Sex in New York
A week in New York
It was her first time in New York. Sheād been to the States with her parents before, to Washington DC, but this was different. Charlotte wanted to get away from home, from her suffocating parents (as she saw them), and sheād been offered a place at a prestigious university to study humanities. For her it was perfect, yet the butterflies in her stomach were swarming as she left the āplane and headed for the arrivals hall at JFK. Thank goodness there was someone there to meet her and help her settle into her new life.
It took half an hour to clear immigration, but soon she was exiting the airport pulling her suitcase behind. Her contact had arranged a meeting place near the taxi rank, and she scanned the throng of travellers fighting for transport. She assumed heād have a board with her name on it, but none was evident. She paused, then a voice behind asked āCharlotte Bates?ā. She turned and saw him. āPeter?ā. He smiled and nodded. āBut how did youā¦ā āI just looked for a beautiful young lady with shoulder length red hair and knew it must be you.ā She laughed, that personable giggle that swept men off their feet, and relaxed.
They walked round the corner - he knew a way of avoiding the queues for taxis - and ten minutes later were speeding along the freeway to Downtown, New York. She felt relieved it had all worked out, and was pleased that her father had asked Peter, a business acquaintance, to meet her. Sheād expected someone older and duller, but he seemed to be on her wavelength, and he was also a very nice looking man - taller than her, but slim and interesting. And she could see out of the corner of her eye that he was looking at her legs. She had worn a short skirt to be comfortable on the plane, maybe a bit too short as her father had said, but it was nice that he noticed.
Small talk. Half listening, she watched the grubby suburbs passing by as they approached Downtown. He leaned across her, pointing half left, āThereās the Chrysler building with the funny shaped top.ā and balanced himself by putting his hand flat on her upper leg, just below the skirt line. It rested there, and she thought she should brush it away. But she hesitated a moment and looked down. He made no attempt to move it. Perhaps she should cross her legs, but that might trap his hand between them. She hesitated too long, and he looked at her and smiled, moving it only a little so that his little finger caught beneath the hem. Her bare leg felt soft and smooth, and he slid his hand slowly higher until it was completely hidden. She looked up at the taxi driver, but he was concentrating on the busy traffic. She turned back and faced him, trying to read his thoughts.
He was too old, of course, her fatherās generation. She had never been able to think of Dad having sex, not even with her mother, but this man seemed different. There was a hint of fun in his eyes and smile. She should of course stop him right now, but she was rather depending on him to help her settle in her new surroundings and that made her pause. His finger touched her panties: she had to think which ones she had put on this morning, an age ago. Wasnāt it the white string, she couldnāt remember. But after all this time they would not be fresh and clean. And she knew that, as he touched them, they would be even more soiled. Then she remembered that she hadnāt shaved her pubes for over a week: her boyfriend had said that he wanted her to have a full bush when she came home for vacations, and she promised him. Just now it was merely a covering of soft stubble like a toothbrush. And it extended beyond her panties.
Peter had found it and ran a finger through it. āOh that is beautifulā he whispered, ālike the feathers on a duckling. Is it the same colour as the hair on your head?ā She nodded. It wasnāt exactly the same, but it was red and striking. With the stopping and starting of the taxi, she had slid down in the leather seat and her knees were sticking up. With his free hand he gently pushed one away from the other. She didnāt resist, even when they were wide apart. She glanced around. Any large vehicle coming alongside would be able to see in but there was none there. And now she noticed that the driver was sitting up in his seat, and each time the taxi stopped at lights he stared in the mirror. But no-one she knew would see her, a stranger in this city. Half of his hand was inside her panties, and his little finger was caressing her clitoris. She felt the moistness in her hair. His finger slipped, almost without effort, deep inside her and touched the edges. She whispered one word, āfuckā , not wishing to startle or change the geography.
She looked sideways. A large van had pulled alongside at the traffic lights, and a big bearded man stared down at them, grinning from ear to ear. She didnāt care. The lights changed and the taxi turned left and stopped. Peter withdrew his hand, and she straightened her skirt. āWeāre hereā he said, pointing at the brownstone apartment block. āYouāre going to be staying on the fourth floor for now. Would you like me to carry your case up for you?ā The taxi driver smiled.
