Pay the Fare

It was another saturday night or, more accurately, sunday morning but I never considered saturday to be over until I'd been to bed.

As usual, I was queued up outside the local nightclub, slowly working my way to the front of the rank and, as usual, I was reading a book in between intermittently moving up one car's length at a time. I favoured light reading, especially Terry Pratchett books because you could pick them up and put them down without losing the plot and having to read the last paragraph over and over again. So I wasn't really taking much notice of what was going on around me which, on one or two occasions, had led to unfortunate interactions with undesirables trying to get into my cab but nothing that I couldn't handle. Strange thing, but, even though I knew virtually all the other cab drivers at least in a nodding sort of way, they would rarely come to your aid in such a situation, preferring to just laugh at your predicament and watch you extricate yourself from trouble but, sadly, that seems to be the way of the world these days although, despite that, I personally, have always been one of the first to go to a fellow driver's aid. Anyway, I digress.

On this particular saturday night, I'd worked my way to the front of the rank, put my book away and was watching the front door of the club to see who would be coming out next.

Three people emerged together, two guys and a girl, all apparently in their early twenties, and I gave them a quick once over as they approached my car. The girl was short and painfully thin, wearing a white top and tight, black lycra miniskirt that reached half way down her thighs to reveal skeletal looking, milk white legs with what seemed like disproportionately large, knobbly knees and, to top it off, on her feet, she was wearing black, ankle strap shoes with a two inch platform sole and four inch block heel that just seemed to make her scrawny legs look even thinner. All in all, not a good look.

The first guy was tall and thin, probably a little over my six feet but much weedier. He had short, dark hair and was wearing grey trousers and a blue shirt and very, very shiny shoes whilst the other guy couldn't have been more different, being much shorter, maybe five eight or nine and much bigger built. He had a dirty blond crew cut and was wearing his favourite football shirt and blue jeans with the obligatory shiny shoes. ( I've never understood a dress code that allows you to wear whatever you want as long as you've got shiny shoes ).

Now I'm not at all sure if this only applies to me or to all other guys ( how could I know ) but, whenever I encounter anyone new, I always assess them in the first few seconds on two very different criteria.

With women, of a certain age, it's whether I find them attractive or not and, with men of a certain age, it's whether I think I can handle them if things get unpleasant. Don't get me wrong, I don't consider myself some sort of macho man and I'd much rather avoid confrontation but I won't back down when challenged. Personally, I think that's a prerequisite if you're going to pick up strangers off the street but I've known plenty of guys sitting behind the wheel of a cab that, to me, are like lambs to the slaughter, a disaster waiting to happen but they tend to only work days and are home by six and still they have more than their share of trouble.

Digressing again but my point is that, to my eye, the girl was plain at best, the tall guy was totally inoffensive and, although the short one obviously thought of himself as a hard man, he definitely wasn't so I let them in.

They only wanted to go about five miles and, within yards, I knew that my assessments were correct. The tall lad sat in the front next to me whilst the other two sat in the back and it immediately became apparent that they were married and that he was in a stinking mood.

The girl tried to start up a conversation but her husband snarled at her to shut up and I took an instant dislike to him. I don't think that they'd had any specific argument, I think he was just a nasty drunk and, by the way that the other two cowered every time that he snarled, I was sure that they were well used to his outbursts. Not my problem, if they wanted to put up with a nasty bully, that was their problem.

It became my problem when the lad in the front seat asked me to stop about half a mile from our destination because he lived in a different direction so I pulled to the side of the road. The lad unfastened his seat belt but, before he could get out, the bully in the back seat snarled "Give me some money you prick".

The girl protested "Mark's not a prick, he's a mate"

The yob just growled "He's a prick, now give me some money you prick".

I could see that the tall lad was actually shaking as he croaked out "I'm sorry, I told you, I haven't got any money left, I told you I'll pay you tomorrow".

The yob just growled "You better had, prick".

I'd had enough so, without raising my voice, I calmly said "I don't care who pays me but someone had better pay me right now, or else". There was silence for what seemed like a long time before the girl took out her purse and paid me what I estimated the final fare would be plus a good tip and, as soon as I'd taken the money, the tall guy leapt out of the car and ran away across the road as if the hounds of hell were after him.

The yob started to say something but I cut him off, saying "Shut it, you've got two choices, either you shut up and I take you home or you get out now, your choice". He didn't say another word so I continued on to the address I'd been given.

I pulled up in quite a nice little cul-de-sac next to a tall, overgrown hedge ( why does his type always have an overgrown hedge and knee high grass? ).

