Drive - A Tickling Story

A mouthy, conceited young businesswoman meets her ticklish demise in the rear seat of her chauffeur's car. M/F

- I -

On the corner of a busy intersection, Henry found himself slumped over the steering wheel of his black sedan, gazing up at an office building. It was an imposing structure, with polished aluminum and mirrored glass panels stretching toward the clouds. A modern engineering marvel, it towered over everyone at street level, appearing as a physical manifestation of vertical career trajectory and near-endless business aspirations. But, the same could be said about dozens of similar buildings that littered the downtown core and blocked the sky from view.

The drone of rush hour traffic grew steadily louder. Hordes of pedestrians ambled by; a sea downturned heads staring at their devices. How they managed to maneuver through the crowd without colliding with another human being was remarkable, Henry thought, shortly before rolling up his window in an effort to silence the grating sounds of the city.

After several years as a chauffeur, he'd grown accustomed to the noise - and clientele - but, it never became any easier. It didn't matter who he picked up; male or female, young or old, it was all the same. Interchangeable people wearing tailored suits, briefcases in hand, wearing polished leather dress shoes or high heels. Everyone had somewhere to go, and little time to spare. Finding someone who could slow down and have a chat was a rarity, it seemed, and he'd accepted that he was looked upon as a service to be used. The days were long, navigating congested streets and avoiding jaywalkers who darted out in front of moving vehicles without a second thought. Not to mention ongoing roadwork at multiple points throughout the city, bringing traffic to a standstill for longer than he thought possible.

His hand drifted toward the car's stereo controls, incrementally twisting the tuning knob, but mile-high towers of steel and concrete hindered the satellite signal, leaving nothing but harsh static; white noise that sounded eerily similar to the cityscape on the other side of his window. This, coupled with passing vehicles and shuffling bodies on the crowded sidewalk, ensured Henry was able to focus on little else.

Reaching in his shirt pocket to retrieve a small comb, Henry ran it through his neatly parted, coal-black hair, then returned it to the pocket while switching off the radio for good. He'd finally accepted the ambient background chatter of countless passersby on their way home, envious that his day hadn't also come to an end. But, he had one last client to pick up, and evidently punctuality was not her top concern. Withdrawing a pen from the coils of his well-worn notebook, Henry scrawled his estimated time of arrival and indicated the client's tardiness in the margin. It was a proven method of keeping on track, ensuring each pick-up and drop-off was prompt, while also jotting any notes regarding specific client needs.

One late pick-up would ordinarily throw off his entire schedule, affecting not only his other clients but his wallet as well - being penalized for someone else's error was not something he tolerated when it came time to collect his weekly paycheque - but in this case, it wasn't as much of an issue. After six o'clock he was technically on his own time, meaning the stress of adhering to a strict itinerary was off his mind, enabling him to wind down after another day of time constraints. After driving this final client to her home, he'd be headed to his own, and that pleasant thought did something to brighten his mood, if only slightly.

Yet as time ticked on his impatience grew, and he double-checked his driver's log to ensure he'd arrived at the correct location. He'd visited this section of town before - it was a frequent stop - but this wasn't his typical route, and was therefore unfamiliar with today's client list. The most recent message in the log indicated this was exactly where he needed to be, so he closed his eyes and resigned himself to waiting a little longer.

***

A rapid knock on the tinted glass window woke him with a start. A glance toward the clock on the dashboard indicated it was nearly six-thirty, and it appeared his wayward client had finally surfaced.

A brunette was standing to the immediate right of his car, shoulders squared as she squinted her hazel eyes in his direction. She was quite tall, though he imagined her imposing height was aided by a pair of high heels. Her olive skin was aglow with the light of the setting sun, bathed in splendid hues of pink and orange, amplified by countless mirror-like panes of glass from surrounding office buildings. Her arms were folded, a look of irritation on her thin face as she withdrew a small leather handbag from under her arm, using it to rap on the glass once more. As their eyes met, she tilted her head slightly and began tapping a foot impatiently against the concrete sidewalk. She appeared younger than his usual clients, likely twenty-five, give or take a few years.

"Door," came her muffled voice from the passenger side of the vehicle.

