It's about 8:30 pm in Manhattan, dark outside, Lana & Will get into their cab to catch their plane at LaGuardia. Lana, of course, is wearing her shortest mini-dress, this time with custom-made cheekless panties festooned with bright red tamales, and of course she enters the cab carelessly, risking that the cab driver will see most of her tamales, and the driver pretends to avert his gaze, but his bulging trousers indicate a less than sincere gaze aversion.
So Will, inspired by her antics, as always, waits for the cab to pull into traffic, puts one arm around his beloved's shoulder, and puts the free hand between her legs -- simple to do, because she's sitting in the cab about as carelessly as she got into it. So Will's unimpeded right hand quickly reaches Lana's mound and begins rubbing her clit through her panties -- and he whispers (audibly apparently) "I'll bet I can make you cum before we reach the airport."
As he pushes aside the flimsy fabric of the panties, Will plunges two fingers into her predictably wet pussy, and begins a measured but sturdy slow finger-fuck. At about the same time, the cab driver makes a massive readjustment of his rear-view mirror, apparently more interested in Will's progress than in the bustling, ominous looking bus and cab traffic behind him.
Lana begins sighing and moaning audibly, but Will figures, "What the hell," everybody in the cab knows what I'm doing to her, and the cab's windows are up, so nobody of authority will suspect untoward behavior in the cab. He continues his sturdy, measured penetration, although at one point they drive by a traffic cop, and Will does slow his pace and say "Shhh, Babes." But he was pretty sure he was being overly cautious.
Will is soon so confident of victory, he again feels comfortable slowing the pace of the fucking fingers. It was apparently one of Lana's hormonal days, or she was thinking about an old lover, or something like that, because her legs were now practically spread-eagled, she had pulled her skirt to waist level, and she was vigorously rubbing her own clit.
Will says, "God, Babes, you're helping me win the bet." And Lana gasps, "Oh fuck, I don't care... I AM SO FUCKING HORNY.".... And Will glances toward the driver whose neck and cheek are now aflame, and he is reaching to fine-tune his rear-view mirror setting while Lana thrashes and moans and continues rubbing herself.
Will is now actively concerned; not about winning the bet -- now assured -- but at having created a half-crazed sex monster in the relatively cramped back seat of a Honda Accord New York taxi. He tries several times to shush her and tell her to be quieter but he fails miserably every time... she just gets louder. He tries to quiet the din by a successful finger fuck orgasm but that fails too -- she is at some new level of erotic lust.
[Will would learn later from a doctor friend that Lana had spiraled into a rare condition known as Hyper Orgasmic Delirium, causes unclear, but it can cause victims to aggressively seek relief, even in the cramped back seat of Honda Accord taxi cabs.}
So, running out of options, Will leans forward and says to the cab driver, "Will it bother your driving if I give her a quick fucking? I think it's the only way to shut her up"
And the driver nods emphatically, "It's fine -- in fact it's important, there's a manned toll both in a couple miles, and there's no way I can drive through that booth with her sounding like a one-woman porn orgy scene. -- just one minute, though, let me adjust this mirror."
So Will refocuses on the challenge at hand -- now her eyes are near glazed, still rubbing her clit, thighs gaping obscenely, one breast now unleashed from her blouse, the nipple showing signs of serious finger-pinching. Will shifts onto her lap, legs straddling her hips. He gives her gentle but firm slaps on both checks. "Babes, sweetheart, earth to Lana, hello..." But she just begins babbling incoherently... "Fuck me, now, somebody, anybody, all of you -- I need to be fucked.."