Taxi to Paris

by Ruth Gogoll

  I buttoned my shirt and observed her. She had her arms crossed and stood there, legs apart, an unconquerable fortress. I went toward her. She followed my every move with her eyes, but she didn't stir. I stood in front of her and looked up. My God, she was at least 6'2"! "I don't want to be alone, and I don't want to go." I watched her, unshaken.

  Mockingly, she screwed up her mouth and looked at me. "Ah - the lady has developed a taste for it!" She laughed. It sounded rather lachrymose. She bent down a bit. "Until just now you didn't know, and you were irritated. Now you know and already -" she snapped her fingers - "it turns you on, right? Until now it was just a somewhat exotic adventure. Something outside of the ordinary, am I right? But now - what an opportunity! What's it like to sleep with a woman who does it for money? You'd like to know, right? Why shouldn't you try it, now that we're already here?" She turned away from me and unbuttoned her cuffs. Over her shoulder, she added, "I hope you have your checkbook with you. I'm quite expensive."

  With one jerk, she took off her shirt and tossed it on a chair. I saw her taut back and heard the scratching of her zipper. With a quick shake, she kicked off her boots, and her pants flew after her shirt. Now she was naked. With a crisp movement, she turned around and raised her arms for a moment. "There you are; I'm at your disposal."

  Finally, I had the opportunity to look at her again and to establish once more what I had noticed at first glance: she was unbelievably beautiful. I moved toward her and touched her. Her skin radiated the cold of a marble statue. "No." I shook my head. "No, I won't do it. I won't treat you like a whore just so you can get rid of me more easily." I backed up.

  "But sweetheart." She raised her eyebrows, as if to express her bemusement that I obviously didn't know the rules. "You're paying me. And I am a whore. Come -" she had put on a professional smile and came toward me. She reached behind my earlobe and stroked the sensitive spot under my earlobe with her thumb. I shut my eyes. "That's better," she cooed. I wanted to forget it. I wanted to give in to the sensation of her stroking hand. But I couldn't. I opened my eyes. She was still smiling professionally. "What would you like? You can tell me, even if it's unusual. I'll fulfill all of your wishes. You needn't have any inhibitions." She played it out like the opening credits to a movie. Suddenly, she smiled knowingly. She stopped stroking behind my ear and ran her hands down along my body until they rested on my buttocks. Then she knelt down. Only now did I realize what she had in mind. I'd been too busy with her show and my sensations. I pushed her head away.

  "Stop it!"

  She wiped the smile from her face, stood with an indifferent expression, and looked at me coldly. "Whatever. It's your money. If you'd rather, you can abuse me for it, too."

  I'd never before been in such an intimate situation with a woman who could switch herself off like that. She made me nervous. I wanted to know what she really felt. It enraged me how she took control of me in this way. And I'd never been able to conceal my anger. I blazed at her.

  Promptly, she turned her smile back on and tried to pacify me. "But there must be certain things that you've never dared to ask from a woman." She laid her hand behind my ear once again. It would've been a wonderfully tender gesture if she hadn't done it so mechanically. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the moment of quiet. She bent down and kissed me gently on the lips. I wanted to believe for a minute, to imagine that she saw in me the woman, the beloved - not just the customer, the client.

  While she kissed me carefully - yes, that was the right word: carefully! She forgot nothing important! - her right hand ran down my body. Her left slid under my shirt and played with my nipple until it was hard. It was such an automatic routine, it almost made me sick. She must've done exactly this at least a thousand times before!

  I wanted to push her away, but my hands landed right on her breasts. They were wonderfully soft. The velvet skin arched itself against my fingers. I began to stroke them. Instantly, she began to moan and pulled herself toward me. At first I was surprised, but then it occurred to me what she was doing. Regretting that I had to give up the velvety softness of her breasts, I pushed her away. She looked at me with clear eyes. No trace of arousal.

  "Didn't you like it?" she asked, professionally interested. I tried to hold her eyes, but she avoided me. She looked over my shoulder. "I'm sorry. I need some time to adjust myself to you. Most of my customers' demands aren't so ... eccentric."

