Dorsai - Taxi

I looked at her as I answered "I'm not as embarrassed as I am feeling awkward. Different social level, I suppose."

She looked at me sharply before telling me "No, I don't feel that way because I'm rich and you're not, or because you're a cabbie. I'm embarrassed because I just let you have me on the floor of a shop, and because I just got too damn excited and couldn't control myself."

Hearing that, I knew that I might be able to set her mind at ease – and maybe save myself some grief, too.

Squatting down so that we were on the same level, I took her hand in mine and said "Katherine, it sounds to me like you're beating yourself up about it – and there's no reason for you to."

She snorted, and wryly said "What, I should think that you're just too damn studly for me to resist your charms?"

I patiently answered "No, I don't have enough ego to try and say anything like that. Would you give me the courtesy of listening to me for a moment?"

She nodded her head, if a bit reluctantly, and I told her "Katherine, I don't know if you remember, or not, but you said a few things before we got… distracted."

Snorting again, she muttered "Yeah, distracted!" before I continued "You said that your husband died several years ago, and that with all the money you have, you feel like you have to worry about whether a guy is interested in you or not. You also said that you've had to hold in all your feelings and desires, too, since then. Maybe I'm a little out of line, but it sure as hell seemed to me that you're a fairly passionate woman, and that you've got a healthy interest in physical pleasure. So considering how long it's been since your husband died, and how little intimacy it sounds like you've had, I don't think it's unreasonable to figure there was a lot of pent up emotion and everything in you."

Seeing that I had her attention, I continued "Something else you said was that knowing that I was getting excited by looking at you made those feelings even stronger. That sure sounds to me like seeing that I was getting excited by looking at you made you realize – consciously or not – that I could maybe be a… I don't know… safety valve of sorts for everything that you've been keeping pushed down. I mean, think about it: we're from two different towns, pretty much opposite ends of the economic spectrum, and basically just thrown together for just a single day. There isn't a chance in hell that I'd ever have the opportunity to try and wangle money out of you – even if I had the desire, which I don't. But I'm not really a complete stranger, either: you've gotten to know at least a little bit about me, after all. And because I'm a cab driver, and not some professional gigolo, you know that the reaction you got from me was true, and honest; I started to get hard not because you were paying me, but because of how you looked."

Taking a breath, I went on "That was even more obvious when you took the panties off, and then the bra – I mean, you did say that you needed me; and then later, that you'd go crazy if it didn't happen. Finally, there's the way you responded when it did happen; I already know that I'm not some great stud lover or anything, so those orgasms you had happened because you needed them – all I did was provide the necessary stimulation. I'm saying that I don't think that it was your 'fault', any more than it was mine. What I think maybe happened was just the unique match of you, and me, and here, and now. Just think about it: how many little things could have gone differently today that would have kept this from happening? That first time you asked me what I thought of something – what if I wasn't who I am, and had just said I thought it looked fine, instead of answering the way I did. Would you have gotten as interested in me as much as you did, and taken the time to learn about me, and get to know me? Would we have even been in this room together?"

I could see by the expression on her face and the look in her eyes that Katherine understood what I was saying, and was thinking about it. I simply shifted my position to rest on one knee while I waited to hear what she had to say in response.

A minute or so went by before she looked into my eyes and said "I… I think you're right. About it being just one of those freak occurrence kind of things, I mean. Except that I haven't experienced too many of those that have ended with semen leaking out of me!"

I couldn't help smiling as I replied "I don't doubt that's true. But then again, how many of them have there been where you've had orgasms?"

Giving me a surprisingly shy grin, she answered "Um… that would be the same number – just the one."

"There you go then; that just proves my point, don't you think?" I asked, grinning back at her.

"Be that as it may", she told me, "we still have something of a problem, here: how to get out of this place without them realizing that we've been in one of their changing rooms, fornicating like a couple of rabbits. This towel alone will have them talking for weeks, never mind the smell in here!"

Once she mentioned it, I realized that there was a distinct aroma of aroused female in the air. I considered things for a bit, then suggested "Would you be willing to dump some of whatever perfume you have with you right before we leave? You could claim you spilled it, and that would cover the smell."

It took her only a moment to respond "Yes, that would work quite well, I think. But this towel…"

"It goes with us, then. You obviously wouldn't have any reason to take it, so even if they notice a shortage in this room, they'll figure they just mis-counted somewhere along the line. If you'd like, I'll even be the one to take it."

"No, that won't be necessary; I have plenty of room in my handbag for it" she replied, somewhat absently – at the time, she was checking to see if all of my cum had drained out of her. Apparently deciding that it had, she moved to stand up again; I quickly got to my feet and helped her up. When she was on her feet, she finally noticed that I hadn't yet fastened my pants all the way. With a wry grin, she extended the towel to me, saying "If I'm going to be stealing this, you might as well get some use out of it, too!"

I couldn't help blushing slightly as I took it from her; as I started to turn around so I could clean up, she told me "James, this hardly seems the time to start getting bashful, after making me feel so good and dumping what felt like quarts of your semen in me!"

That only made me blush harder until I realized that not only was she not upset about what had happened, but that she was actually feeling somewhat playful. Taking what she said at face value, I simply unfastened my slacks again, and unconcernedly went about cleaning off my cock as she watched me. When I was done, I simply folded the towel over a few times so that the wettest part of it was on the inside before she gestured for me to set it next to her purse.

With our bodies more-or-less cleaned up, the next order of business was to get ready to make our exit; Katherine asked me to gather the bra and panty set while she got dressed again. I had picked them up and straightened them out so that they looked approximately like they had in the box when she asked me if I'd bring them to her behind the privacy screen. I wasn't prepared to find her wearing only a pair of stockings (sans garter belt) and pair of very brief, French-cut panties – but no bra. She was easily as attractive and appealing in her (apparently) original clothes as she'd been in the items from the shop, and I couldn't help looking her over again. She didn't seem to notice, and simply took the stuff and put it in the box with the other items after shuffling them around a bit.

My hands empty again, I took a step back so I could give her some privacy again, but she stopped me by saying "No, don't go. I could use your help with my dress."