Taxicab Confessions [Salome]
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: BigBuckBob on 01-10-2009, 05:47:29</h2>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Taxicab Confessions [Salome]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>BigBuckBob</strong> on <strong>01-10-2009, 05:47:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The Cabbie loved and hated this route. IT circled the park and there were always at least a dozen fares. However, there was also the downside. There was never less then a dozen fares, the majority of whom could care less about the high volume of traffic and would curse the whole way to the next stop.<br><br>However, right as dusk crept over the park things began to die down. Not many cared to stay in the park this late, lest they be stuck in it once night overwhelmed them. His fare, however, seemed to be coming from the museum. She stood patiently at the curb, dead center of the building, clutching something very tightly.<br><br>"Do you need a ride miss?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Taxicab Confessions [Salome]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Salomé</strong> on <strong>02-10-2009, 01:11:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Epiphanies always came to her at the most inconvenient of times—always two steps behind. And it was only <em>now</em>, as she stood there in the street, clutching the stash of papers to her chest and shivering with cold (and perhaps fright), that she realized how stupid she’d been. Stealing some papers, however important, was not going to change anything, particularly not in this age of Xerox and internet backup files. <br><br>Worse, she was chilled to the bone, having dressed impulsively and inappropriately, wearing nothing on top of her thin shirt. She needed to get home, and wallow in a hot bath and hatred and self-pity and thank the gods that she hadn’t been caught on such a fool errand.<br><br>Earlier she’d walked—no, stalked—to the museum, red hot with righteous anger, not noticing the considerable distance. Now she tried to fight the temptation to simply take a taxi. Taxis were luxuries she could not afford, ranking way up there with functioning heaters and fresh fruit. <br><br>But when the cabbie approached her first and said, "Do you need a ride miss?" she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Of course she needed a ride. <br><br>It was like Satan with the voice of an angel—welcome words, but her finances for this month would be fucked twice over if she blew €10 on a mere taxi. So she said, her regret palpable, “No, thank you! I’m just… I was just about to walk home, thank you.” But she made no movement, and instead, just stared at taxi and the driver, wondering what would happen if she simply decided to get on, and then run off without paying. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Taxicab Confessions [Salome]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>BigBuckBob</strong> on <strong>03-10-2009, 08:32:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He lowered the rear windows and turned up the heater letting a nice warm breeze drift out into the night air. He gave her a soft smile. "If you don't need a ride, why didn't you start moving?"<br><br>He held up a finger to try and prevent her from getting upset or annoyed enough to walk away. "Tell you what. If you head the right direction, I'll discount any miles I was planning on driving anyway."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Taxicab Confessions [Salome]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Salomé</strong> on <strong>03-10-2009, 11:31:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A discount was not enough. She had exactly €1.40 in her pocket, not even enough for a bus ticket. Even so, his pause was invitation enough for her. And that heat wafting out through the windows--<em>this cabbie sure knew how to attract customers</em>, she thought bitterly. <br><br>"What would be the right direction?" she said cautiously. But her hand was on the door, and the warm breath of the taxi's heaters on her face. No way was she backing off now, not at this point. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Taxicab Confessions [Salome]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>BigBuckBob</strong> on <strong>04-10-2009, 03:02:55</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He gave her a smile. "Well, officially, I need to head east. However, any tourist attraction you can think of, I can probably find a fare that will make up for the free ride."<br><br>He paused again. "There is a catch tho. If you are the last ride of the night, then you owe me full payment. Plus a generous tip for being such a swell fellow. Deal?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Taxicab Confessions [Salome]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Salomé</strong> on <strong>04-10-2009, 10:22:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"East is great. But how will I know if I'm the last ride of the night? I might be long gone by the time you get your next passenger," she said, settling comfortably back on the leather seats and enjoying the sensation of her fingers thawing. <br><br>She wondered what would happen if she refused to get off the taxi. She glanced at the driver, wondering if he could, or would, be the sort to resort to physical violence.