It was her first time in New York. Sheād been to the States with her parents before, to Washington DC, but this was different. Charlotte wanted to get away from home, from her suffocating parents (as she saw them), and sheād been offered a place at a prestigious university to study humanities. For her it was perfect, yet the butterflies in her stomach were swarming as she left the āplane and headed for the arrivals hall at JFK. Thank goodness there was someone there to meet her and help her settle into her new life.
It took half an hour to clear immigration, but soon she was exiting the airport pulling her suitcase behind. Her contact had arranged a meeting place near the taxi rank, and she scanned the throng of travellers fighting for transport. She assumed heād have a board with her name on it, but none was evident. She paused, then a voice behind asked āCharlotte Bates?ā. She turned and saw him. āPeter?ā. He smiled and nodded. āBut how did youā¦ā āI just looked for a beautiful young lady with shoulder length red hair and knew it must be you.ā She laughed, that personable giggle that swept men off their feet, and relaxed.
They walked round the corner - he knew a way of avoiding the queues for taxis - and ten minutes later were speeding along the freeway to Downtown, New York. She felt relieved it had all worked out, and was pleased that her father had asked Peter, a business acquaintance, to meet her. Sheād expected someone older and duller, but he seemed to be on her wavelength, and he was also a very nice looking man - taller than her, but slim and interesting. And she could see out of the corner of her eye that he was looking at her legs. She had worn a short skirt to be comfortable on the plane, maybe a bit too short as her father had said, but it was nice that he noticed.
Small talk. Half listening, she watched the grubby suburbs passing by as they approached Downtown. He leaned across her, pointing half left, āThereās the Chrysler building with the funny shaped top.ā and balanced himself by putting his hand flat on her upper leg, just below the skirt line. It rested there, and she thought she should brush it away. But she hesitated a moment and looked down. He made no attempt to move it. Perhaps she should cross her legs, but that might trap his hand between them. She hesitated too long, and he looked at her and smiled, moving it only a little so that his little finger caught beneath the hem. Her bare leg felt soft and smooth, and he slid his hand slowly higher until it was completely hidden. She looked up at the taxi driver, but he was concentrating on the busy traffic. She turned back and faced him, trying to read his thoughts.
He was too old, of course, her fatherās generation. She had never been able to think of Dad having sex, not even with her mother, but this man seemed different. There was a hint of fun in his eyes and smile. She should of course stop him right now, but she was rather depending on him to help her settle in her new surroundings and that made her pause. His finger touched her panties: she had to think which ones she had put on this morning, an age ago. Wasnāt it the white string, she couldnāt remember. But after all this time they would not be fresh and clean. And she knew that, as he touched them, they would be even more soiled. Then she remembered that she hadnāt shaved her pubes for over a week: her boyfriend had said that he wanted her to have a full bush when she came home for vacations, and she promised him. Just now it was merely a covering of soft stubble like a toothbrush. And it extended beyond her panties.
Peter had found it and ran a finger through it. āOh that is beautifulā he whispered, ālike the feathers on a duckling. Is it the same colour as the hair on your head?ā She nodded. It wasnāt exactly the same, but it was red and striking. With the stopping and starting of the taxi, she had slid down in the leather seat and her knees were sticking up. With his free hand he gently pushed one away from the other. She didnāt resist, even when they were wide apart. She glanced around. Any large vehicle coming alongside would be able to see in but there was none there. And now she noticed that the driver was sitting up in his seat, and each time the taxi stopped at lights he stared in the mirror. But no-one she knew would see her, a stranger in this city. Half of his hand was inside her panties, and his little finger was caressing her clitoris. She felt the moistness in her hair. His finger slipped, almost without effort, deep inside her and touched the edges. She whispered one word, āfuckā , not wishing to startle or change the geography.
She looked sideways. A large van had pulled alongside at the traffic lights, and a big bearded man stared down at them, grinning from ear to ear. She didnāt care. The lights changed and the taxi turned left and stopped. Peter withdrew his hand, and she straightened her skirt. āWeāre hereā he said, pointing at the brownstone apartment block. āYouāre going to be staying on the fourth floor for now. Would you like me to carry your case up for you?ā The taxi driver smiled.
2 years ago
