Chapter 3. CAB RIDE
7 drunken students file out of M1NT in Shanghai on the Bund.
Wow Talia's still here?
She was giggling and hanging over some new guy as a tired girl I didn't know follows close behind us. She's on her phone and looks alert.
The street is chaos, packed full of taxi cabs vying for the attention and dollars of club patrons making their way back home.
Hunter keeps a protective hand on my waist as I try to make my way through the crowd without making contact with any grimy sweaty men. Up ahead I spot Alex flagging down a cab holding onto Sam.
Under normal circumstances as responsible adults, we would probably take 2 separate cabs, but we are college students studying abroad and low on funds and I know we're going to try cramming into one taxi. There are no subways or buses between city center and dorms in the suburbs.
Plus, the conversation rate from USD to Yuan means taxis in Shanghai are super cheap!
The taxi driver seems a bit disgruntled as we all started filing in at the same time. Alex in broken Chinese, starts explaining to him our address with him as the rest of us pile in while he's distracted.
Hunter, still holding my hand, waits for others to go first, then drags me in after him so that we are last to enter. Makes sense, he's too tall to sit in the middle, I think to myself. I step into the cab, grabbing the door to swing shut behind me.
Ooof!
There's quickly realize there's nowhere to move. I clutch his shirt and feel my heart start to race as I settle onto his knee and angle my back towards everyone else. I realize that in the cramped space, since I'm smaller, I can manage a crouch without my head bumping into the ceiling of the taxi. However, the downside is I have to lean forward towards his face. Under the bright street lights, I suddenly felt a bit embarrassed and vulnerable.
I can either tuck my head under his chin all cute or stay propped up, and I try my best to stay upright, trying to maintain a sense of dignity. I shift around and try to find somewhere to place my arms.
The cab hits a bump in the road and I start as I'm jolted forward. I slip straight onto his lap and I grab onto his shoulder to steady myself. Hunter really can't move much at the point but his arms move to help me sit up. I lean against deliciously hard abs as my butt wiggles unconsciously on his lap. It's actually quite comfy, I feel warm and cozy and sigh with relief.
I smile and lean into his ear to whisper amidst drunken shouting and loud music.
"Sorry about this, sure you're not too squished?" I kiss his neck, yummy.
He smirks, brushing his hair out of his eyes.
"I'm pretty good just don't wiggle too much".
Another bump in the road as we enter the highway makes me realize I'm not just sitting on a belt buckle, something long and hard is pressing into my backside. I'm a little sleepy and delirious and zero in on the sensation, leaning my head against his chest. The ride is going to be a full 20 minutes and I really needed to keep my mind occupied.
"Um, so tell me about, um, Texas! You and James went to school together?"
His piercing blue eyes look secretive and he smirks.
"Yeah my parents run a music group there, I worked with them to build the company for a few years but lately I've been traveling"
Music! I can talk about that!
I'm a state-level concert pianist. Having spent 2 hours every day since I was little practicing piano, I can handle this conversation. I struggle to think of some composers and tried to ignore the heat gathering below.
His arms have settled around my back and waist, I feel his fingers start to stroke my hip. It makes me shiver and draws out tingles.
"Oh that's awesome, I played piano for 15 years, do you play an instrument?"
I cringe internally, can I sound any dumber? Yeah let's just pull out our resumes and start comparing notes.
"Yeah I'm a pianist too, who's your favorite composer?"
This is a test, he can judge me on my answer. Must think of cool answer.
All the while his long fingertips dance lightly along hips while his other hand starts to stroke my thigh. It feels so good, I sigh and adjust my head so my ear lays flat on his chest and I can hear the rumble in his chest when he speaks.
Focus! Who is a composer I can share that won't make me look too much like a newbie but not a nerd?
Beethoven is the obviously over-used answer. Mozart is also pretty commonplace, pretty boring in style. I think about my favorite pieces, the romantic slow waltzes and silent loneliness of Debussy. I will also get bonus points for pronouncing his name correctly.
"Debussy is my favorite, I know it's cliché but I love Claire de Lune."
"Wow, of course YOU would love Debussy."
His fingers sink down on my thighs, palms tracing a circle back and forth.
I meet his eyes and glare, raising an eyebrow.
"Excuse me? What about you? Who's your favorite then?"
"I play a lot of Rachmaninov," he shrugs like it's nothing.
Of course he would love Rachmaninov, a composer famed for chaos and strength who can only be appreciated by those who understand music and can look past the cacophonous mess of chords. It fits him.
Here is my chance to act all cute and play damsel in distress, as if I'm not already distressed enough with panties getting wetter by the second and trembling thighs.
"Wow, um, Rachmaninov is really difficult to play with small hands, see?"
I pout and remove my hands from his leg, holding both my hands up for him to see.
"I think one of your hands is like two of mine!"
That's a lie of course, hand size doesn't really matter that much if you have the technique to make up for it. I can easily perform the works of Rachmaninov, Liszt, and Chopin, all pianists famed for their large hand sizes, and have won competitions playing their pieces on stage.
He plays along and raises his palm from my thighs to compare. I watch his fingers stretch much wider than mine and bite my lip, just imagining those fingers pushing into my wetness below.
"Yeah your hands look like baby hands. Gonna need some stretching."
