How Will I Pay?

My first instinct is to shove my bag, the one that betrayed me by being too empty and devoid of my wallet, down to the footwell and by my feet. I just want it away from me, otherwise I might wrench it open in a **** bid to find my wallet and that would probably play my hand. Before I do that, I need to have a plan for how to cover the cost of a cab without cash at all.

Something tells me this guy won't take an IOU.

Fuck, how could I have been so stupid? Hell when I left the house I wasn't even in a fucking rush. Well I was but I didn't know it. I thought I had hours to spare.

Dumping my bag out onto the bed was such a mistake.

How on earth am I going to pay for this ride? I don't know the guy driving but even I can see from the look of him that he isn't going to take me at my word. Frankly he has the energy of a guy who has been doing this job for too fucking long and who, at this point, had heard every single excuse in the book. He also had the look of a guy who wasn't going to be persuaded by a cute face and puppy dog eyes.

Not that he wasn't clearly interested in me. While I shuffled uncomfortably in the passenger seat I kept on catching glimpses of him checking out my legs and then moving on. Once he'd had his fill of my thighs he'd swept his gaze not so subtly to my chest, no doubt filling his spank bank for later with the memory of the braless girl in the thin and loose shirt who had decided to ride in the front passenger seat of his car.

The thought of that, it made it harder for me.

I was a guy, for a long time. I was a guy who went through puberty too. I was more than familiar with the concept of your body and your mind not being in communication as far as interest.

Guys are used to getting turned on by unfortunately ordinary and mundane things. They're also used to getting turned on by things they don't want. They're also used to getting turned on by nearly everything, for a span of years at least.

And I guess I'd always kind of figured that women were immune to that. But current circumstances seem to be proving that to be the opposite, seem to be proving that the gender divide isn't quite as wide a gulf as people make it out to be.

Men are from Mars. Women are from Venus. But in getting turned on? Doesn't matter whether or not you've got a penis.

Well that almost rhymed.

Gotta focus on distractions like that. Gotta try to let my mind drift. Search for a better rhyme, because I can do that. Come on Emily, fucking focus on that instead of letting your body take the lead. Because if you lose control...

Shifting uncomfortably in my seat. A squirming heat in my belly that spreads out to my thighs and makes them squeeze. A burbling through me, rushing up in waves from the pit of my stomach and spreading such a warmth, such a tension through me. As my muscles go taut. As I close my eyes and bite my bottom lip and blush while my nipples go hard and prick out at my shirt.

Fuck, I'm turned on. It's obvious. He knows it.

The cab driver wrenches the car to a stop and I chance a glance to see that we've met another red light. I let out a slow breath and turn, and he barely even notices that I'm looking at him.

His eyes are narrowed. His lips slightly parted. His tongue slipping out to wet his lips lasciviously as he memorizes the sight of my braless breasts pressing at the loose and light fabric of my shirt.

"Fuck," he whispers under his breath, so quiet that I wouldn't even hear it if I wasn't listening for it.

Jesus, this is wrong. To even think it is wrong.

But I don't have two pennies to rub together to cover the bill of this ride, and if I don't come up with an alternative soon then something **** might just have to happen.

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