Rick and Ruby - Encounters

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Encounter 1

"D-don't..." I could hardly concentrate enough to tell him anything. My body just wasn't able to cope with the ravaging it was getting. "You...damn...moron," I gasped between breaths. He gasped as well. I don't think there was a sane thought in either of our heads. I almost felt sick, bobbing to and fro on my back. Shutting my eyes only boosted the sensations of touch. But still, he didn't stop moving. He probably couldn't now, he was so far gone into the moment. I wish I could have said the same, but the pleasure had gone from these little backseat sessions. I wasn't even in the mood to fake it anymore.

Finally, Rick quit thrusting himself and collapsed on top of me. I felt nothing inside, in either sense of the phrase. I just stared at the ceiling as he struggled to support his own weight on his arms. He spoke up after what felt like...I don't even know how long, now.

"That's...good," he struggled to say. He was trying so hard to breathe that I wondered if I accidentally hit him in the gut during the act. "Think I might'a shot a blank though..."

"Rick?"

"Look, Ruby, I gotta come clean." Rick zipped up as he tried to remember where he put his shirt. "This isn't really...exciting, anymore."

I finally found my words. "You think you're the only one, is that it? That nobody else feels this way?" I was still mostly naked, and lying flat on my back in the seat of the car, but somehow I quit feeling vulnerable a few "sessions" ago. Sort of like I didn't have anything else to lose.

"Well, remember, you weren't doing this for the joy of sex..."

"You probably were, though, ya horn-dog." I contemplated falling asleep there, because I was so spent from the evening's activities, but knew I had things that needed saying. "I haven't paid money for your cab in three months. You've known I'm not good for the fare, but you keep taking me on anyway."

"Want to know a secret?" He finished buttoning his shirt, and whipped his snap-brim hat out of a pants pocket. "I never run the meter."

"So your concept of payment for services rendered is already a bit twisted."

"Well, not as such. I'm just saying, you've been free to say 'no' the whole time, but you haven't."

"Rick, you damn moron..."

"I mean, you're in law school, aren't you? You of all people should know that my word wouldn't hold up in court. It's not written, anyway, so I've got no proof I ever told you that you couldn't ride with me unless you rode *on* me." He looked me over, his eyes very obviously locking on to my more intimate parts, until they met my now-furious gaze. "But really? I'm glad you agreed to it, in any case, because it's been fun, and you are drop dead gorgeous naked."

The sun was starting to come out, and I couldn't decide whether I wanted to sleep or get pissed off. My brain chose neither, as I continued lying on the bench-seat, largely unclad. "You like to pick the weirdest times to compliment me, don't you?"

"Well, you probably would have started yelling at me otherwise, wouldn't you?" He carefully slid himself out the back door and onto the pavement, never once taking his eyes off me.

"You must not know me as well as I thought." I tried to prop myself up on my elbows, only then realizing how sore I was. "Rick, I'd like to thank you for driving me around all the time, but this back seat stuff has gotta stop."

"I don't disagree. In fact, I..." He trailed off as something approached him from behind. I wasn't able to see what it was at first, only that Rick turned around to greet it. "Oh, um, hi there. What seems to be the problem?"

A more gruff voice responded. "Pacific Police. You're an awful long way from the road, aren't you?"

"Yes, it would appear that I am," Rick replied. I remained as still as I could, while also moving my arms to my waist to try to get my clothes back together. My pants were still stuck around my ankles, making it impossible to reach them without a lot of really obvious movement.

"You're aware that this is not a public road?"

Rick very carefully stood in front of the back door. "I...suppose it had slipped my mind."

"What brought you down here? Fare ask you to drop them here?"

"Not exactly..."

"Your engine's not running, and you're not blinking your hazard lights," the gruff man continued. "Now, I suppose I could almost let you off with a warning, but there are just too many little things adding up here, so I'm gonna have to ask you to step away from the car."

"Am I being detained?" Rick patiently folded his arms.

"Can you step away from the car?"

"I want to know if I'm being detained or if I am under arrest."

"Sir, please step away from the car."

"Am I under--"

"Sir, step away from the fucking car, I will not warn you again!"

"Alright, Jesus!" Rick suddenly stepped out of the way of the door, revealing me to the police officer. I hadn't even managed to get my shirt buttoned, let alone my pants up, so I was now very much exposed.