She was wearing formal business attire, dressed neatly in black, and although this elegant choice of clothing was commonplace, she pulled it off better than most. The multitude of gold rings decorating her slender fingers glittered in the sunlight as she adjusted the bold, black-framed glasses resting on her nose, while a matching gold necklace lay flat against her collarbone, leading his eye to her plunging neckline and ample cleavage.

"Door," she repeated sternly after clearing her throat.

Once his eyes had refocused somewhere slightly more appropriate, Henry couldn't help but wonder what she did for a living. One could assume she was a lawyer, or at the very least, a paralegal. Alternatively, she might be an assistant of sorts, though her stunning silhouette and stern facial expression led him to believe she held a position of power and wasn't confined to a reception desk on a daily basis.

The blazer she wore over her white dress shirt was perfectly tailored, hugging her curves while accentuating her lean, athletic figure. It was paired with a knee-length pencil skirt; high-waisted and flattering. Altogether it was a polished, professional appearance. She projected a look of superiority, from her clothing and jewelry to her body language, effortlessly exuding confidence without moving a muscle.

"Ahem,"

She cleared her throat yet again, plainly attempting to grab his attention. With a furrowed brow she tilted her head to the side while motioning with her eyes toward the rear passenger door handle.

"Would you care to unlock the car, or shall I begin walking home?" she asked, loudly enough to be heard over the traffic whizzing by. "I wouldn't mind, you know, it's a lovely evening. It's just that these pumps aren't the most comfortable things to wear, and I have quite a ways to go."

She looked down at her feet, then back at Henry, a wry grin appearing on her face.

"Ah, yes. Of course, of course. I'm so s-sorry, ma'am," came his eventual reply, stumbling over words as she pulled him from quiet rumination.

Henry's hand fumbled to locate the button to unlock all four doors, first pushing the window locks, receiving nothing but an audible 'click' and a glower from his aggravated client. Upon finding the correct button, he opened his door into traffic - regretfully so, as choice words were spoken by passing motorists informing him of his intelligence level - in an attempt to make his way to her side of the car to open the door.

"No, my dear. Stay where you're at," she spat, holding up a hand and halting his advance. "I'm capable of letting myself in. And the last thing I need is to fill out paperwork tomorrow morning regarding the untimely demise of my chauffeur."

Upon opening the door she looked him in the eye once again, then said, "Please, get in before you hurt yourself,"

With that, the bewitching brunette extended a long leg, stepped into the back seat, and vanished entirely.

Mouth agape, Henry sat back into the driver's seat, closed his door with a firm 'thud', and found himself returned to a familiar position behind the steering wheel. Though embarrassed, he was glad to be back in an air-conditioned vehicle, as the humid late-summer air was thick and his necktie felt suffocatingly tight.

Henry grabbed his tablet laying on the seat to the right, opened the driver's log app and checked his new passenger's destination. It was a suburb on the city's outskirts, beyond the bright lights and noise he'd become accustomed to. It would take a while to get there, as inevitable delays must be accounted for, but at least--

"Drive," she said assertively.

With a subtle nod of the head, he buckled his seatbelt, both hands instinctively gripping the leather-wrapped steering wheel, but not before looking in the rearview mirror at his attractive passenger. Regrettably, his gaze lingered a bit too long, and their eyes met for a third time. Henry quickly looked away, pretending to make minor adjustments to his seat, ultimately returning it to the same position. He heard a scoff from over his shoulder but chose not to look. His left hand found the turn signal stalk while the right shifted into gear, and with a firm yet steady push on the accelerator he was in motion, merging into traffic and heading to their destination.

***

"Feel free to turn on the radio," said the woman in the back seat, as she removed a hair tie and several bobby pins, allowing loose, honey-brown ringlets to tumble over her shoulders.

"Ah, I would, it's just that--"

"Don't bother explaining, silence may be the better option. It's been quite a long day,"

"Of course, ma'am," replied Henry, once again twisting the tuning knob of his car's stereo, receiving crackling static in return. "See? It's the buildings, they block the signal for the satellite radio. Now, I could always switch to the local stations, but I find the music to be..." his words trailed off at the sight of her unimpressed expression in the rearview mirror.

