Message-ID: <41057asstr$1046214603@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: "Sean Farragher" X-Original-Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Priority: 3 (Normal) X-MSMail-Priority: Normal Importance: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2800.1106 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Tue, 25 Feb 2003 10:34:21 -0500 Subject: {ASSM} FW: TxM6: Taxi Murders the Novel Chapter 114 and 115 Henry and Laurie Again Date: Tue, 25 Feb 2003 18:10:03 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, newsman If you have missed any parts of Taxi Murders the Novel, they are archived on ASSM -Google and at my web site. I welcome feedback in email. sfarragher@nj.rr.com Chapters 1-115 are available at my site. Updates will be posted at least weekly. Thanks, Sean http://www.seanfarragher.com/taximurdersbook TxM6: Taxi Murders the Novel -- Chapter 114 & 115 (c) 2003 Sean Farragher sfarragher@nj.rr.com http://www.seanfarragher.com http://www.seanfarragher.com/Joss http://www.seanfarragher.com/taximurdersbook TxM6: Taxi Murders the Novel -- Chapters 114 -- Henry & Laurie Again Chapter 114 Friday, March 13 1987 During the first half of the forty-five minutes back to Fort Lee, Laurie shifted constantly in mood and conversation. A lot would be said in a very short time. It was as if the scenes had played out on videotape with the fast-forward on. When Henry drove a cab, his belly hugged the steering wheel. Laurie broke the silence by asking him why he sat so close. Henry told her he liked the to feel contained, and before he finished she asked, "Do you press hard against everything. Am I too soft for you or too hard," opening her jacket showing him the shapes of her breasts under the silk blouse. "I like it snug," Henry replied. "I like to feel my back pressed against the seat or" Laurie stared at Henry's cock. It would have been obvious to anyone. Henry didn't think her flirtation didn't seem motivated. Henry said nothing. "What is it, too hard or soft," she repeated. "What did you say," Henry mocked. "I am hard and you know it." "Am I too soft or two hard," Laurie repeated the question three times more. "You got to be kidding," Henry smirked, after the last repeat. "You heard me," Laurie moved closer to Henry. Teasing him, letting her hair down, letting it swirl, Laurie moved back to sit closer to the passenger side door when Henry continued to ignore her invitation. During the trip, Laurie moved noticeably from the middle of the bench like front seat to the door at least four times by Henry's count. Henry said nothing. "You had your chance Mister," Laurie mocked pretending to pout, finally crossing her arms and again looking back at Henry, she reached over and rested her hand on Henry's upper thigh, noting that he jumped when she did it. When they both laughed, She used his leg to pull herself back next to Henry and at the last moment she reached for his cock almost causing him to lose control of the cab when he grabbed it hard wanting to feel that hard living thing in her had at last. "FUCK, Watch out, shit. God, you must be nuts," he screamed trying to push her hand away. "Careful, I will make you let me blow you while you drive," she threatened. "Henry Laughed. You think so. Why? What a cunt you are," Henry couldn't stop laughing. "You're fucking jailbait," Henry teased. "What the fuck do you want, Miss"? "A cab ride, driver," Laurie hit back underlining the word "Driver", adding that affected tone. "By the way, I am hardly jailbait. In fact, I am 22 almost." Henry laughed at her. "I'm 45. To me you're fucken problems." "Hey, where do you want to go to in the city," Henry asked? Laurie kept her hand in Henry's lap rubbing his cock as he moved with her hand slightly. "It's Ok, Laurie added, when she touched the head of his cock, "you can come in your pants. Then without any change in tone, "Take me to the park first. It's important." "Hey, for the money and hands you have I could take you to AC for that matter," Henry tried to not respond but was losing it. What the fuck is AC," she asked? "Atlantic City, sweets," Henry gasped pushing her hand away before he came. "Sure, let's go. I know a pimp there I would like to fuck up like he fucked me up when I was 16. Better not. We both might have to do time on that one. Just take me to the park. "Call me an eccentric cunt as I heard you say once describing one of your better fares to Aaron. You see, Mr., I know you better than you know me." "With that better you than me," Laurie removed her hand from Henry's lap, and said smiling, "felt too good. Now, you wonder if there is more". Well, no sir, not for you, Mr. Henry was too spaced by the sex to really laugh, but he tried, and Laurie laughed with him, putting her hands on his face. Henry wondered how the fuck he kept the shitten car on the road. As there laughter got louder, Henry got more comfortable putting his hand under her skirt, wanting to return the favor, and shocked, discovered she had nothing on underneath and was cleanly shaven. Years later, remembering this drive to the park, Henry wondered why at that moment he remembered their first almost innocent sex. ##### Chapter 115 Sometime in late 1983 Laurie Fallon, Artist and Nude Model One Friday night, after work, and before their usual party, Henry and his current girlfriend, Johanna, had walked into Aaron's office above his elaborate studio, kissed Angela and hugged Aaron. Laurie walked out wearing a loose