a cold, unforgiving tone.

“Come on, dear, the MAN doesn’t want us to ride with him,” he sneered, opening his door.
“I’m beat, David. I think I will take the cab home. You go on.”
“Whaa…” he started to object. His face took on a pathetic, boyish quality that Jason found revolting. It was obviously an act. Jason slammed the transmission into drive and the door slammed in the man’s face. Jason could hear him yelling as he chased the cab, but Jason ignored him.

“That was very rude,” the woman said.
“You don’t need to be dragged down by that kind of trash,” Jason said, still driving without a destination.
“He’s hardly trash. He’s the son of one of the richest men in New York.”
“Rich trash is still trash. Besides, being somebody’s son, doesn’t make you anything more than a slip of birth control.”
“Does that apply to women as well?”
“Absolutely. I am an equal opportunity asshole.”

The woman laughed, the first real noise she had made since she climbed into the cab. She turned and stretched her long legs out on the seat. Jason could see them from the night portion of his mirror. They were friggin perfect. She kinked one knee, which allowed her dress to open and slide down her leg. Jason suddenly found it hard to drive. The dark top of her stocking came right up within a foot of her pelvis, and Jason could see it clearly.

“That’s quite a set of leg you have,” he said daringly.
“It’s the only pair I’ve ever owned, so I take care of them. I like them,” she airily admitted, running her hand up and down her long, sensuous leg.
The street lights passed, lighting her delicious legs intermittently as they passed. Neither spoke for several minutes.
“You don’t look happy,” he finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“I’m tired, tired of this whole mess,” she sighed. “I’m tired of being a senator’s daughter, tired of saying only the right things at the right times, tired of it all,” she said, looking up at him in the mirror.
“Have you ever tried slumming?” he asked hopefully.
“You mean fuck one of the dirty, unwashed masses?” she smiled.
“Only my mind is dirty, the rest of me took a shower about 7 hours ago.”
“You?” she seemed to be thinking about his proposition. “Ah, where are we going?” she asked, quickly looking around. One side of the street was walled by tall buildings, the other was a wilderness.
“I have no idea. Central Park I guess.”
“I don’t know, you look uptown to me. Where are you going?”
“Daddy’s yacht.”
“Oh, sorry,” he laughed, making a u-turn in the middle of the street. Once again, silence descended between the two of them. He kept track of her legs in the mirror. He could only see them in the upper “night” portion of the mirror, so they were lit in all their splendid glory for a moment, then faded as the lights passed behind them. She caught him eying her in the mirror. She began running her hand up and down her thigh, while maintaining eye contact. As her hand touched the crotch of her panties, Jason’s eyes bugged out. He found it impossible to keep an eye on her, while watching traffic, pedestrians, and traffic signals. He glanced over at the parking area at the edge of central park and immediately pulled over. Cars honked and weaved to avoid him. He pulled into a parking place and cut the engine.

“We’re stopping?” she asked, suddenly amused.
“Yeah,” he turned to look at her. “Your place or mine?” he asked patting the front seat of the cab.

“It had better be mine, your’s is a bit cramped.” He locked the front doors, turned and slid the bullet proof plexiglass aside. Like a snake, he slithered into the back seat. He locked the back doors as well. Central Park was not the safest place at night. He didn’t want to be killed, while enjoying the classiest fuck of his life.
“I don’t kiss,” she said as he moved close, looking at her cherry red lips.
“The hell you don’t.”

“I don’t believe in it. Kissing is a disgusting, dirty…” her words were cut off by Jason’s lips. He held the back of her head, while he mashed his lips against her’s. He knew he was destroying a pair of lips adorned by designer lipstick, but he didn’t care. They were soft and responsive, that’s all that mattered to him.

He was surprised to find her tongue suddenly probing his mouth. For a woman who didn’t kiss, she was very good at it.

Jason ran his hand up her left leg and cupped his hand over the warm mound of her panties. It was silky soft and very hot. Her legs were slender and absolutely perfect. He imagined that she had somebody who measured them each day too make sure. He had not doubt that their love-making would be figured into her “calories burned” calculations for the next day.

“Wait,” she woman said, opening the top of her dress. She pulled a cone shaped breast from the top of all that fabric and presented it to him. He dove forward and captured the dark nipple with a large areola in his mouth and sucked urgently.

“Oh yes, I can feel that clear down to my pussy,” she whispered. He lightly rubbed her mound through the material of her panties. It was so hot. He knew he would be rubbing wetness in a moment. She was one sexy little bitch.

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