Services Paid For Services Rendered

"You can't fuck me," I say quickly.

He shakes his head, "That's a line, but there is a whole lot between here and there. I'm not going to be satisfied with just seeing your tits and letting you rub me through my pants. You're going to have to do better than that. I'm not going to let a tease walk out of my cab scott free."

"I'm not a tease," I pout.

He laughs again, "Sure you're not. So many freshman girls step into cabs without wearing a bra, showing off their tight little bodies and then conveniently forgetting their wallet. You pledging, darling?"

"Pledging?" I ask, realizing too late that he's implying this is some kind of sorority stunt.

"Don't worry," he winks, "I won't ask too many details. But I will say that you have teased me. You got me all worked up there in your thin little shirt with your cute little titties poking out at me. Sitting their in your little skirt with those stockings on. Your legs all begging for me to part them and slide my hand in. God you got me worked up, you tight little bitch. So what are you going to do about it?"

He drags my hand forward and places it between his legs. He pushes into what is unmistakably only a bulge that is hard and eager for me, proving that he can talk a big game but he is absolutely not immune to my charms.

I shouldn't be proud of that, but I am. Because the fact of the matter is that he's older and more experienced, that he's probably seen more in his life than I ever did and yes there is a certain appeal in youth and yes maybe it's silly that I'm almost proud of the fact that I can get a guy like this hard, but I can.

And I'm not going to discount that.

I bite my bottom lip as he rubs my hand over his bulge and, instinctively, my hand closes over it. My fingers start to hold and then rhythmically squeeze him as a light little moan escapes my lips and I drag my eyes from his face down to where I'm working my obscene magic.

"God you're good at that," he chuckles.

"At what?" I ask him.

"Making me believe that you're really enjoying yourself."

I shrug, squeezing him and then tearing my gaze up to look at him, "What if I'm not pretending?"

"You are," he shakes his head, "I know who I am. I know who you are. Girls as fine as you don't go for old fat assholes like me without me having to pay for it. And darling I ain't paying enough for the effort you're putting in."

I smile coyly, "I thought you said over the pants stuff wouldn't be enough for you."

"It isn't," he grumbles, "No matter how convincing you are, it isn't. So what are you going to do?"

"What do you want me to do?"

That's the wrong question to ask.

When I ask it his eyes light up with wicked delight and he launches forward with his free hand, grabbing the back of my head and dragging me across the cab over to him.

I gasp in surprise but all that does is part my lips. I have neither the strength nor the reflexes to twist out of his grasp and so he pulls me onto him, tugging me close enough and fast enough that it sets me off balance and I tumble in against him.

And then his lips are on mine and because mine were parted his tongue pushes in. Needy and insistent and oh so greedy he kisses me, claiming my mouth while my body is crushed against him.

And it's bad. He smells like smoke and old coffee. He is acrid and he is rough, the stubble of his jowls pressing against him as his hand holds me to him and his tongue is almost slimy as it invades me.

It is foul.

And I don't pull away.

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