"Oh, ho," said the officer. His eyes sized me up in much the same way Rick's did, but it felt quite a bit less welcome now. I just glared back at him. "You're his fare, aren't you?" I couldn't say anything to him. "Alright, let's get you out of there." The officer grabbed my legs and tugged.

"Hey! Ow! Fuckin' watch it!" There's no way I could convince you that it felt good to be yanked out of a cab.

"Lady, you're already not in great standing, considering your driver here is possibly looking at a trespass charge, but considering you're all but naked back there, it might not be so clear cut for you."

"At least let me get my pants back up then. Christ, that seat is not the kind of thing you want to be dragged on."

"Well, ya should've thought about that before you decided to fuck on it," the officer chuckled. I wasn't so happy with the way he was conducting himself.

Encounter 2

“Hey there, missy. Where ya off to?” Rick makes a particular show of licking his hand and using it to slick back his hair, which is already shinier than it really should be. I don’t answer him just yet; I reach for the handle of the rear door, but he stops me before I pull it. “Nah, up front. I insist.” Rick leans over and pulls up the locking peg. I don’t particularly want to sit there, but Rick tends to be stubborn and not drive the damn car when he doesn’t get his way.

As soon as I’m settled into the seat, Rick drapes his arm over my shoulders. “How’s America’s hottest law student been today?”

“Rick, could you spare me the mating calls? I’m not happy today.” My hands are firmly in my lap, though I’m sure Rick expected them to go elsewhere.

“Aw, what’s wrong?”

“It’s…look, I don’t want to talk about it right now. Could you haul me to Tristan Avenue? That’s all I ask today.”

He grabs my shoulder a little tighter and pulls me closer along the bench seat. “Ruby, come on, don’t be like that. Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to.” I knew it was a bad idea to sit up front. Sooner or later, he’s going to notice I’m gloomier than usual and he’ll do something stupid to cheer me up.

“….You know what, maybe you’re right. Tristan Avenue, you say?” he asks, to which I just nod. “Alright. Free of charge today, then.” He smacks the meter, switching it off, and shifts the yellow cab into gear with his left hand. Rick’s the sort of guy who would - and did - modify his entire car just so he could shift gears without letting go of the woman by his side.

Even though I’m in the middle of sulking - at this point, I forget why - I glance at Rick when he’s busy focusing on the road. Mama likes to tell me to remind myself once in a while why my friends are my friends, and looking at Rick right now, I don’t need much reminding. He’s exactly the sort of tall, lean, handsome guy that tends to show up when a girl like me decides she’s not interested in the musclemen. The corduroy jacket, navy blue, hides his true outline, but nothing hides the angular face, decorated as it is with stubble that says, “I’ve never had to shave in my life, ever.” Atop the auburn slick of hair that goes halfway down his neck - he probably uses axle grease or pomade to give it that shine - is his favorite old argyle cabbie hat. It looks like it came out of an old Broadway film; the sort of thing you might see on Paul Newman, alongside a big ol’ Stogie.

The cab pulls alongside the curb and stops so slowly that I barely notice that we aren’t moving anymore until Rick pulls the parking brake. He turns a little in his part of the seat, leaning down to meet my eyes. It’s difficult for him, given how tall he is, and how tall I’m not. “Hey. Whatever’s going on, you know you can tell me, right?” His hand is still firmly on my back. I don’t want to talk to him today, but it’s hard to resist the warmth of his hand. Comforting…but there are further implications behind it, I’m sure, that I don’t feel like being a part of tonight.

“I feel like…I dunno. Some kind of shitty puppet. I’m not doing things because I want to do them anymore. I’m doing them because…fuck.”

“You’re cute when you swear, most of the time, but that’s not the kind of reason I think I’m looking for.”

“I don’t think I’m feelin’ it, tonight, Rick.” I peek out the windshield, past the argyle of Rick’s hat. This isn’t Tristan Avenue.

“When have I ever led you astray, Ruby? Wasn’t it you that said my advice was more helpful than I get credit for?”

“I’m just not looking for advice tonight. I think I need to sleep on it.”

“What, you’re not even gonna get pissed off? Now I know something’s wrong.”

