A Slut called Linda

When I spoke with the taxi driver on the phone, he had agreed to come to the room for my car keys, go down to the parking garage, retrieve my work clothes, and bring them back to me. At least, that was the plan. I figured he'd want a blowjob for his troubles, and I would make sure he knew how much I appreciated his help. Then, I'd get dressed, get in my car, and go home. If my husband was home, I wasn't sure what I'd tell him. That I fucked a marketing client after work and lost track of time? I'd cross that divorce when I got to it. Chances were high that he wouldn't even be home. He must not have been too concerned, as he hadn't even called to ask where I was. Even though we weren't close, anymore, that still hurt.

A soft knock on the door made me jump.

A few seconds went by, and there were a few more knocks, a little harder. I looked through the peep hole, and seeing that it wasn't housekeeping, opened the door.

The taxi driver let himself in as soon as I turned the handle. I stepped back and accidentally let my towel drop as the door closed behind him. He stepped forward, and stepped on the towel, preventing me from picking it up and covering myself.

"Don't bother with that," he said, handing me a shopping bag different than the one I had put my work clothes in.

He looked different than I had remembered. Taller? More muscular? I looked inside the shopping bag, and found a new hoodie, yoga pants, and flip flops, all with the tags still on them.

I was about to ask him how much I owed him, when he said, "I guessed at your size, but it should be good enough to get you to your car, Slut. Checkout time was an hour ago. You'd better hurry your ass up."

"Thank you..." I started. "You know, I don't even know your name."

"You can call me Lenny, if you want," the taxi driver said. "But, I'm still going to call you Slut."

I couldn't believe my clit had throbbed when he said that. Was I actually getting wet, again?

"I think that's appropriate," I said, setting the shopping bag on the bed. "How much do I owe you, Lenny?" I stepped forward and started undoing his belt.

"Nothing," he said, abruptly reaching for my wrist. "This time."

"Are you sure?" I said, knowing what was waiting for me between his legs, and wanting to get fucked by it, badly.

He pushed me onto the bed, not quite playfully. I spread my legs, thinking he wanted to lick my pussy, but he just looked at my swollen sex for a few seconds before pulling my legs together and flipping me over. I groaned as he pulled my cheeks apart and breathed on my puckered anus. I tried to convince myself that my butt hole would return to normal some day, if that's what he was after.

He was bigger than any of the black college boys I had just been with, with the exception of Darius. But where Darius was wide, he wasn't particularly long, or thick for most of his shaft. Lenny was easily over nine inches of thick manhood that I was more than willing to be a slave to.

Instead, Lenny flipped me back over and dumped the contents of the shopping bag on me.

"Tempting, really. But it looks like someone rode you hard last night. If I fucked you now, I'd tear you up," Lenny said, securing his belt. "Get dressed and get out of here."

"Are you sure?" I asked again, pulling the tags off the hoodie and yoga pants.

"I'll pay you a visit in a few days," Lenny said. "Maybe a week or two. Maybe more than once. I think we might make it a regular thing."

"What?... Where?" I asked, quickly putting on the clothes and stepping into the flip flops.

"Wherever I want, I suppose," he said. "Maybe the cab, or here. Maybe your office. Hell, maybe I'll come to your house and fuck you in your own bed, Slut. Think your hubby would appreciate that?"

"Please, don't!" I pleaded. "Can't I just blow you, now?" The way he was talking to me, and his deep voice... my pussy was practically gushing.

Another knock on the door.

"Housekeeping," a woman's voice called out.

Another knock, and the door opened. Luckily, I was dressed this time.

"I guess not," Lenny said. "I've got your number. See you soon, Slut."

I grabbed the plastic hotel laundry bag with my lingerie outfit, my purse, and then put both in the shopping bag Lenny had brought. I tried to look mad as I walked past Lenny. He made no effort to follow me.

The housekeeper quickly stepped out of my way.

I was smiling by the time I made it to the elevator.

I still had no idea what to say to my husband as I put my keys on the hook near the mud room door. I had managed to change into my previous day's work clothes on the way home, but it turned out to be unnecessary.

His car was in the garage, but he wasn't home. That usually meant he took an Uber to the airport.

Or, a taxi.

A folded note was waiting for me on the kitchen table.

"L, I was called late last night to go to a late-morning meeting in New York. I had to take the redeye flight, so I left before you got home. You know how it is. Hope you didn't drink too much. Tell me about it later. Love, H"

I took another shower, put on fresh work clothes, a touch of make-up, and made a cup of coffee before heading out the door. So far, the Preparation H was doing its job. As I threw away a napkin in the trash can, I caught a glimpse of a familiar looking business card mixed in with the trash. I rustled through my purse and pulled out a more worn, but otherwise identical business card.

A taxi service business card.

"Oh, shit," I said to myself. "I don't how or by how much, but I guess things are going to get complicated.

Fuck it," I said, and finished my coffee. "I'm a slut. I'll handle it."

And off to work I went.