Passion Paradise

PASSION PARADISE

ONE

Sex! Sex is all she wanted! Sex is all she thought about! Sex is what she craved!

It was Friday night and Veronica was ready to paint the town red. She dressed in her favorite black satin dress that fell to her ankles, the one with the slit in the back. The dress seemed to taper all of her curves. Veronica had curves in all the right places. She had more curves than a woman with an hourglass figure.

 Her large plump breast bulged out as if they were two helium balloons filled with water. She gave Dolly Parton a run for her money. One year when she entered a wet T-shirt contest during the summer of 2014 in Nashville. Veronica won the contest against the Dolly Parton look-alike with Dolly Parton herself being the main judge. When the contest was over, Dolly Parton compared her breast with Veronica’s telling her to use everything she’s been given to get whatever she wants out of life. Veronica graciously accepted the trophy and donated the Two thousand dollar prize money to Dolly’s favorite charity.

 Veronica also had sex appeal. Sex appeal that most women in their mid-forties dreamt about or read about in a juicy romance novel that they tried on their husbands to spruce up their sex life when things became dull and ordinary from being married too long. Not that being married for several years was considered anything bad she thought. Veronica enjoyed spicy, hot, romantic sex and went after the men that gave her what she craved.

Veronica walked with poise, smiling her pearly whites at each person she greeted that past by her when she was downtown shopping, having her hair styled, and nails manicured. People she met throughout her day complemented her for being respectful and benevolent when she assisted the elderly when flagging down taxi cabs and carrying their groceries to their apartment. Veronica found joy in helping her neighbors, and making new friends each day. 

 She knew she looked hot especially when the men that worked up on the scaffold looked down when she walked below them. Veronica flipped her long red hair, batted her eyes, and swayed her buttocks as her stilettos clacked on the cement sidewalk. All the men that were on top of the scaffold whistled. Veronica would casually look up at them, give a slight wave of her hair and smile, never saying a word, and continue walking towards Park 5th Avenue.

Veronica looked closely into the mirror, seeing a strand of her lovely red hair draped across her left brow. She puckered her lips, throwing the mirror a kiss. “You look gorgeous, babe,” she told her reflection, and placed a bag of makeup that was on the shelf behind her onto the sink counter.

She continued getting ready for the nightclub, applying mascara to her long lashes. She smoothed over a thick, rich layer of red lipstick, complimenting with a thin black line around her lips so they will stand out better when she's in the club, under the many colored lights. Next was black eyeliner. A soft layer of powder over the light colored foundation to protect her sensitive skin was enough.

Veronica stepped a foot back away from the mirror getting one last look at herself.  With her long bright red hair, cascading below her shoulders, she felt confident, she was sure to be laid tonight.

“Stunning! Absolutely stunning!” she said, turning to the side so she can see a profile of her slender figure. “Mark will eat his heart-out tonight!”

It was half-past eight. Veronica grabbed her cell phone that she placed on the small round table in the entry of her apartment last night, and dialed for a cab. For a Friday night in New York, City, she wasn’t sure that tonight was such a good idea calling a cab or even going out to the club. She placed a few essentials into her purse and a few toys that she might need for later and rushed out the door.

 She walked outside just in time when an empty yellow cab zoomed around the corner from her apartment building. She flagged the cab driver down, and by the way she looked, he didn’t hesitate and pulled right over to the curb.

“Where to, miss?” he said, in a deep, strong Bronx accent with a voice like he’s been smoking since he was born. She stepped to the cab and opened the door, sliding her tight ass across the smooth service of the seat.

“Club Blue,” she replied as if this was normal for her to say. The cab driver peeled away from the curb as if a fire was just around the bend. “No need to hurry. I’d like to get there in one piece,” she added, pulling out a More cigarette from her purse. “Got a light?” The cab driver took the Zippo lighter he kept in the snack tray and handed it to her.

“Club Blue, I’ve been there many times,” he replied, smiling, looking into the rear-view mirror. “I don’t go there so much anymore though. Don’t have time,” he rambled, keeping an eye on her in the rear view mirror. “I work at the shipyard during the day. Barely have time to take a shower, grab a sandwich, and get to my next job driving this cab all night.”

“Married? Have a family?” she asked, cordially. Small puffs of smoke came from the end of her cigarette. She sat with her legs crossed, not to reveal too much. Too much, at least for now.

“No, not married and thank the good Lord I don’t have any rug rats running around. My God, I don’t know what I’d do with kids. Don’t understand them myself. I grew up with seven brothers, and four sisters. Don’t know how my parents ever managed, not on my father’s salary,” he continued to ramble on, but Veronica did not seem to mind. She smiled at his verbose story about his family.