  I couldn't help but smile. Her helplessness did more for me than the self assurance she'd displayed up until now. I looked at her with loving affection. "You're beautiful."

  Something flickered in her eyes, then she closed her face again. She asked coolly, "So why don't you want me then? You're paying for it. The others... Tell me what I should do. Or if I shouldn't do anything..." She opened her hand in a gesture of helplessness.

  An idea crept into my head. Under no circumstances did I wish to let myself fall into her game. But if she'd listen to me... She kept watching me, waiting coolly.

  "Lie down," I ordered, with as much authority as I could muster. Astonishment flashed briefly across her face and disappeared again immediately. She spun around and took a step. Then she stood still.

  "Where?" she asked flatly into the air. Her stiff back became even straighter.

  "On the bed," I decided.

  She set herself in motion. She strode gracefully to the bed. When she'd laid herself down, she stretched out her arms toward me. "Come," she said. She'd obviously decided to dispense with the professional expression. She looked honestly and deliberately indifferent.

  I crossed the room and stood next to the bed. "Not like that," I contradicted. "Roll over." She hesitated. I waited. Then she turned herself over onto her stomach slowly, with an odd sidelong glance at me. I admired the soft, curving line of her back. She was really a beautiful woman. What could have caused her to...? Well, that was a pointless thought. She'd have her reasons. My fingers tingled with the desire to touch her, but I only traced the outline of her body in the air. I bent down and kissed her between the shoulder blades. She jumped. "Don't you dare moan," I warned. "We already had the show."

  "The others like it now and then," she countered, shrugging, with her cool, indifferent voice.

  "But I don't. So let it be."

  I couldn't see her face, but I could've sworn she was smiling. "As I said before, you're somewhat ... eccentric."

  I kissed her again between the shoulder blades and noticed how she tensed up. She was trying to suppress the twitching. I smiled. That wasn't such a bad start. I began to cover her whole body with kisses. Slowly and tenderly, I wandered from her neck to her shoulders, then to her arms and back to her shoulder blades. My mouth glided along her ribcage and dawdled awhile in the hollow above her bottom. Although I took full advantage of this activity, I tried to observe her at the same time. At first, her hands lay next to her head. She seemed peaceful and relaxed. After the first kisses, she got goose bumps. She began to dig her hands into the pillow. Her knuckles became even tighter and whiter. As I came to her lower back, fine drops of sweat beaded up from her skin and shimmered, glistening like a fine rain. She breathed heavily, but buried her head in the pillow.

  Again, my fingers traced very lightly the path from her neck to her ass. She jumped at many places this time. Her breath became heavier. She couldn't get enough air through the pillow anymore; she lifted her head and turned it to the side. Gasping, she sucked in air.

  Although I believed her reactions were real, a little devil suddenly appeared on my shoulder. Perhaps the particular dynamics of this game I'd never played before had taken hold of my brain and knocked out my normally attentive control mechanisms. In any case, I didn't think any more about it. Against my better judgement, I reprimanded her: "Don't act for me - I warned you!" It was only supposed to be a joke. I was firmly convinced she'd notice that, but she stiffened immediately. She was still gasping. After a few gulps of air, she began to tremble. Her hands pushed slowly under her head. "Please don't," she whispered
flatly. Her voice was harsh with fear.

  What was wrong? I stroked her back soothingly. She drew back as if struck by a whip and pressed her hands more tightly against her head. "No," she whispered hoarsely, almost inaudibly. "Please don't hit me," she whimpered softly, to herself.

  For a moment, I was dumbstruck. This big, strong woman I'd been so afraid of! Then I overcame the shock. I grabbed her shoulder. She cried out in fear. I shook her violently. "Never - do you hear me? Never! I would never hit you! Look at me, please." She lowered her hands and laid her head to the side. Her eyes drooped. She was coming out of a nightmare. As soon as she recognized me, she turned her head away.

  "Please go now." She spoke to the wall. "You have no obligation to me whatsoever." She paused. "Of course, you don't have to pay." Her tone was bitter. "And of course I can't stop you from talking about this." She took a deep breath.

