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The Girl In The Taxi
A shy, young man has an erotic encounter with a strange girl. Is it real or just a dream?
Richard Koss, other titles
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL ADDRESS
|AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (47)
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The Girl In The Taxi
New York City. A great town all right, but not for a shy, single guy like me, who once thought about becoming a priest.
Itís really coming down in buckets. No umbrella, but at least Iíve got my raincoat on. Pretty long walk to my hotel. I hope I can catch a taxi.
Here comes one now, but I think he has a passenger. Iíll wave anyway. Hey, heís stopping. Great! Iíll just jump in the back seat withÖ.. Wow! She is really gorgeous.
"Hotel Belmont, driver."
Black hair, dark eyes staring at me. Oh shit! Her raincoatís open and she has NOTHING on underneath. I heard anything can happen in Manhattan, but this is unreal. Look at those tits! Oh my God, I canít believe this. I wonder if sheís a hooker. Thatís got to be it. Why is she touching my fingers? Looking for a ring to make sure Iím not married? Why would a hooker care if I were married?
Christ, weíre at the hotel already. "Here driver, keep the change." Whereíd she go? She mustíve got out on the other side. There she is, standing in the rain, smiling. I can read her lips. "Want some company?" I donít believe this!
Sheís all over me in this elevator. God, her lips are so wet and warm. I can feel myself growing like Pinocchio. Didnít even notice the other couple in here with us. Hereís my floor already. I almost have to pry her loose as we practically run toward my room. Sheís peeling off my wet raincoat and Iím fumbling for my key.
Frantic, thatís the word. She nearly tears off my damp shirt as I unbuckle my belt and let my pants drop to the floor. Now she glides out of the wet raincoat with her mouth and tongue still glued to mine and we slide onto the double bed.
I donít even remember taking off my shoes and socks but now weíre totally naked, our bodies, moist and clammy from the rain. We touch and grope with our hands and our mouths rotate from each otherís to as many body parts as we can reach, eyes half closed with delight. She moans, sighing and catching her breath as I begin to penetrate her.
Now we cling to each other, our skin sticking together, our bodies united as though we could never be separated again. No awkwardness, no friction, just an undulating, human mass of pleasure.
I feel the ultimate moment building. I resist it because I donít want this to end. She knows this and clings to me even more tightly as Iím about to explode like a volcano inside of her.
The room was darker than dark. Something different about the darkness of a strange hotel room just before dawn.
Jack sat straight up in the big double bed. His heart was beating fast and he was sweating. He felt the other side of the bed. There was no one there. Shit! What an erotic dream. Heíd had them before, when he was younger, but never as realistic as this one - never!
Jack felt himself. His thighs and pubic area were soaking wet and there was a small puddle of semen on the sheet underneath him. This really was a wet dream. The other dreams were different. They were teasers. Every time he was about to ejaculate, he would wake up. But not this time.
He leaned over, turned the nightstand light on, and glanced around the room. There was no sign that anyone had been here with him. Still trying to convince himself that this was only a dream, he lay there for a while, thinking about her - the girl in the taxi.
Moments later he rejoined reality in the bathroom but he continued to think about the dream as he showered, shaved and got dressed. It was just as well that he was up this early. He had to catch a 7:45 flight back to Chicago and with the airport security in effect, it would take some time to get processed.
After packing his luggage, he looked around the room once more to make sure he had everything. Jack didnít remember hanging up his raincoat, but it was there in the closet. He draped it over his arm and looked down at the residue of water on the floor.
Then he saw it - the plastic laminated card lying in the corner of the closet floor. His curious heart jumped as he picked up the card. It was an employee ID card with the picture of a pretty dark-haired girl. Jack stared at her picture. It was the girl in the taxi! No doubt about it. Her name was Eve Mitchell and she was a flight attendant with United Airlines. It wasnít a dream. She was real. Everything was real!
The first thing he did was check his wallet. All his cash and credit cards were still there. He put the ID card in his suit coat pocket and started down the hall toward the elevator with his luggage and raincoat.
A little later he was sitting in the hotel restaurant gulping his coffee. It was going to be a quick cup of coffee because the hotel desk had already called for a taxi. He thought about her. It was too early to call anyone and the ID card didnít have her address, anyway. Heíd have to reach her through United when he got back to Chicago.
The taxi was there in plenty of time and it was 6:30 when he got to the airport. After checking his luggage and going through the pre-boarding inspection and clearance routine, he checked in at his departure gate and found a seat in the waiting area.
He thought about Eve Mitchell and their bizarre encounter. They never spoke two words. They just got right down to it. He couldnít think of one person at the home office who would ever believe this story. It would sound like something out of Hustler magazine or a porno flick. Yet, she didnít really look like a slut or act like some kind of nympho. Jack remembered her looking at his ring finger in the taxi, like she wouldnít have come on to him if he were married. Maybe he was being naÔve, but he felt like she really cared for him in a special way. He smiled to himself. Right! Sheís just a nice working girl who likes to go around with nothing on but a raincoat.
His thoughts were interrupted by the announcement to begin boarding.
After finding his seat and buckling up, he put his head back and closed his eyes. The flight attendants went through their safety instruction routine and shortly afterward, the Captainís voice echoed, "thank you for flying United," as the plane began taxiing down the runway. Wouldnít it have been wild, he thought, if Eve were working this flight?
When Jack opened his eyes again, they were at 30,000 feet and the attendants were coming by with the beverages. " Nothing to drink, thank you," he said, as the girl picked up a folded newspaper on the floor and stuck it in the magazine pouch in front of him. Her hair was black and for an instant, she looked like Eve. But as she began talking to the other passengers, he could see there was actually little resemblance.
Jack reached inside his suit coat pocket and pulled out the ID card of Eve Mitchell. He stared at her picture for a while then put it back in his pocket and tried to doze off again.
When he couldnít fall asleep, he decided to read something, so he reached for the newspaper in the pouch. It was part of yesterdayís paper, September 11, 2002. It was just the memorial section, commemorating the first anniversary of the World Trade Center and Pentagon tragedies. The section was thick with all the names of the victims from the World Trade Center towers, the Pentagon building, policemen, firemen, and finally, the passengers and crewmembers of the planes. For a minute, Jack stared at the pages filled with the thousands of names. Then, a strange impulse came over him and he began to turn the pages faster and faster.
Anxiously, he skipped through the pages until he came to the last section containing the passengers and crewmembers of the planes. He felt his pulse quicken and his heart pumping as he scanned the alphabetical list.
King, Howard Lawrence, Samuel Mackey, Paul Miner, Jane Mitchell, Eve Miller, Charles Montalvo, Eduardo
He rubbed his eyes, then he looked at the names on the list again. It was no illusion. Her name was there - MITCHELL, EVE.
His mouth went dry and his hands began to shake, but he was determined to remain calm and rational. Instinctively, Jack reached for the ID card inside his suit coat pocket.
It was gone.
|READER'S REVIEWS (4)
DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"Its a gud story with a lot of material but lacks the writng style which shud be in a gud writer" -- Asadullah, Karachi, Pakistan, Sindh.
"Asadullah, Explain what you mean by GUD writing style?" -- Richard, OH.
"I have to disagree with Asadullah. it's an excellent peice.. good work" -- CB.
"A horny ghost? That's a little different." -- Sandra.
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© 2001 Richard Koss
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