She was looking over her glasses, full lips pursed with visible aggravation. Well-defined cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes contributed to her comely appearance, but it was certainly a harsh, austere beauty that she possessed. That cold stare was a betrayal, cracking the veneer of an otherwise glamorous charm.

For several long minutes, few words had been exchanged. Henry resolved not to annoy his passenger any further, though he found it difficult not to speak a word, and more challenging still not to let his eyes wander to the rearview mirror, as she had an allure all her own. Traffic flowed steadily for a mile or two, but came to a bottleneck near the end of the financial district, substantially slowing their progress. Against better judgment, Henry decided to strike up a conversation, as the awkward silence had grown too much to bear. Perhaps he'd find common ground with this stern stranger, or at least hoped to, otherwise this would be a rather dull drive.

"I'm Henry, by the way," he said.

A sigh was returned to him from the back seat. "Hello, Henry. My name's Erica, although I'm sure you knew that already as you're my driver,"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, smiling, hoping his cheery tone would put her at ease and prompt her to open up. "But it's nice to officially meet you. So, that building where I picked you up, is that where you work?"

"Well, I certainly don't spend the majority of my day there for my own enjoyment,"

"Ah, yes, of course, that makes sense," He felt foolish for having asked the question.

The sultry brunette shifted her weight in the back seat, repositioning her body. By leaning her back against the door, Erica was able to swing both legs up to rest comfortably atop the leather seat, one crossed over the other, as one black pump dangled over the edge.

Henry maintained his hand position of ten and two, checking blind spots periodically for nearby vehicles attempting to merge into his lane. The sun dipped steadily lower into the western sky, lengthening shadows cast by surrounding vehicles as it fell, yet causing chrome trim to gleam with blinding intensity. The flow of traffic was stagnant, which unfortunately didn't appear to be changing anytime soon, as his fellow motorists crept forward at a snail's pace. At the moment, the cause for delay remained unknown. It might've been an accident, or more roadwork around the bend, though he couldn't say for sure. For now, he thought it best to relax somewhat and continue chatting.

When his eyes touched the rearview again, he noticed a pair of long, tanned legs resting on his back seat. His temperamental passenger was wearing sheer nylon stockings, and on her feet were a pair of black stiletto-heel, peep-toe pumps. Her ankles were crossed, one foot bobbing up and down as it dangled off the edge of the ivory leather, while the other rested on the seat itself.

Were it anyone else, he might've spoken up and asked politely to remove their footwear from the seat so as not to leave a stain - ivory leather in a black sedan looked posh, but was a pain to keep clean - however, in this instance he thought twice, deciding instead to keep quiet. His eyes lingered for a time, spellbound by the hypnotic rhythm of her stiletto-clad foot bobbing up and down; it was unintentionally seductive, and he was unsure if she'd chosen this particular seating arrangement for comfort, or amusement.

"Do you think we'll be moving anytime soon, Harry?" came her voice from behind, causing his eyes to dart back to the road.

Clearing his throat and refocusing his vision, he decided it was best to concentrate on what lay ahead, and for the moment avoid this pleasant distraction.

"Umm, it's Henry, ma'am," he replied, mustering the mental fortitude to look anywhere but the mirror.

"Right, of course it is. Well, Henry, do you think we'll be rolling anytime soon? We've been essentially motionless for god knows how long," Erica replied, scrolling through emails on her phone. "Didn't you know this street would be gridlocked at this hour of the day? My usual driver would've known better. Where is he, by the way?"

"Oh, well, I'm not sure exactly. I was simply told I'd be covering his run today, and picking up a few of his regular--"

"That's fine, say no more," she said, cutting short his words once again. "As long as you know left from right and how to press the accelerator, we'll get along fine."

Until now, Henry had been strongly considering closing the tinted privacy window that separates the front and rear seats. Some clients preferred to have it shut, the smoky glass allowing for phone calls and conversations of a private nature, while some simply preferred not to feel the obligation of chatting with their driver. To most, he was a means to an end; a service provided on behalf of corporations and businesses to shuttle important clients or packages from one section of town to another, nothing more. With the push of a button, his irritable passenger could have the privacy she seemed to so desperately want. But, after a long day he welcomed this visual stimulus. Even if she was a poor conversationalist - bordering on disrespect - he could handle it for a while longer if it meant watching those toned calves resting upon his seat, and those sexy jet-black heels fidgeting back and forth.

