Taxi Driver

TAXI DRIVER




In my 15 years as a Taxi Driver I’ve seen some funny things but nothing compares to what happened in my cab last Thursday night.

It had been another slow evening when I got a call to pick up a some passengers at a trendy bar in the centre of town; then take them to a country house hotel about 35 miles away. I checked my watch and decided to end my shift after I’d dropped them off as it was roughly in the same direction as my home.

The street was well lit but quiet so I soon spotted them as I approached the bar in my VW Sharan 7 seater taxi.

. They were both obviously very merry – he was trying to pull her against him but she was laughing and pushed him away; gently slapping his hand in admonishment. They hardly noticed the large car or even me until I opened the sliding door and asked, “Are you Mr and Mrs Huntley?”

“Not exactly!” The man chuckled; “I’m Mr. Huntley but this young lady is Mrs. Palmer.”

The woman swung away from his clutches and stooped to get into the back seat. I discretely hid a smile as I got an eyeful of breast and nipple as her dress hung forward exposing her unencumbered bosoms. The man grinned as he grabbed her hips and squeezed her arse in a false attempt at aiding her. Again she playfully slapped him away.

He was in his late 50’s or early 60’s, quite tall with grey receding hair and a fat belly that was actively forcing itself out of his loose silk shirt.
She was in her late 20’s and quite pretty with shoulder length wavy red hair, rimless glasses and a shortish very low cut yellow summer dress. Both were wearing wedding rings but obviously not married to each other.

At first I thought she could have been an escort; but on closer inspection I realised she was wearing a High Street dress and shoes – probably M&S. The escorts around here wear more ‘Continental’ labels and usually dress a lot more tartily. On the other hand he was head to toe in Designer labels – Versace shirt, Gucci slip-ons, Breitling watch and a chain around his neck that would have paid my mortgage for 6 months.

As I slowly pulled away from the kerb I looked in the rear-view mirror to see him drunkenly trying to fasten her seat belt but really just copping a feel of her bouncing tits. They soon gave up fiddling with the clasp and just sat on the back seat without seat belts on. I know I should have forced them to belt up but it’s my experience that it would have been a waste of time with drunks like this.

“Are you in town on business?” I asked over my shoulder.

“I’m at the Exhibition Centre for a couple of days,” The man responded without taking his eyes off the woman. “And I’ve just signed a big contract with Mrs. Palmer’s company so we’ve been out celebrating…..on her expenses.”

“Did you have you had a good evening?” I carried on the useless conversation.

“Yes thanks.” The man replied, “A nice meal and some nice wine and bottle of champagne…… then a couple of lines of Charlie.”

“Ssshhhh!” The woman giggled as she struggled to put her finger to her bright red lips.

The man put his left arm around her to stop her falling off the seat; then kissed Mrs Palmer firmly on her painted lips.