  At first I wanted to contradict her furiously. Then I controlled myself. That wouldn't do either of us any good. I grabbed the blanket and pulled it over her naked body. Surprised, she rolled onto her side and propped her head up on her hand. "Thank you," she said. Her voice was neutral. She let her glance glide over me coolly. "It would really be better if you left now."

  I sat carefully on the edge of the bed. "I don't think so." I really just contradicted her because everything had flown by me so quickly, and because I don't like to leave a theater without understanding the plot, but her reaction was violent.

  Her eyes narrowed to slits. They glistened like pure ice. "I see," she said, drawn out. "You're not one to be satisfied with half a cookie when someone's promised you the whole thing." With a swift motion, she grabbed me and pulled me onto the wide bed. "You'll get the other half. I always keep my promises. And now, since I've let you out of paying, it's even free." She laughed scornfully. "You'll never get a hooker as classy as I am this cheaply again."

  I granted her that. The desperation I felt in her made me helpless. I only hoped that she wouldn't hurt me too much: I'd never been very good at tolerating pain. And today, I'd already established that my ability to do so had not improved.

  She detected my fear. "Ah, now you're afraid?" She emphasized her words with a dismissive hand gesture. "I told you I keep all my promises, didn't I?" I nodded, so to avoid making her angry again. It seemed doubtful to me that I could guarantee such a promise in her condition.

  She grabbed my arm. I held back a cry of pain. That was going to leave a nice bruise. She pushed me backwards onto the bed and laid herself half across me. Ruthlessly, like at first, she penetrated my mouth with her tongue. But she only went as far as she'd promised, and she didn't hold my hands down. I lifted them slowly and ran them along her back. She moaned deep in her throat. Now I knew for sure that her reaction earlier had been genuine. I stroked her back some more, and she gasped even more heavily in my mouth. I noticed that she was definitely ready to lose control. But first, she abandoned my mouth. With a violent movement, she tore my legs apart. At least two more bruises!

  She let herself fall between my legs and lifted them up. She kept pushing them even farther apart and higher up. It hurt, but it was bearable.

  With the same severity that she'd shown in penetrating my mouth, she now entered between my legs. No foreplay, no preparation, not even a quick caress. Instead, the movements of her tongue were even heavier and more demanding. As she forced my legs even wider apart - my God, soon I'd have to scream in pain! - I clenched my teeth and waited for her to be satisfied with me. On its wild hunt, her tongue found the center of all sensation. I moaned aloud. Had it not been for the pain in my thighs, this might've felt rather nice. I sighed.

  She'd taken a brief recess and rested up. Then she began again, carefully, circling my clit with her tongue. She flew back and forth across it like a butterfly. I jumped every time. Gradually, my sensations grew more intense. Surely she'd stop soon. All she wanted was her own satisfaction, which I was to bring to her. As I began to lift my pelvis against her and to moan, she stopped. Ah, that was it. I tried to hold back my excitement. Suddenly, I cried out. She penetrated me deeply with her tongue, like no woman had done before. This long tongue, which had caused me so many problems in my mouth, brought me here only pure, ecstatic pleasure. She pushed back and forth, and in between played briefly behind the entrance. She really knew every spot! I suddenly didn't care that my legs hurt, that with every thrust of my hips I felt red-hot needles all the way down to my tiptoes.

  "Come," she murmured, barely audibly, between my thighs. She thrust the full length of her tongue into me once more. Then, she pulled it out and resumed her butterfly dance against the erect pearl. "Come," she whispered again, demanding. I exploded in long, raging waves. I heard myself screaming, but it was as if the cry would not stop while the waves came and went, came and went. I tried to count them, but there were too many. After an eternity, I collapsed and struggled, exhausted, for breath. I'd never be able to breathe normally again! She came up and nipped at my breasts. I still hadn't caught my breath when she propped herself up next to my shoulders and pushed her legs between mine. After they'd been ripped apart like that, everything hurt. I groaned in pain before I could stop myself. Immediately, she lay quietly. I raised a hand and brushed the sweaty hair from her forehead. She gave me a strained smile.

  "Go on," I said softly. "You're not hurting me."

  "I'm not, really?" she asked, confused.