"Well, ma'am, I know all about long days," said Henry, slipping a finger under the collar of his dress shirt to loosen the knot on his wide, silk necktie. "These roads are like a maze, twisting this way and that, plus there's traffic to contend with. Well, you can imagine--"

"Yes, I can imagine what it's like to sit in an air-conditioned luxury sedan all day, following the direction of a satellite-linked navigation system. And swivelling one's head around to check blind spots must be terribly exhausting," said Erica curtly, while using the tip of her right shoe to pop off the heel of her left.

Henry's finger once again found the inner rim of his shirt's collar, pulling outward to alleviate his rising blood pressure while peering into the back seat. His eyes were glued to the nylon-clad heel of her left foot, which had been newly revealed as her ankle now rested upon the shin of her right leg.

"And, please," she continued. "Don't call me 'ma'am'."

"Oh, of course, ma'am--er, Erica. Not a problem,"

"Splendid, I'm glad we could have this talk," she said, idly flipping through various apps on the phone, focusing her attention away from her talkative driver.

Although traffic had begun to flow, Henry found himself captivated by the pump dangling from the big toe of her left foot. She flexed it gently up and down, causing the shoe to sway rhythmically as it teetered above the carpeted floor of the car. One small bump would send it careening downward and reveal what he longed to see in its entirety; it may have been the only time in his life he'd wished for a pothole to appear.

"Well, Erica," said Henry, both eyes fixed to the rearview still. "Just have patience and you'll be home in no time flat."

"Perfect, I look forward to--"

Her body suddenly lurched, rolling to the side as her weight was abruptly transferred toward the front of the vehicle. Bracing herself against the front seat with a well-timed placement of her right arm, Erica managed to absorb the impact. The sound of screeching tires filled her ears as their car came to a sudden halt.

"What in the hell was that all about?!" she shouted, brushing hair from her eyes and adjusting her glasses.

"H-He came outta nowhere!" responded Henry, shaken.

"Out of 'nowhere', are you serious?! I find it difficult to believe that you were unable to see the multitude of cars surrounding us!"

"I'm, s-sorry ma'am! I didn't mean to scare you," he sputtered, giving an apologetic wave to the driver of the white SUV he'd cut off. "It's just that I hadn't seen that guy trying to take the exit. I guess... I guess I was... distracted."

"You guess? What could've possibly distracted you?"

"I-I was looking in the rearview mirror at, well, it's not important..."

"I'm quite sure it is important, as I certainly don't want a repeat of that nonsense," she said indignantly while reaching a hand below the seat in search of her phone. "It's been an incredibly taxing day and I'd like to arrive home in one piece. Now, what were you looking at? Spit it out."

"Well, I was looking at your foot--ah, wait, that didn't come out right. What I meant to say is that you were dangling your shoe from your toe and it caught my eye, is all. Nothing major,"

"Well, which is it then? Was the cause of your distraction my feet, or my footwear?"

"Uh, both, I suppose. But it was a simple mistake, and I assure you it won't happen again,"

Erica's hand searched the crevice between seat and door, blindly feeling for the missing phone, yet unable to locate the device by touch alone. Withdrawing her arm and breathing deeply, it appeared to the flustered brunette that this would be a significantly longer drive home than she'd anticipated. However, if that was the case, who's to say she couldn't have some fun along the way?

Erica's black pump had indeed fallen off her foot, tumbling to the floor below when her absentminded driver nearly ran headlong into another vehicle. She was able to see the reflection of his eyes from her current position, and the small privacy window separating them allowed a limited view of his head. Her own eyes narrowed, studying him, watching his focus shift between the mirror and the road, repeating over and over as she flexed her long, nylon-encased toes methodically back and forth.

"Henry," she called. "Shall I place my shoe back on my foot and remove it from view? I'd hate to distract you, yet again."