And so we land. A steamy, starry night in Rome. Surrounded by tourists, jostled through the baggage collection, and out of the airport to the taxi rank.
Rumpled and tired, standing in line we wait for our turn to load our bags into a boot - holding hands, touching and teasing. Finally we are next, and jump into the back of a cab, attempting in bad Italian to offer the direction of our hotel, and finally, relax into the plush plastic upholstery, standard internationally.
I take the center seat, and lay my head against your shoulder, relaxed, excited, amazed to be here. You smile down at me, and begin to massage my near thigh through the light cotton of my skirt. What begins as an affectionate pat, soon turns to more, as I respond to your hand.
You smile as you watch my body's reaction, seeing my nipples pearl through the soft white top, feeling my thigh drop against yours, offering access to more. Your smile turns to a grin as my hand begins to mimic yours, sliding along the denim that covers your well muscled thighs - nails scraping, strokes increasing, moving further up your leg.
I look up and catch the eye of the taxi driver - glancing continuously in the rear vision mirror, obviously having trouble concentrating on the road, and smile to myself as he moves the mirror for a different view.
Deciding to give him something worth watching, I raise my knee, letting my thigh fall against you, spreading my legs, and forcing my skirt to rise to my hips. You happily accept the blatant offer, and slide your hand further up my thigh, finally noticing that I had removed my panties after somewhere between arriving in Italy, and jumping in the cab...and that my nakedness was obvious to more than just you.