pink well-worn robe. Modeling for Angela, she came back from a pee break as she described it. Dressed in a robe, mostly undone, Henry saw the slight curves of her breasts, and the thick left nipple that suddenly rose up when she walked up to him kissing him on the cheek. Laurie made no pretense at modesty, but she smiled when she saw the almost surprised look on his Henry's face. Henry thought, no. This lady will drive you nuts. As things exchanged pleasantries and just before Laurie returned to model for Angela, she removed the robe and Henry startled by the clean lines of her ass and her delicate skin, revealed his reaction, with a simply understated, "oh my." Hearing that, she turned, running up to Henry, she kissed him hard on the lips shocking Henry's then girl friend. She was terribly upset with Henry but didn't publicly show it. Obviously, Henry didn't care. Henry remembered that he didn't like the taste of her cigarette, but he liked the push of her tongue. I was half drunk, Henry thought. I wanted more, he remembered later, but sometimes things don't really work out and besides what the fuck would I have done with Johanna. Laurie shuffled her hands, opening one, to reveal a sketch Angela had made of her. Henry hesitated, smiled. Angela had drawn Laurie, sitting, legs apart, arms resting on knees looking at the viewer as if she were looking into a camera. I had just come, she whispered in Henry's ear, Knowing Angela, Henry nodded, believing Laurie, not that he had any reason to doubt her. Henry knew what Laurie wanted. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to get involved again with a young drug addict model who he knew fucked for Coke, or had assumed. Henry didn't do coke, and he generally didn't trust anyone who did-especially beautiful women with expensive tastes. These babes loved the coke not you, and when you did not get it for them, or drive them free, risking your job, they hustled, did what they had to do. It was no win. Laurie was exceptional. She proved the rule. She was much more than sexy or beautiful, wanton or a street slut. Neither hard, soft, nor a talking head, Laurie was mysterious, unknowable and articulate. Henry believed she would become a better poet than Henry. Potential is hard to measure, but Henry sensed and it pleased him. Henry thought that odd at first, but then he realized their connection was greater than poetry, sex or for that matter the more usual forms of love. They were, as he said, selfish for each other. Simple sentence. Complex implications. Like my poems, Henry laughed at himself and the thought. Henry loved intrigue; he needed it, and when Laurie opened her lips slightly, parting them, Henry kissed her as if she were the source of life, allowing his tongue to quickly accept her mouth and smile pressed back against his face as if they had one face, and the division of person that was essential for sex was absent. Henry knew Laurie in that instant when she did his own body. He was inside her skin, breathing her breath. She was his hands and their shared beautiful face. Henry walked outside Aaron's that night. His date was sitting in the car waiting. She had seen that last scene, Henry was sure. He drove her home. They said only a brief good-bye. When he left the Johanna's driveway, he wondered if he could find Laurie. No, he said, fuck it. If I found her, I would be as lost as her. One kiss was not enough, but Henry looking at himself in the mirror later, seeing the slight droop of his eyes, knew he had kisses love, and felt himself more than fortunate. Why push it, he thought. Henry didn't know that Laurie at that precise time He looked in the mirror was home, making herself come, imagining the kiss and this man, this poet she had loved for longer than he would probably ever know. Laurie's True and First Confession Some time in 1979 I was fourteen. I remember him from long ago. He didn't remember me. I read his poems in class when he was the soon to be famous poet. I was hardly a child in 1979. Henry taught and read at City College. My English class heard the reading. My teacher knew Henry. She had been Henry's student. Later, Henry would visit our school for a month as he put it a Johnny Appleseed for poetry whatever the fuck that was. I remembered thinking that was a silly phrase, the first time I heard it. I loved every word he spoke. I wanted him. I met him. I tried to fix him up with my mother. She would have fucked him. He festered in my skin when he taught. I was wet after every class. Years later, long after meeting him after I got lost in drugs, I imagined him as my good father. Of course, I wanted to fuck him. Drugs and pimps used me but I never forgot the poet. He became more than the man. Poetry kept me sane. I remember he said that one-day in class. I agreed. Later, I wrote poems imagining he read them. I knew I would be his someday. I insisted. I always fuck my fathers. I wanted sex with him so bad I made myself come hundreds of times thinking of him just kissing my tits. 1983 Again Remembering this Laurie came one last time, and actually felt Henry's mouth on hers and in the next instant, both lovers, far apart, were asleep together in their separate beds, houses and lives. At least for now, Laurie smiled determined to find out what she needed to do to either forget him or own him. for More Txm6 Taxi Murders the Novel http://www.seanfarragher.com/taximurdersbook END -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+