The yob jumped out of the car without a word and disappeared from sight behind the hedge which quite surprised me because I expected at least one foul mouthed complaint before he went.

To my annoyance, the girl hadn't moved so I turned around to face her and was taken aback to see tears silently streaming down her face. I've always been a mug where a crying woman is concerned so I bit back my immediate reaction to tell her to fuck off and waited for her to speak and, after what seemed like an eternity, she finally sobbed "I hate him, I really hate him".

I replied "So, why do you stay with him? Have you got children?"

She mumbled "No".

I asked again "Why don't you leave him? Have you got somewhere to go to?"

She mumbled "My mum and dad".

I asked "Where do they live?"

She told me an address that was less than a mile away so I asked "Why don't you go there?"

She replied "I can't".

It was like pulling teeth but, eventually she told me that her parents had never liked Gary and were not happy about her marrying him so I asked if that meant that they wouldn't let her return home and she replied that they'd often asked her to return home.

She finally admitted that the reason she stayed was that she was embarrassed to admit to her parents and friends that she'd made a mistake and that her marriage wasn't the dream life that she pretended it to be so I told her that her family and friends already knew that and, if they didn't support her, they weren't friends at all.

I asked if he hit her and she said "No" so I replied that it was only a matter of time.

A part of me was telling me that I was wasting my breath and that I should just say goodnight and drive off but another part was telling me that I had a daughter of my own and I'd hate for her to end up in this sort of situation although I told myself that would never happen.

I suggested that I could take her to her parents but she insisted that it was too late but she'd go to see them in the morning and then she said "You're nice, is it ok if I get into the front next to you?" and I thought what she really needed to do was to get out of the car and let. me get back to work but, instead, I just said ok.

I expected her to get out of the car but maybe she thought that if she did, I'd drive off because I was totally shocked when a big, clumpy black shoe appeared above the handbrake. It's twin quickly joined it and then her skinny white legs followed. She shuffled forward and her knobbly knees appeared between the front seats and then her skinny thighs.

I've no idea if it was due to her wriggling forward but, as more of her body appeared between the seats, I found that her tight black skirt had been pushed up over hips and was now rucked up around her waist like a belt but that didn't explain why she wasn't wearing any knickers.

My jaw fell open as her totally bald cunt came into view, gaping red and wet, and, just like that, she wasn't unattractive anymore.

She performed a strange sort of twist in mid air, deftly avoiding the gear lever and landed neatly in the passenger seat beside me. She turned to face me with a huge grin on her face, no doubt amused by the startled look on my face and, as I stared at her naked cunt, I marvelled at how quickly a relatively unattractive woman could suddenly become beautiful.

She actually laughed out loud and said "Do you want to fuck me?" and, at that moment, there was nothing in the world that I wanted to do more.

We both got out of our respective doors and she opened the back door behind her and sprawled out on the back seat with her bum perched on the edge and her feet resting on the ground and, as I hurried around to her side of the car, I frantically tore open my jeans and hauled out my rock hard prick. Her legs were spread wide and I practically dove on top of her, burying my prick deep inside her with one almighty thrust as we both cried out.

She gasped and moaned with every thrust as I hammered into her totally unconcerned whether anyone might see my naked arse rising and falling in the moonlight. I felt the girl stiffen and arch her back to meet me as she cried out "I'm cumming, I'm cumming" and that's all it took to trigger my own orgasm. I scrabbled for purchase on the slippery road surface as I jerked erratically inside her, slamming as hard into her as I could and I froze deep inside her as I felt my spunk surging from my balls and flooding her insides.

I lay half on top of her with my lower half outside the car as I gasped for breath and she lay there laughing for the sheer joy of it but, no sooner had I rose to my feet than she jumped out of the car and, with her skirt still up around her waist, she spread her arms to the world and shouted out "There you are, you nosy bastards, the little slut is fucking in the street".

I flew into a. panic and ran around to my side of the car whilst desperately pulling up my pants and trying to tuck away my spent prick as she cried out again "Come on, come on, I'm fucking in the street".

I dove into the driver's seat and threw the car into reverse, backing away as quick as I could before any of the neighbours could come out to investigate. I'm not entirely sure what offenses I could have been charged with, possibly gross indecency, but I knew that the council's hackney committee would have plenty to say if I was identified so I got out of there as quickly as I could and, as I turned around at the end of the street, my headlights picked up and shone off her skinny, white bum still. on display as she stood there with her arms spread like an opera singer.

I didn't bother going back into town and headed home instead and, all the way there, I kept telling myself that that's what you get for trying to be a nice guy.