My Cheating Girlfriend (Pt. II)

My Cheating Girlfriend (Pt. II)

Storm clouds rolled over the darkening streets of the town centre, as she stood teetering on her stiletto heels. A cool breeze rustling the pleats of her skirt as lamp posts hummed to life, illuminating the sidewalk as passersby brushed their way home. Shopkeepers rolled down the security gates of their premises, signalling the end of another busy weeks trading, while lights flickered on inside the pubs and clubs down the high street, to welcome the throngs of late-night revellers that were sure to populate the area in mere hours. As a trademark black cab pulled to the curb, she dropped her arm and reached for the door handle.

“Where to, love?” the welcoming query of the cabbie, as she entered and took her seat.

As she gave the driver her address, he humored her with a jovial;

“Pretty girl like you, dressed to kill? And you’re off home? Seems such a shame, considering.”

“Considering what?” she asked.

As he pulled out of the taxi bay, the driver responded;

“Well, pardon me if I’m speaking out of turn, but with a skirt like that you should really be hitting the town.”

He raised his glance to the rear view mirror, and gave her a sly wink. She smiled at his compliment, her eyes drawn to his through the reflective surface. She thought to herself, ‘Hmm… he’s not half bad. Not your typical cabbie.’ And, she was right. He wasn’t balding, like most in his profession. His physique wasn’t overly paunchy. Probably not too many early morning bacon sarnies, or late-night pints down the pub after his shift had ended. She estimated he was no more than 30, he obviously took care of himself, his muscular arms testament to that. He had a full head of dark hair with firm facial features. She couldn’t tell, but guessed he probably stood about 6 feet tall.

“How long have you been driving a cab?” she enquired.

“Not long, love. Only about a year or so,” he replied. “My father was a cabbie, his father was a cabbie, his father was, and his father before him probably ferried people by horse and carriage,” he joked. “It’s in the genes, I s’pose.”

“What else is in your jeans?” she retorted nonchalantly.

They smiled at each other one more time, and then she turned her gaze to the passenger side window, as droplets of rain began to fall.

She reached into her handbag, producing a compact and proceeded to fix her makeup.

“So, what is it that you do for a living?” The cabbie asked, breaking the silence.

“I work in a corner shop, in town.” She responded.

“Oh, there in the town centre?” He asked.

“No, in the town where I live. It’s just a small news agents. Been there a few months now.”

She reached into her carry-all once more retrieving her lip stick, and dabbed the rosy colour over her top lip. Then pursed her lips together making sure to even out her makeup.

The journey continued, uneventful. They both continued to flirt, with witty comments here and there. But eventually the cab pulled up outside her residence and she proceeded to pay the fare and exited. The cabbie’s glance never detracting from her slender frame as she strode to her front door, inserted the key into the lock, entered and closed the door behind her. Puffing out his cheeks, the cabbie thought to himself ‘Mmm, I’ll see you later, sweetheart!’ as he shifted his throbbing member in the confines of his tight jeans and lazily thought of what she would be doing in his thoughts as he would stroke himself to climax later that evening.

—-

Upon entering the house, my girlfriend retrieves the post from the floor, places it on a little side table, steps out of her heels, drops her key by the post, and skips up the stairs. Heading for the bedroom, she drops her handbag on the floor, and slumps on the bed. Reaching for a throw pillow, she stares off into space and dreamily recounts everything that had happened earlier that day.

‘That was so unlike me, I’ve never done anything like that since I’ve been with my boyfriend. I know we have problems, but who doesn’t?! We’re going to have disagreements, sure. But, are ours any different from anybody else’s? If we were to break up, do I honestly think that I’d be happy? Do I need anyone else? Do I want anyone else? Do I want to be in a long-term relationship, or do I need to be on my own? Do I want to be tied down, or do I want to have some fun, while I’m still young?