THREE
Sure enough, I was in trouble. It was close to the end of my shift by
the time I got back to the cab, and though I managed to pick up two more short
trips before I had to go into the garage, I had been off duty too long for it
not to be apparent in the money I had taken in.
Eddie Osindorf, the garage owner, checked everybody's receipts when they
came in. You had to check out with him in his little office before you went
home. He was a suspicious type , and he knew all the angles the drivers used to
cheat the owners and keep a little more for themselves--he used to be a driver
too. He was one of Mrs. Harris' stereotypes--middle-aged, paunchy, balding and
bad-tempered. He didn't smoke cigars though. He chewed gum.
He looked at the record of how much I had brought in, and scowled. He
glanced up at me swiftly, his eyes narrow. I tried to look innocent. He started
to say something, then decided to hold off. He grabbed up my trip sheet and
studied it. The scowl got deeper.
"What the fuck is this?"
"What?" I said, playing it cool.
He gave me the look again. "Don't fuck with me, kid. You got a big hole
here. Over two hourse, nothin' listed. Whaddaya tryin' to pull?"
"Nothing. I...I had a little...distraction."
"What the fuck does that mean? You brought in shit here! What the hell
were ya doin', jerkin' off, for Chrissake?"
The idea of telling him the truth didn't seem so hot any more. By that
time I hardly believed it myself. I sighed, seeing my new job go out the window.
"Never mind," I said. "You wouldn't believe it anyway."
"Goddam right I wouldn't! I know what you were doin'. Ridin' around with
the meter off, piling up all the fares for yourself. You think you can get away
with that crap? With me?! And on your first fuckin' day, too. Jesus!"
"I wasn't," I protested. "I just--"
"Hey, don't shit me, kid, I can check the mileage. That what you want?"
"Check it." I was beginning to get tired of his yelling. He was going to
fire me, so I didn't give a damn any more. "I wasn't trying to grab any of your
precious pennies. I had to leave the cab for a while, that's all."
He glared at me. I think he could tell I wasn't lying, but he didn't
want to admit it. Finally he said skeptically, "Now why in the motherfuckin'
world would you do a thing like that?"
So I told him.
I didn't intend to go into all the details, just to explain that a woman
had taken me to her apartment, for whatever good that explanation might do. I
mean, I did need the damn job and wanted to keep it if possible. But as I got
into it, the whole story just started coming out, as though it was so weird that
I just couldn't keep it inside me.
He listened to me without saying anything, but his eyes widened and his
jaw went slack--he actually stopped chewing his gum for a while. When I finished
he shook his head. "Jesus H. Christ!" he said in amazement. "That is the biggest
fuckin' piece of bullshit I have ever heard!" Then he started to laugh. "Get
outta here, kid," he said. "You're fired, but you oughta go on the radio or
somethin'. You'd make a fuckin' fortune!"
"But it's true," I said stubbornly. "And if you don't believe me, I'll
give you the address and you can go there yourself. They said I could."
He laughed again, louder. "Fuck that," he chortled. "Let THEM come down
here and see ME!"
"Maybe they will."
He stopped laughing suddenly and leaned forward over his battered desk,
pointing a finger at me and scowling again. "Don't press your luck, kid. I'm
lettin' you off easy 'cause you at least made up a lie that was sexy, which is
more than I get from most of these assholes. But you're through here, so get the
fuck out. Period!"
So I went. Period.
#
When I got home I was feeling lousy. I looked in the phone book to see
if I could find Mrs. Harris' number. There were several pages of Harrises, and I
didn't feel up to looking through them for the address, so I said the hell with
it.
But that was before Patricia came home.
Home was a kind of tacky walk-up in what in better days was known as the
East Village, and Patricia was my girl friend. We had met at NYU.--she was
studying psychology, and intended to go on to graduate school. Meanwhile she
worked part-time and summers as a waitress to put herself through. She was smart
and sensible, and damn nice looking, too. She was almost as tall as me, kind of
slender but not too much. Long, very dark hair which she usually wore drawn away
from her face, clipped behind her neck and then flowing down her back. Serious
brown eyes, and a wide mouth which could be serious too but was more often
smiling. We had been living together for six months, and we got along fine. We
were friends as well as lovers, and I liked that.
"Hi," she said, kissing me. "What's wrong?" She could tell I wasn't
awash with joy.
"I got fired."
"Ho ho ho," she said. Then she saw I wasn't kidding. "How come?"