“That was quite a herd that your mother raised,” she replied, politely, nearly halfway finished smoking the cigarette. “I have three brothers and one sister myself. We only see each other during Christmas.”

 Out of nowhere, a dog ran out into the middle of the intersection. The cab driver slammed on the brake, lunging Veronica halfway over the front seat.

“Sorry about that, miss. I’m a good driver,” he said, apologetic. “It’s not too often a dog darts out of nowhere.” She smiled and sat back on the seat. The cab driver pulled out a brown bandana from the glove box and wiped his brow.  

“No harm done, but my cigarette dropped on the floor when I lunged forward, burning a mark in the carpet I’m afraid.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a fifty, handing it to the driver. “Here, will this cover the damage?”

He turned around to face her, folded her hand back with the money lying in her palm.

“No, you keep it. It’s an old cab and paid for. Besides, it was an accident. No fault on your part.” He couldn’t resist the temptation any longer and looked over her form. Her breast were pushed up firmly like a youthful teenager, her hair perfectly draped down below her shoulders caused him to get a hard on. A firm hard on he hasn’t had in over six months.

She smiled to one side, pulled out the pack of Mores from her purse, and held the package outward.

“Cigarette?” she softly asked. The cab driver reached for the pack, pulled one out. He lit her cigarette and then his. When a car pulled behind the cab and blared on their horn, the cab driver flipped the car his middle finger out the window and yelled obscenities to him.

“Sorry about that. I had forgotten I was stopped in the middle of the street,” he said, and drove the cab down to the next block, right into a parking lot where a liquor store was. He glanced at his watch. Nearly twenty minutes had passed from the time he picked her up and didn’t even know her name.

“I have to apologize,” he continued. “Time has escaped me. It never takes me this long to take a passenger anywhere, unless there’s traffic.”

 Veronica shrugged. “I am not in any hurry. Not tonight anyway.”

“You’re very understanding, miss. Most people would be throwing a fit, threatening my life by now if I hadn't dropped them off at their location.” And for a brief moment, silence filled the emptiness of the cab. Veronica looked out the mud splattered window from today’s rain and watched the clerk inside the liquor store putting whiskey bottles on the shelf behind the counter.

When she felt the vibration of her cell phone coming from inside her purse she placed on her lap moments ago, she had a feeling it was only one person. Mark Porter. Her on again, off again boyfriend from Washington D.C. She met him frequently whenever he’d fly into town just to get away from the political endeavor. She dressed especially for him, wearing his favorite dress, scented perfume that he bought in February for her birthday, and the crotchless panties she put on, all for him.

“Hello,” she said softy, and sensual. “What? You’re running late. All right then. I’ll be sitting at the table in our usual spot in the back room.” She put the cell phone back in her purse and looked up, meeting the cab drivers' green eyes.

Seeing the frustration on her face, he thought of an idea.

“Look, I’ve had a busy week and don’t feel much for driving the rest of the night. What do you say I get a bottle of Bacardi, some Coke and head back to my place? We’ll pick up a pizza along the way. There’s a great place just a block from here.” He sounded hopeful as though someone that looked as hot as his customer would be willing to go for a cheesy pickup line as the one he just delivered.

Veronica bent her head to the side, puffed hard on the cigarette allowing the smoke to escape through her lips gradually.

“Sounds good, but pizza? I can’t remember the last time I ate pizza,” she replied.

“Forget I mentioned pizza. I’ll take you to this wonderful Bistro, not more than five blocks from here. I have a nice dress shirt I keep folded nicely in the trunk for nights as this one.”

She thought a moment and smiled.

“Sure, why not, but I don’t even know your name.”

“Forgive my manners,” he said, flinging the finished cigarette out the window. “My name is Humphrey, Andrew West, and yours, miss?”

“Humphrey, as in the actor?” she questioned graciously. He nodded, throwing his hands up and smiled.

“My mother loved Humphrey Bogart. She saw all of his movies. Whatcha gonna do?”

“True,” she replied. “My name is Veronica. Veronica Hillary Collins.”

“Well Veronica, how about that dinner? I haven’t eaten all day and my stomach is fighting with me.”

“Sure, Humphrey. Dinner sounds real nice.” She smiled in delight, not like her usual temptress smile that she gives to attractive men that she’s just met.

Humphrey pulled out of the parking lot forgetting all about buying rum and Coke, and drove off towards the Bistro he mentioned.