“Just…lay off, please.” I reach for the seatbelt buckle and release it, but it is Rick that stops me from getting out of the cab. His brown eyes meet mine, and both of us are frozen in the moment.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry. I won’t push you any harder for an answer, but I want you to know I’m here for you whenever you’re ready to talk.” He breaks his gaze and looks out his window. “But I wouldn’t get out just yet. Tristan’s still a few blocks up.”

“I’ll be alright,” I assure him, even though I’m not really sure that I mean it. “Thanks for the ride, but I’ll have to get back to you. I just want to go sleep for an entire day right now. It sucks out here.”

“Sure you don’t need someone to cuddle with?”

“Don’t make me.” There’s vitriol in those words, I realize only after I’ve said them. I only wanted to tell him “no,” not spit acid at him. But he just shrugs it off.

“Okay, that’s alright by me. I’ll see you next time, and hopefully then you can tell me what’s wrong. But I won’t push on it right now. You go get your beauty sleep.” He finally takes his hand off my back. A shiver runs down my spine as I realize how cold I am without it there.

I really don’t want to think about it, but I can’t quite tell if this is love, or the makings of a bad case of anxiety. Just to make sure he hasn’t got the wrong idea, I wave at him as he drives off, but I’m not sure he’s seen it, and I notice afterwards that I wasn’t really waving at all, just holding a hand in the air. I let the hand fall and dangle by my side. I glance at a nearby street sign again, and find that, while this isn’t Tristan Avenue, it is the end of the street where my house is. Maybe Rick’s been paying more attention than I thought…but I’ve never once asked him.

Encounter 3

"This has...got to stop..." I'm so out of breath that I can't do much more than whisper it. My body may have acted like it enjoyed that, maybe wanted more, but now that it's over, my brain has switched back on, and it isn't happy about the way I just paid my tab for the third night in a row. My elbows give way, and I collapse back on the bench seat.

Rick almost falls back over on top of me, but catches himself by grabbing the front headrest. He's still mostly clothed - guess he felt more like a quickie, tonight - but that skinny chest of his is hard to hide. The way he carries himself, and his fashion sensibilities (what he's still got on, anyway) make me wonder if he's part-Scottish. That'd be a hell of a thing...a half-Scottish cab driver, receiving sexy kickbacks from a half-Irish law student, because said student ran out of living expenses and couldn't pay the fare? Well, I'm sure a good number of embarrassing holdovers from the Depression era would think it was fucking hilarious. I just wonder how the hell I keep convincing myself I really want to keep doing this.

"Christ, Ruby...gonna be weak in the knees all night, hahahah..." He always cackles like he just survived a skydive without a parachute. I guess his brain really does get deprived of oxygen during the act.

I inch away from him on the seat, bumping my head on the door, about where the window crank is. "Fffuck!" I declare, rubbing my head. I find it to be a sudden moment of clarity. "Why do I keep doing this with you, Rick?" I do my best to reach for my pants, halfway down my knees.

"I'm not so sure myself. Maybe we just like it." He's tugging on his own pants, as best as he can manage in the tight quarters of his own back seat.

"Once, all of once, I said yes to this, because I was out of money and needed to get home."

"And you keep saying yes, because you're still out of money. Or maybe you secretly enjoy it?"

My feet instinctively reach for his face. He backs off just fast enough that I miss him, but the message is clear enough. "Fuck that, I know what I like, and that..." I stop myself. My body definitely enjoyed what just happened. I'll probably spend the remainder of the walk home tripping over my legs and clinging for dear life to the bannister on my way upstairs. "...ugh, I can't even say it."

"You didn't like it?" He cinches up his belt. "Maybe it's true what they say, you quit liking things as soon as you're required to do them."

"The way you just put that, it sounds almost like you're blackmailing me into this."

"It'd be an awful awkward call to the cab company, wouldn't it?" He mimes picking up a handset and putting it up to his ear. "'Hello, boss? I had a fare skip out on me. Yeah, she's been out of money the last three times I've picked her up, I know she doesn't have money...what's that, boss? Call the police?'"

I snatch the "handset" from his head. "Now it REALLY sounds like blackmail, and I want out."

"Who're they gonna believe? The cab driver who's been taking sexual favors in lieu of fares, or the girl who's been agreeing to it?"

"You know 99% of sexual assault victims are women, right?"