<br><br>Theoretically, if she refused to get off the taxi, even as her fare increased, she wouldn't actually have to pay anything. Until she finally <em>did</em> decide to get off. It was a ridiculous notion--of course she'd have to get off someday--but the thought amused her, and she stifled a giggle. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Taxicab Confessions [Salome]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>BigBuckBob</strong> on <strong>04-10-2009, 10:30:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				When she finally decided to step into the cab, he would raise up the windows and lower the heat a tad. It was a good draw on a cold night, but not exactly something to drive around town with. He ignored her for the most part until the cab started moving.<br><br>"Well, now that you are in the cab, you are on tape and responsible for your fare. No matter where I might take you. All you asked for was east. Unless you might have someplace in mind? And you will be the last ride, unless you get out to let someone else in."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Taxicab Confessions [Salome]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Salomé</strong> on <strong>04-10-2009, 10:41:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				For a split second her imagination ran away with her and she was frightened, wondering whether taping customers was the norm among cabbies. <br><br>But then she relaxed. She had to stop being so cynical and suspicious. This guy was simply doing her a favor. If anything, <em>she</em> would be the one to cheat him--not, of course, that any of this was set in stone. It was far more likely that she would be able to find him another customer. After all, it was a cold night. <br><br>"You can take me to the Station," she said easily. "I can walk home from there." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Taxicab Confessions [Salome]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>BigBuckBob</strong> on <strong>05-10-2009, 02:58:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The cab made a turn and began heading toward the station. Now that he knew where he was going, he knew the best route to get there. Rather then simply taking the main roads.<br><br>"The Station? Interesting plan. As it happens, that was where I planned on heading next. However, I am doing you a favor, so I am going to expect some token of gratitude as payment."<br><br>His eyes glanced up into the rearview mirror, and a grin would spread across his face. He would give the statement and his mannerisms a minute to sink in on her. <br><br>"So how about you tell me about your trip to the museum."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Taxicab Confessions [Salome]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Salomé</strong> on <strong>06-10-2009, 14:36:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She ignored his question. "Um, where are you going? This isn't the way to the Station, is it?" as she said the words, she realized how stupid she sounded, trying to tell a <em>taxi driver</em> how to to find his way around. <br><br>But there was something singularly inscrutable in his smile and in the way he enunciated certain words. She couldn't quite put her finger on it; after all, he was just being friendly--more than friendly, in fact. Anyway, there was nothing he could do, really, not while driving the taxi through streets still relatively crowded with homeward bound commuters. There was no sense in letting her foolish imagination run away with her. <br><br>All the same, she was conscious of her quickening pulse and tried to quiet her short, shallow breathing. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Taxicab Confessions [Salome]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>BigBuckBob</strong> on <strong>08-10-2009, 02:45:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"You see. I'm allowed to ask questions, because I'm doing you a favor. And, while I can't stop you from asking questions, I can ignore them with no drawback. You on the other hand, are stuck in my cab. And this road, makes it possible for me to drive for miles without slowing down enough for you to jump out."<br><br>He gives her a wink via the rearview mirror. "But, don't think I'm some sort of creep. I just love information. I love a good story. You look like you have one. So, one more time. How was your trip to the museum?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Taxicab Confessions [Salome]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Salomé</strong> on <strong>14-10-2009, 02:07:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Why the hell is he so interested in my trip to the museum?</em>--this was her first thought. But then again, here was an open invitation to complain. Who was she to reject such an offer? <br><br>She found the taxi driver's wink to be slightly off-putting, but she chalked it down to his eccentricity--eccentricity, which she supposed, she should be grateful towards. After all, most taxi drivers wouldn't even have considered taking on a passenger with no money in her pocket. It was too difficult, anyhow, to keep questioning her luck. Sure, she could have been suspicious, and analyzed his every statement and gesture. But she was tired and she wanted to believe that nothing was wrong.