Sitting in the back of the limousine, it was easy to imagine lying back on a boat, slipping down a river as the sun shone brightly above, its rays warming my skin. Only the river was a road, the sun were a series of street lamps and the night's heat cooled by the stream of cool air from the cars vents. I look across to the driver, strands of blonde hair slipping from below her cap, her elfin ear attentive, eyes looking forward. Her jacket smooth, framing a white shirt and tie, and only giving a hint of the sumptuous breasts that lay hidden below the layers of fabric.
She was the epitome of focus as she steered the large car through the light evening traffic. Fast enough to keep up with traffic but slow enough for me to leer at the talent through the darkened windows. The traffic lights now red, her hands on the wheel, I studied her more intently, her curves hidden by the uniform she wore, her slim athletic legs encased in slacks, her gloved hands resting lightly on the steering wheel. I could see her eyes looking forward, her smooth pale skin glowing from the dashboard lights, her neck exposed to me.
I could have her park the car in a side street; get her to climb into the back through the privacy window. Her small hands slowly revealed as she pulls the fingers from her gloves. Bare hands sliding the zipper down my trousers, her slim fingers reaching inside my pants as her tongue licks her lips in anticipation of her reward. My thoughts interrupted by the motion of the car suddenly coming to a halt as my driver was forced to brake to avoid hitting a woman crossing in front of us, her breasts moving freely and unencumbered below a white halter neck blouse, her hips encased by a tight pencil skirt and her calves in black hosiery.
"Sorry Sir," the Driver apologised, her irritation given away by the tightening of her neck muscle.
"It's okay, Driver."
I looked out the window and saw the offending woman as she walked alongside the car, now slowed by traffic. She was a picture of concentration as she made her way through the Friday night herds, ignoring drunken offers, sidestepping the ass grabbers, not making eye contact, intent on navigating a clear path. The limousine slowly pulled ahead, leaving her in our wake when I made a decision.
"Driver, pull over," I ordered.
"Yes, Sir," the Driver replied, flicking the indicator to warn those behind us.
I waited a few moments before throwing the door open, blocking the path of the skirted woman, her anger shining in her eyes momentarily, her body stiffening before she a took a timid steps into the limousine, sitting in the opposite corner, as far away from me as she can possibly get, wildly eyeing the interior. Closing the door, I order the Driver back on the road, and I see a smirk on her face as I close the privacy glass between us.
She reminded me of a cat, the way she backed into the corner of the seat, bare arms taught at her side, ready to spring into action. Her eyes suddenly focused on me as I pour some scotch over ice I had in an otherwise empty glass. I waved the glass in her face before sitting back and taking a sip, the silky blend warming my throat.
She let go the breath she was holding, and looked directly at me as I allowed my eyes to travel down her torso, focusing on the expanse of skin exposed between her firm ripe breasts, a tantalising glimpse of what lay hidden beneath the pale ivory fabric. Moving passed her hips, and to her knees stretching the fabric of what I assumed would be stockings given the heat of the evening so far. Her legs moving away from me, exposing the profile of her calf and ankles, her feet slipped into dainty stiletto style heels.
She was now staring out through the window closest to her, trying to force her whole body through the closed door, an impossible escape now that she'd let herself be caught. Her fore arms having moved to hide her breasts, her breathing quickening under my gaze. More from panic than anything else, I guess.
"What do you want from me?" she asked in a forced politeness.
I kept my silence focusing on her face, her shoulder length hair framing her face. Turning away only serving to expose a smooth skinned back covered by a smattering of freckles, its whiteness testimony to its protection from the sun. Her slim hips pivoting to give me a glimpse of an encased buttock.
Taking a sip from my glass, I ask: "Coming or going?"
"What?" her gaze moving away from the outside world to briefly look into my eyes, before bowing her head and returning her stare to the glass.
"I was just wondering, given the time and the way you are dressed, whether you are on your way out, to find yourself a big cock of a man to fuck you senseless or you've been sadly disappointed by some limp dick and you're on your way home to find some satisfaction with the plastic fantastic you keep hidden in your side table."
"Fuck you, I don't have to take this," she said as she raised her hand to the door's handle but not using it to open the door.
"Go ahead...the door's not locked. You can leave whenever you want."
I looked away from her, finishing the scotch and looking at the drunks stumbling along the pavement. From the corner of my eye, I could see her shifting in her seat, turning towards me.
"I'm coming," she finally said, "I'm coming home."
"And the limp dick?" I asked, still looking out the window.
"A bad date."
"Did you suck his cock?"
"No!" She protested, shaking her head.
"Did you want to?" I asked as I turned to her, seeing her face blush slightly. "Or should I say, you just wanted something hard in your mouth and your date was to much of a pussy to satisfy your need."
"I don't need it," she said.
