"These cabs aren't as big as London cabs, love," he whispered.
"I know, but I can't wait," I said. "I've got to have you, now. Besides, we're lucky we got one with leg room," I giggled, slurring a bit, shifting my black-stockinged legs across his suited ones on his side of the back seat, letting my high-heeled pump dangle from my foot and my short velvet skirt ride up my smooth thighs, revealing the lacy tops of my stockings and matching garters.
From the drivers' seat, a pair of dark flashing eyes watched, intently, as honking throngs of post-theater and post-concert Manhattan traffic ground to a near-halt approaching Columbus Circle.
.............
We'd gone to a cocktail party at the Dakota, a ridiculously boring one. I was wearing a tight black velvet cocktail dress, long-sleeved but low-cut, presumably modest but terribly sexy, showing off my substantial cleavage and long toned legs to perfection.
I'd dressed in those garters, black lace ones, holding up lace-topped black stockings, neither of which I well knew he couldn't resist. The dress was just long enough to cover the stocking tops and just safe enough to risk a thong, daring even for me. Nothing else but simple diamonds in my ears, upswept dark curls and high heels were required, and not a man in the room could keep their eyes off me.
Six feet tall, voluptuous, and all his. But on display for all to see...
Just because I arrived on the arm of the handsomest man in the room didn't mean I couldn't flirt with all the rest, and that made him insane. Insane, and horny.
Leaning into a crowd of stockbrokers, tossing my head back in fake-laughter, touching the shoulder of my firms' senior partner, resting my hand on a woman's' knee...glass after glass of champagne and the feel of velvet and lace on my bare thighs and ass, and I was an unstoppable flirt.
At one point I felt a strong hand at the small of my back; even in heels, he was a shade taller than I. I flashed my sweetest smile at a group of handsome but dull Swedish insurance executives and strode away, with a bit more of a wiggle than necessary.
We were on the balcony, alone, and I could feel stray curls coming loose. "Now, Andrew, darling, is there a problem?"
"Alexa," he hissed, "you are showing yourself far too much here! These are your colleagues and mine! What will they-"
I put a burgundy-tipped finger on his full lips. "Shhhh, love. Are you saying you don't like how I look?" I gave a quick twirl, showing off my lacy black thong and garters, and bare ass as well, effectively flashing Central Park West from the twentieth-floor balcony.
"Sweetheart!" His dark eyes blazing with anger, he grabbed me around the waist; however, the bulge in his dark suit betrayed his true feelings.
Laughing, I grabbed his hand. "Come, darling. Let's dazzle the Swedes, and we'll be off soon."
.........
"Honey, we'll get arrested!"
"Who's going to call the police? Mr. 7C12?" reading the medallion number. "Besides, I think he's quite enjoying it."
As my pumps dropped to the floor of the cab, and my legs stretched out into my husband's lap, I'd noticed that we were no longer in the fastest lanes down Seventh Avenue, and that a pair of piercing black eyes appeared in the rear view mirror more often than needed for safe driving purposes.
...............
Every time I'd approach the gleaming rosewood bar, I'd lean up against it, unnecessarily, letting my foot dangle from my three-inch patent leather rhinestone-trimmed pump. I'd let my fingers slowly trace along every man's shoulder, and every woman's, for that matter.