Many years ago… never mind exactly how many (save to say that I was a little over twenty-one years of age at the time), I was an undergraduate driving a night-shift taxicab in a large city. I enjoyed taxi driving as a job because, by and large, I was my own boss. One sweltering summer I was writing a major research paper and teaching a class at the local community college… and driving the taxicab when not busy with that. The best nights for taxi driving are always the holidays. New Year’s Eve is the mother of all party nights, with the Fourth of July not far behind. It was the night of the Fourth of July… or, more likely, the wee hours on the morning of the fifth… that I picked up a fare at a local nightclub; it was five men obviously in town for a convention and stayed over to party without their wives. One of them danced about the idea for a few minutes (but I knew what was coming, of course), then asked if I knew where they could get laid.
Nothing was particularly unusual about that request, any night-bird cabbie should have known exactly where to take them; however, I always avoided pimping for sexually oriented businesses, mainly because the area around them is usually quite dangerous.
But I wasn’t busy enough to turn down customers that night, thus, I advised my clients that their only business with me was taxi service and that I had no interest in anything that happened after their ride (for the same reason I mentioned that I was “twenty-one years of age at the time” in my first sentence) and took them to such a business. They all got out and went into the establishment, and there you have my story… thank you very much for reading it.
Oh, wait! I just remembered… they didn’t all get out. One of them decided that he was too tired and asked me if I would take him back to the hotel. Well, that was my business that night.
I’m going to go way out on a limb and bet that my reader has guessed where this is headed, and, whether you believe it or not, it is a true story. It was summer in Texas and hot. Taxi drivers pay for their own gasoline, so I would run with the air conditioner off and the windows down to save money when I didn’t have passengers. I’d always turn it on for my fares… so long as they agreed not to smoke. Taxi drivers have no dress code, so I was dressed for a warm evening in light-weight shorts and a T-shirt.
My passenger was a well-dressed man somewhat older than I. He was wearing a sport coat with his tie in the lapel pocket. My vehicle was a small Dodge product in which five adults and a driver could ride, but it was tight. During the ride out, my current passenger sat next to me with his leg pressed against mine. I was young and had never been the subject of a man’s serious advances, but I wasn’t naive. I was good-looking and athletic (I hope I still am) and had returned from a tour in Vietnam fairly recently, so I knew where he was heading when he would touch my leg making a conversational point.
The ride was uneventful… of course it was, I was driving in freeway traffic! When we pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, I usually drive up to the door, but this time I pulled into a parking space and put the cab in park. Right on cue, he reached over and deliberately put his hand on my right leg gently squeezing the quad. I gasped! This was a first for me; my heart was pounding. I placed my hand on his.
Obviously, what happened was consensual; although I was saying “NO! NO! Stop!” and ineffectually pushing his hands away, I’m sure he could see that I was stimulated. I was up against the driver’s door with my knees toward him when he found the hem of my shorts and slipped his hand inside, all the way up the leg. I grabbed his hand through the cloth.
I remember him asking me, “Do you always squirm so nicely?” and I thought that was hot because that’s exactly what was happening. Despite my “resistance”, he soon had my shorts unfastened and pulled halfway down my thighs… all I accomplished was to cause him to fondle me with both hands.
I don’t really recall walking with him up to his room; I remember being very nervous.
As soon as I stepped into the room, he closed the door, reached for my belt, opened it, and quickly dropped my shorts around my ankles. I sat down while he removed my tennis shoes and pulled off my T-shirt. I believe that he was a law enforcement officer because he locked a gun and a badge in the drawer… and he had a pair of handcuffs. I recall mentioning that he could handcuff me (or asking if he were planning to do so, I believe). He said that he didn’t think it was necessary. I suppose he based this on the fact that he had just spent the last half hour grouping my bodily orifices in the parking lot and I was now naked in his bed.
He stripped quickly and crawled into bed, pushing a knee between mine, then spreading my thighs with his knees while pushing my hands out to the side and kissing me… and I freaked out! All of a sudden, a man was actually on top of me getting set to…
I turned sideways and slid out of bed. Over his protests, I dressed quickly, left the room, and returned to my taxicab.
I’m not sure what happened that night. I was quite young and nervous. It has never happened since. It would be OK with me if it did, but I’m not pushing it. I’m picky, and when (or, better, “if”) it does, it will be on my terms.