"It's a long story."
"Oh." She put her purse and stuff away, then came and settled down
beside me. "Okay, tell me."
I told her the story. I knew she wouldn't make any silly fuss about my
part in it. That was one reason I liked her so much--she knew what was important
and what wasn't. I didn't have to hide anything and neither did she.
She listened in fascination. "My god!" she said. "That is really KINKY!"
But Patricia was not a girl to be bowled over for very long, and she
immediately got down to practical matters. "So do it," she said. "Call
her--them--up and tell them. Maybe they CAN get your job back."
I shrugged. "I don't know, Pat..."
"It's worth trying, right? And we need the money."
"That's for sure." I felt better now anyway, so I went back to the phone
book and started going through the Harrises. Soon enough I found the address,
listed under B. Harris. THEN I remembered Mrs. Harris had called her husband
Bernard.
I punched in the number--after I got up a little courage. I still could
hardly believe I hadn't dreamed up the whole afternoon.
"Hello." It was Jessica. Clipped and cool.
"Hi. Uh--this is Mel Wulf."
"Yes, Mr. Wulf?" Like I was a stranger. I felt like hanging up. But I
took a breath and started to tell her what had happened with old Osindorf. I
told it all, ending with what he had said about them coming to see him.
"Of course, he was just--I mean, he didn't really believe me. About you.
But if you...I mean you said--uh..." I was floundering like an idiot.
"One moment, please," Jessica said.
She must have covered the receiver. I heard her muffled voice talking to
someone, but I didn't know which of the Harrises it was. Then she was back. "Mr.
Wulf? If you will give me the address of the garage, Mrs. Harris and I will meet
you there tomorrow at ten o'clock."
I gave it to her, and she hung up before I could say anything else.
Over dinner, Pat pumped me for further details. As a budding
psychologist, she was especially interested in the stuff she called "kinky."
Except she didn't call it that when she remembered she was supposed to be
scientific about it. From what I told her, she gave me a detailed psychological
profile of Jennifer and both the Harrises, complete with childhood histories. I
nodded a lot, but that kind of thing was not really up my alley. But then, my
calculators and charts and computer spreadsheets didn't do much to turn her on
either.
We were still talking about it on and off when we went to bed. Lying
beside me, Pat put her hand playfully over my crotch--neither of us ever wore
anything to bed.
"It's had a long day," she said, patting my dick. "I guess the poor
thing must be all tuckered out."
I didn't say anything. Actually I WAS feeling kind of worn out, but I
also knew that Patricia could bring me to life again without too much trouble if
she wanted to. But I didn't know if she was really feeling sexy or if she just
wanted to tease me a little. So I let her take the lead.
"Poor little thing," she murmured, and now she took it in her hand,
wrapping her fingers around its limpness. I felt the old blood stirring already.
She kneaded it very lightly with her fingers, twisting her hand a
little. As she had known damn well it would, it started to grow and thicken as
she held it. She pretended to be surprised. "Oh, my! It seems to be waking up a
little."
She began to stroke it then, gently and persuasively. I tried not to
groan as her skillful fingers did their work. I just lay there and let it get
longer and stiffer by the second.
"What a shame," she said sweetly as her hand slid up and down, "that
it's had all the excercise it can possibly use for one day." And then she
brought her other hand over to help. Ten teasing fingers moved over my cock,
which was just about as alert and erect as it could get. In spite of myself I
could hear my breathing get louder. But still I didn't move.
I thought I could tell by Pat's voice, as she made a few more gently
taunting comments, that she was getting kind of turned on herself. But she kept
stroking and caressing me with loving sensuality. By now I felt as though I
hadn't screwed in a week. My prick was straining and jerking under her hands. My
heart pounded. I kept myself from grabbing her with an effort.
Finally she stopped. "Okay, then," she said. Her voice sounded a little
throaty, but she was still going to have her fun. "I guess it's no use. Some
other time, maybe. Goodnight." And she turned over onto her side, her back
toward me, as if she were going to sleep.
I knew she was just waiting for me to jump her, and it didn't seem like
a bad idea. But I figured I'd give her a little of her own medicine. So I said,
"Okay, goodnight," and turned on my side too, lying there with my cock throbbing
and pointing like a bird dog at her recumbent body, dimly white in the dark
room.
It didn't take long. After a few moments she slid herself slowly
backward, until our bodies touched. She rolled her ass caressingly against my
hard-on.
