Mickie and Laurie Pt. 14

Trigger warning: this segment of the story contains a plot element that some readers may find disturbing. Please exercise caution when choosing whether to read it.

Up to this point, my day had gone well, but here it took a turn. In the reception area, I booked an Uber ride to go home, and found that one was nearby and would be able to pick me up in just a few minutes. I walked out to meet it. As the white SUV drove up, something seemed familiar about it. Then the driver put down his window, and I recognized him as the guy who had driven my home from Candy's hair salon. I had found him to be a little bit more familiar than I had liked. Again he was wearing his ball cap, and he recognized me as well.

"Going to see Lawrence again?" he asked, smirking slightly. I considered cancelling, but I worried what that might do to my rating, so I just shrugged and got into the back seat.

"You look nice," he told me. I thanked him in a neutral way, and tried to make it clear that I was not in a talkative mood. Nonetheless, he continued to pepper me with questions, which I tried to deflect or give noncommittal answers to. I checked my app to make sure I remembered his name: Drew. I would need to try to avoid him in the future.

Eventually, Drew got tired of trying to get me to engage, so he switched gears and started telling me about himself. He mentioned that he just did Uber as a side-gig, and his main hustle was construction. I was not so sure about that--he struck me as a full-time Uber guy, who did not have the physical demeanor of someone who worked in construction. He told me he had just gotten divorced, and that his wife had taken him to the cleaners. That I could believe. However, I worried that he was telling me this to signal that he was available. Finally, he mentioned that he was thinking of moving to the part of town that Lawrence lived in, and he wondered if I had any opinions on it. I said that it seemed very nice, and was quiet. He asked if I was there often, and I said yes.

At this point we had pulled up to my house, and I thanked Drew and got out. I debated giving him a low rating, but decided not to provoke him. However, I gave him a lower tip than I had before. I didn't care--I would never see him again.

As he pulled away, I walked to the door and fished out my keys. I went inside and plopped on the couch. It had been a long day, and it wasn't even lunchtime. I had not slept well the night before due to anxiety about the appointment, so I stretched out, closed my eyes, and put a pillow under my head. I dozed for a while, then woke up when I heard the front door open. I assumed it was Mickie, and said, "Hi babe."

I heard footsteps, and something sounded off about them. This was not Mickie. I sat up on the couch, and was shocked to see Drew the Uber driver walk into the living room. I realized that I must have forgotten to lock the front door. I jumped up, but before I could reach for my phone, he strode over to me and punched me in the stomach, causing me to double over with pain and nausea. He grabbed the purse that was sitting on the coffee table, then pushed me so that I sat back down on the couch.

He stood there fishing my wallet out of the purse, and said, "I wonder where Lawrence is. I looked in all the windows, and it looks like you have the place to yourself. Is that right?"

I didn't answer. My mind was racing. What was this guy up to. Was he going to rob me? Something worse?

Drew had found my ID cards, and I saw comprehension bloom on his face. "Well, well!" he cried. "We've found Lawrence after all." He was looking at me triumphantly. Then he pulled out the cash in my wallet and jammed it in his pocket, and told me to stand up.

"You have my money," I said. "Now you should go."

I noticed something in my peripheral vision, then pain exploded across my cheek and jaw. Drew had slapped me hard, making me see stars and causing my head to whip to the side, and I spun sideways with it.

"You...don't tell me what to do," he said. "I'm going to tell YOU what to do. And the first thing is, shut your mouth unless I ask you something. Understand?"

I nodded, involuntary tears leaking out of my eyes from the slap. Now I was really scared that this guy was going to hurt me.

"I took the cash because you shorted me on my tip," he continued. This struck me as preposterous. For a ride of that length, a tip of three to five dollars would have been generous. He had removed more than sixty dollars from my wallet.

"But the way I see it, you still owe me," he said. "Because I had to come back here, I'm not making any money on fares. So how will you pay me back?"

I didn't answer, so he hauled off and slapped me again, on the other side of my face. I cried out from pain and fright, and the tears began again. "I asked you a question, bitch," he hissed.

"I don't know!" I answered.

"Well, I do," he replied. Then he walked over to our kitchen and took a large carving knife out of the block. An icy feeling settled in my gut. I was in deep trouble.

He walked back to me and said, "You're going to suck my dick. And if you do a good job, maybe we'll call it even and that'll be the end of it. OK?" Then he put the flat of the knife blade against my cheek, causing me to shiver with fear.

I nodded, too scared to speak. Drew undid his pants and pushed them down, along with the boxers he had on underneath. I saw that his penis was already erect and straining out towards me. It looked to be average sized, maybe six inches in length. Clearly he was turned on by coming into my house and terrorizing me.

"Get over here and kneel," he commanded. I did as he told me, and knelt in front of him, looking up.

"What are you waiting for?" he barked. "Get to work."

I'm not going to describe what happened, except to say that it did happen. I used all that I had learned with Mickie and Jamal, and brought him to completion. Then he made me swallow everything in my mouth.

"Good girl!" Drew said. "Now stay where you are." He walked to the kitchen and got a glass which he filled with water, and a paper towel. Then he walked back to me.

"Drink half of this he said, handing me the glass. I did as he said and then put down the glass. He took the paper towel and wiped my chin, then dipped a corner of it in the water and dabbed at the droplet of cum that had dripped onto my blouse. After a minute, he gave up and told me to take off my blouse. Now I was even more worried. I unbuttoned it and slid it off, leaving just the bra. He held out his hand and I gave it to him. In return, he handed me back the glass and ordered me to take some more water and swish it in my mouth, then swallow it. I did this, then did it again when he told me to repeat. Now the water was gone. I was still kneeling on the floor, and he was still standing over me with the knife.

"All the cum is in your stomach now, and it will be down your digestive tract before long," Drew said. "And I'm going to take this cute little blouse with me. You know what that means?" I shook my head no.

"It means that there's no physical proof that I made you blow me," he said. "Also, if you call the police on me, I'm going to come back here and cut up that pretty face." He ran the tip of the knife lightly down my cheek, causing me to cry out in surprise and fear. "And then you can forget about passing as a woman."

"And just to be sure...," he took the paper towel and wiped down the water glass and then the knife handle, then set both on the counter.

"See you around, Lawrence," Drew said, emphasizing my name, and walked out the front door, leaving me still kneeling on my living room floor.

I collapsed once I heard the door close. I had just been robbed and sexually assaulted. And there was probably nothing I could do about it. If I went to the cops, there would be all kinds of problems with my gender confusion situation, as well as the absence of any evidence that Drew had done anything. He was right that the cum in my stomach would be digested before my stomach could be pumped, and how could I prove that he took my cash? The only connection I had was the Uber ride, and that was circumstantial. Plus there was his threat to come back.

He had identified me as someone who was vulnerable, and had acted on an opportunity. Would he strike again? I couldn't know for sure, but I doubted it. In any case I would need to be on alert. But should I tell Mickie what happened? I had no idea. I was receiving a crash course in the kinds of nightmares women go through as they just try to live their lives.