  "No." I brushed the hair tenderly from her face once more. "You really aren't."

  She began to move again, carefully. Then she began to speed up. After a short while, she was again gasping with excitement. I could feel all of her muscles straining. I felt a vibration between my legs. She came in quick thrusts, moaning. Her eyes were closed. I thrust my hand between her legs. When she noticed that, her eyes flew open. "I don't want to..."

  "Yes, you do." With my other hand, I held her tightly against me. It didn't take much, in any case, to change her mind. She began to moan as soon as I touched her. I entered her carefully. "Yes." A primitive sound forced its way from her throat. She bucked against my hand as if she wanted to take the whole thing into her. She stiffened. A small cry left her lips. Completely exhausted, she let herself fall back onto the bed and rolled out from under me. Still breathing heavily, she lay next to me.

  "That was ... not ... necessary," she managed raggedly. I propped myself up on my elbow and smiled at her. "Yes, it was. And actually, I believe you need some more yet."

  She pressed her lips together and shook her head. It had been a long time since she'd been so free of resistance. I slid on top of her quickly. She protested weakly. She tried to hold her legs together, but she hadn't yet regained her strength. With both hands, I pushed them apart and laid myself between them.

  She was as beautiful down there as she was as a whole. I said so loudly enough that she could hear me. "Get back up here right now!" she hissed in answer.

  "Not a chance!" I laughed at her irritation. Slowly, I began to sweep a wide circle with my tongue. She sighed, and I noticed her thighs tightening. I twirled the circle smaller and tighter. She chased my tongue with her hips. "You're driving me crazy," she whispered, so softly that I could barely understand her. I continued. She dug her hands into my hair and held on. "I can't take any more ... please." I didn't let her out of my mouth. "I can't stand it anymore! Please . . . let me..." Her voice was hoarse and demanding as it reached down to me. I took all of her into me and let her find her own rhythm. This time, she came with a long, steady scream and innumerable twitches. When her orgasm had ebbed, she lay as if dead. I slid on top of her and kissed her. She was covered in sweat.

  When she could speak again, she smiled easily. "Whatever did you do?"

  "I? Do? Not a thing." The innocence of a country girl was nothing compared to me.

  She laughed, amused. "That's not at all what it felt like."

  She groped at the nightstand and pulled a long, narrow cigarette from its long, narrow package. She lit it with a bea
utifully decorated silver lighter and took a deep drag. Cliché at its purest.

  She looked at me. "Oh, pardon me, would you like one also?" Her hand wandered back to the nightstand.

  "No, thank you," I pouted. "I hate to get lost in a cloud of smoke right afterwards."

  "I usually don't either, right afterwards. But today ... it's your own fault. If you hadn't worn me out like that..." She reached one hand tenderly under one of my breasts, leaned over, and kissed it. "Mmm," she hummed appreciatively. "Sweet as champagne." She looked at me again, closely. "Like the rest of you," she said then. She leaned back onto her pillow and smoked.

  So she had decided, at least for the moment, to like me - or perhaps just to tolerate me? I observed her from the side. She sat there, relaxed, an incredibly beautiful woman, holding her cigarette with an elegance I'd never imagined possible. The smoke circled up just as elegantly - as if it felt obligated by her manner to do so - toward the ceiling.

  She ignored me. At least, she acted as if I weren't there. What did she expect from me now? Our business relationship was clearly over. I scolded myself silently. I didn't want to think about it, but I had to. What should I do in this situation? Should I just leave? But that was exactly what I didn't want to do. I wanted to stay with her, I wanted to get to know her. She had touched me deeply. Her vulnerability, which she tried to hide behind miles of protective walls. Her fear, and that she had chosen this in particular as a career...

  I looked at her, searching. She crushed out her cigarette and looked over at me. When she noticed my expression, she twisted her mouth a bit.

  "Don't bother holding back."

  "From what?" I asked, somewhat irritated.

  She pulled the blanket up over herself and covered her breasts. "You want to know how and why I got here, what I am, right?" In another situation, those cold, flashing eyes would've driven me right out of the room. As she'd inflected it, it was really an obscene question that I'd never dare ask. I kept silent.