<br><br>So she did. Besides, she loved telling a good story. <br><br>"Have you ever been inside that museum, by the way? It's rather famous. I used to work there. Fourteen months, in fact, until I quit last week. Ridiculous thing is, for all the time I spent in there, I never went past the second floor," <br><br>She paused, waiting for him to ask the obligatory question.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Taxicab Confessions [Salome]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>BigBuckBob</strong> on <strong>16-10-2009, 04:03:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"As many people as I end up picking up in front of that place, I haven't made it past the lobby. And only that because some rich lady was putting in double tip so that I could hold up her umbrella from the door to the car."<br><br>He slowed the car a bit, no longer speeding but still going at a decent pace. He waved a hand lightly when he was done with his statement.<br><br>"Anything interesting on that second floor?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Taxicab Confessions [Salome]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Salomé</strong> on <strong>17-10-2009, 02:56:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She couldn't resist a snort as she settled back more comfortably on the cushy seats. "Hell no. Unless you think plasticky life-sized dioramas of what <em>some</em> people think life was like 5000 years ago is interesting. And imagine if you had to look at the same ugly, ill-made renditions of monkey men from a million years ago every single day. For hours. It's enough to make you sick." She pantomimed being sick, then continued.<br><br>"And then the tours. I was responsible for tours on the entire second floor. People ask the same fucking questions. All the time. And then the dumb-as-bricks kids from the public schools. Cracking gay jokes about the homo erectus exhibit. I guess that's why I started fucking the director. Boredom, disgust, sickness." <br><br>She stopped abruptly, wondering what had possessed her, to even consider confessing all this to a total stranger. Yet simultaneously she was fully aware that she opened up easily; she was emotionally desperate and would confide in anyone who demonstrated even an inkling of interest in her situation. But like the alcoholic who always had an excuse for each drink, she justified her behavior with gratitude. She was grateful for the cabbie's generosity, and so she was... <em>repaying</em> him with her confidence. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Taxicab Confessions [Salome]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>BigBuckBob</strong> on <strong>17-10-2009, 08:27:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He couldn't help but crack up during her pause. It was definitely rude, and might make for an awkward game of 'I promise I won't laugh again' but he just couldn't help it.<br><br>"I know what you mean. Every gay joke I hear, just sends me flying into my boss' arms." He chuckles again before his eyes quickly flash into the mirror. "Wait... was your boss a woman? Or did I miss a beat in there somewhere? Woman boss, I want a vivid and detailed description. Male, you might want to explain how it started a little better then. 'Work sucked, so I sucked work'"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Taxicab Confessions [Salome]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Salomé</strong> on <strong>20-10-2009, 11:44:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				At his laughter, her eyes flashed in momentary anger, but she immediately settled back with a self-deprecatory chuckle. <br><br>"Of course if you take it out of context like that... but as ludicrous as it sounds, it's pretty much the truth... I mean it's not like I lo--<em>liked</em> him."<br><br>She paused, shrugging unaffectedly.<br><br>"A self-serving, lying little cunt who would probably sell his own daughter into the sex trade for a promotion, really. It's only that my life was pretty much at a standstill. Dead-end job. Poor. Constant rejection. All sorts of rejection. No friends, no family. But you know, at least I wasn't being an upwardly mobile prostitute. I didn't fuck him with any expectations. Nope."<br><br>She looked for a second at the taxi driver, who, she thought appreciatively, was an extraordinarily good listener. Or maybe she was just desperate. In either case, all her previous mental safeguards and suspicions had evaporated. She was getting into her story. <br><br>"Even at the beginning I knew not to expect any favors from him. I did it 'cause I wanted to. He was the whore, not me." <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Taxicab Confessions [Salome]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>BigBuckBob</strong> on <strong>31-10-2009, 03:29:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He listened carefully, nodding and mostly keeping his eyes on the road. The streets began getting darker, the houses more dilapidated, but in the distance traffic could be heard and the lights shone like a beacon. They were getting closer, but this was hardly a shortcut, if she even cared anymore.<br><br>"So you started sleeping with a self serving, lying, jerk, because you wanted to? Sounds like a classy move to me. Is that why&nbsp; you said 'used to' work at the museum? Someone catch you in the act and get you fired?"
			</dd>
		</dl>
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