Driving Me Crazy
When I noticed that the Kink of the Week was Sex Workers, I felt a particularly strong call to action. After a prolonged period of time of
So without further ado, here’s a little story for you about a… secret office romance of sorts.
I got myself ready this morning without much fuss. A simple black dress. Charcoal thigh high stockings overtop of black tights. Minimal makeup, but as always, my signature sharp black feline eyeliner painted on with deliberate care. My long auburn hair is bone straight even when I air dry it, so it doesn’t take much more than a little finger zhuzh to be good enough.
It’s effing cold, but I still have to look cute.
My shoulders are scrunched all the way to my ears as I walk down the frost-bitten sidewalks to my designated meeting spot outside the train station. The cold winter morning air bites into my eyes, drawing the sting of icy tears. I do my best to hold them back to keep my lids from freezing together or my makeup from eyeliner from being compromised to terribly. But I should be fine – I don’t put
It’s my first time meeting him because it’s my first Saturday on the job.
I spot the big black SUV parked outside the train station. The windows are tinted nearly completely black. A fluffy white flume is trailing through the frigid air from the exhaust pipe, but I’m still can’t be sure that anyone is inside as I approach the passenger side door.
I know it has to be the right
He’s wearing his big puffy parka, navy blue with light brown fur around the hood. His nearly black eyes are kind as they flash their acknowledgment of my arrival, and his mere presence starts to warm me as soon as I sit down in the seat next to him. His skin is permanently bronzed by great genetics, his close-cut hair dark as soot.
“Hi.” Even that one syllable is too much for me. I’m overcome by my surprise. The guy who had picked me up on Thursday was in his 50s, bald and bespectacled. Well-mannered and good-natured, sure, but like… nothing like this.
This might be the most handsome man I’ve ever shared stale heated air with.
“You must be Maddie.”
“Yep, that’s me.”
“Great, I have a something for you already,” his eyes scan the hand-written list in the notebook in his hands as he speaks. “One hour. Downtown.”
“Great.” My saliva is thick in my throat. He smells even nicer than he looks.
He stows the notebook into the middle console and really looks at me for the first time. His smile is wide and warm.
“You know, I think it’s gonna be a good day.”
My stomach flips, and I don’t think it was just from the vehicle shifting into gear.
We fly through the streets like there isn’t a bunch of snow and ice on the ground. Jean-Michel asks me some quick get-to-know-you questions.
“So you just started?”
“My first week. This will be my third call so far.”
“Nice!” he says with genuine mirth. “It’s going good?”
“So far so good.
We don’t really have time to get much further than that before we arrive at our destination.
“This is it?” I ask as we pull up to the front doors of a hotel that is nicer than anyone I’ve ever stayed.
“That’s it,” he says as he types something into his phone. My phone pings immediately after in my palm. “I’ve sent you the details. You can confirm to me because I’m also the booker on Saturdays.”
“Awesome,” I say, gathering up my things and wrapping my scarf a little tighter around my neck. “I’ll see you in a bit then.”
“Have fun.” He sings the words out to me. It encourages me to start to turn on my professional charm.
“Always,” I sing flirtatiously back to him. I catch him smile at me as I close the shiny black car door behind me.
It’s Saturday again.
It’s been two weeks since I first met Jean-Michel — I was in the red zone last week, so I wasn’t on the schedule — and I’m not sure what to make of all this…
This is worth saying because I’m never that girl. At least I never have been before now. I’ve never been struck down by my attraction to someone right from the first glance. But Jean-Michel has thrown me. Our time together between my calls was fleeting, but the minutes we did share were more enjoyable than they had to be. It’s one of those situations that if I was the type to exaggerate a little, I’d say I haven’t stopped thinking about him since.
Since then, I’ve seen 12 clients and even let one of my roommates’ friends eat me out because I was feeling generous last night, but the only thing that’s been occupying my fantasies and successfully get me off is lurid daydreams of this franco-
I know that it is strictly verboten for the drivers to fraternize with the girls, by law of the bosslady. But I’m not always so good at following the rules.
I take even more care than usual in selecting my outfit — a black sweater dress with not one but two functional zippers that run up the front for versatile, easy access over top of my striking turquoise lingerie set.
I check my phone for the time and the screen lights up in my hand with a message from Jean-Michel.
“Can you be ready in 20?”
Yes, sir, I can.
I leave my roommate’s friend alone in my bed and sneak out into the day with a word.
Throughout the day, it has become more and more apparent that Jean-Michel is just as intrigued by me as I am by him.
We drop off another girl at her call and are left alone together in his vehicle—one of my new favourite things—when his phone rings.
“Oui, bonjour. — Yes. Hello. — Yes, well we have Maddie who is available right now.” He looks at me and flashes me a cheeky smile. “Yes, very lovely girl. She’s new, and she is very nice. Very pretty, quite smart. — Yes, she speaks English.”
There is a pause and he looks at my chest.
“Uh, I think they are… Big Bs?”
I shake my head and gesture to the sunroof with my thumb and open my coat.
I mouth Double D to him and pull down one of the zippers on my dress to flash a peek at my turquoise. He gapes at me.
I pull the zipper all the way down to expose my bra to him and lean in, inviting him to touch.
“No, sir. I mean…”
He takes a quick glance out the window like he’s checking to make sure the bosslady isn’t standing right there. She’s not. He reaches out with caution and cups the underside of my breast.
“Yes, they are actually,” he clears his throat as he gives me a squeeze, “Double D, sir. Yes.”
There is another pause while the client continues his enquiry, and Jean-Michel continues to explore me.
“No, sir, I haven’t, how you say, had a chance to sample the goods,” he locks his gaze onto mine and bites his lip. I stifle a laugh as his hand passes to the other side and gives me another squeeze. “But the reviews have been very positive so far.”
I’m done for the day. Four calls. Four lovely men. Four very different stories. But now it’s time to keep writing mine.
Jean-Michel and I are parked near a metro station downtown. We’re waiting for another girl—Valérie—to arrive.
“Is Valérie supposed to be here soon?” I ask.
“She should probably be here any minute.”
“So I probably shouldn’t do this then?”
I put my hand behind his neck and pull his face to mine. Not that I have to pull very hard. He comes more than willingly. Heaven help me, if it wasn’t the most passionate thing I’d experienced in some time if ever. I can’t remember the last time someone kissed me like they really meant it. That’s not a knock at my clients; my chosen lovers have been lacklustre at best for too long.
When we separate, Jean-Michel says, “I have to get a proper look at these,” and tease the top of my zipper. I press my chest to his hand, encouraging him to unwrap me.
He literally swoons on the reveal. Grabbing and kissing at every bit of flesh he can find.
“He wakes up so fast!” he says as he pulls back to look at all of me again, referring to his budding erection. He rubs himself a bit, trying to readjust his pants that look like they’re becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He invites me to see what he’s talking about. Just as I reach over to stroke him through his denim, his phone vibrates.
“Shit,” he groans, looking around to see if we’ve been spotted.
Valérie is arriving.
I sigh, zip and buckle myself back into place like nothing happened. I check my face in the mirror.
“You look great,” he assures me and squeezes my thigh with a warm palm.
Just then, Valérie opens the back door and crawls inside from the cold. She greets us with chattering teeth and warm greetings.
“It’s so hot in here,” she exclaims in her heavily-accented English. “I love it.”
Jean-Michel and I share a knowing look as he puts the SUV into Drive.
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