"Thought you were going to sleep," I whispered.
"Bastard." But her voice wasn't angry. "I want you. Think you can fit me
into your busy schedule?"
"I might be able to manage it." My hand went down to find her cunt from
behind. She drew in a breath. We wriggled ourselves into position. She drew her
legs up in front of her and I guided my cock to her hole. We both gasped as I
worked it inside her.
I slid my arms around her body and cupped her firm, shapely breasts. The
nipples were hard under my palms. Patricia squirmed against me, and I began to
move gently in and out of her.
"Ohh good," she whsipered. "Oh Mel..."
She turned her head around and we kissed, a bit awkwardly in that
position. But then her head went back and she began to moan softly.
I took one hand from her breast and slid it down over her smooth flesh
until I felt the soft roughness of her pubic hair, and then the dampness at the
top of her vaginal opening. My fingers searched for her clitoris and found it.
She took in her breath with a sharp hiss, her body giving a little jerk against
me.
I stroked the little button gently as I continued to slide my cock in
and out of her from behind. Pat moaned louder, and I was panting slightly,
although we were not fucking very hard. Her cunt was tight and warm around my
prick. I caressed her breast, moving my fingers over the stiff nipple. I kissed
the back of her neck, and she turned her head so I could nibble at her ear and
stroke the inside of it with my tongue. I knew she liked that.
"Oooohh," she crooned. "Oh Mel...do it...."
"I'm doing it," I said. I began to move harder, clutching her quivering
breast with one hand and stimulating her clitoral area with the other. She
groaned and writhed, and as my thrusts got stronger, she began to push back
against me, her ass twisting deliciously into my belly.
I could feel her breast heaving under my hand with her hard breathing.
My breath was coming rapdily too, but though I was tingling all over with the
beautiful sensations, I was in no hurry to finish. The events of the afternoon
had blunted some of the urgency I might otherwise have felt. I had a quick
mental flash of Jessica's incredible body and voracious mouth, and of Mrs.
Harris' elegant nakedness, stretched and spread-eagled on her bed; but I pushed
them out of my mind guiltily. The hell with that. I just wanted to go on
screwing the lovely girl whose twisting, passionate body I was holding in my
arms.
Pat turned her head again, her open, panting mouth searching for mine.
We kissed, straining our necks to glue our lips together. But after a moment she
pulled away with a dissatisfied whimper.
"Mel..." she moaned breathlessly. "I want to see you."
I let her go, and I felt my cock being disengaged from her warm opening
as her flesh broke contact with mine. She turned around to face me and came
quickly back into my arms, pressing herself hard against me from shoulders to
knees.I found her mouth with mine, and our eager tongues met, stroking together,
then fighting a brief erotic duel which mine won as it plunged deeply into her
gasping mouth.
I rolled her over onto her back, lying on top of her. She spread her
legs, and in a moment I was inside her again. Our mouths separated, gulping air.
I looked down at her. Her face was indistinct in the darkness, but I could see
her eyes shining.
"Hi," she whispered.
"Hi, yourself." I pushed all the way into her, further than I had been
able to do from the rear, burying myself to the hilt in her moist, welcoming
cunt. She gave a wordless cry and clutched at me. I felt her legs curl
themselves around mine, and we began to move together.
We were fucking more intensely now, losing ourselves in sensation and
need, working purposefully toward the climactic reward that now beckoned
irresistibly to both of us. I lunged hard at her, and she arched up to meet my
thrusts with writhing hips. Her nails dug into my back, and the pointing nipples
that grazed my chest seemed almost as sharp. My panting became loud and hoarse,
mingling with the rhythmic cries that came from her mouth.
I knew the signs of her climax. Her body started to tremble, and then to
jerk, slightly and erratically at first, and then in hard, continuous,
uncontrollable spasms. Her legs rose and thrashed in the air on either side of
me, while her voice slid higher and higher up the scale until she gave a shrill,
piercing shriek, bucking like a wild horse as she came.
Her orgasmic gyrations set me off too, and I exploded inside her,
drenching her cunt with my sperm while she was still spinning in the whirlwind
of her pleasure.
Later, lying beside me again, Pat murmured drowsily, "Three women in one
day. How does it feel, stud?"
"It's a living," I said.
She gave me a Bronx cheer. Then she said, "Would you have liked it
better if I had been tied down, like your rich taxi lady?"
"I liked it fine just the way it was," I said.
"Me too," Patricia said, and went to sleep.