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The evening continues at a strip club.

I knew it by heart anyway.

Winter came, and it was all gray skies and tall boots and snow like a blanket over the city. A meeting ran late, and my boss insisted on calling me a cab so I wouldn't have to wait for a bus in the cold. I hopped into the taxi, told the driver my home address and looked out the window at the falling snow. We rode in silence for a long time and then he spoke.

"I am sorry," the driver said.

"Excuse me?" I asked, startled out of my daydream.

"I am sorry. That was not me. I should have stopped it."

I saw brown eyes in the rearview mirror, eyes I had never really looked into that night. The driver. He was so young. I hadn't realized he was so young.

"I think about you every day," he says.

"I do, too."

"I'm Khaled. What is your name?"

I don't say anything. I'm pinned in place by his eyes and the memory of him sliding and then crashing into me, following your commands. I send a text home - "Meeting went great but I need to stay late and strategize. I might crash at the office if it gets too late. Love you."

Khaled's apartment is up 3 flights of stairs. He's been a gentleman and let me go first, but I don't know the way, so I keep stopping and waiting for him to point me in the right direction. He walks close behind me, I can feel his warmth right there, and when I stop on the last flight he puts his hands gently on my hips and leans in close to me to kiss the back of my neck. I turn and kiss him on the mouth, urgently, with teeth.

The key takes forever in the lock. Inside his place we fumble out of wet coats and heavy boots and then, after a beat, our other layers. We're suddenly shy; without you to direct us, we need a minute to remember what we're doing here. Then his hands are on me, arms, wrapping around me, hands cupping my ass, and we're kissing again in the entryway while the snow melts all around our bare feet. He lifts me and takes me to a sofa and in the lamplight I look at him, beautiful copper skin, a rich soft beard and hairy chest, and then, between his legs, that perfect thick penis with its bulging head and veiny shaft disappearing into a cloud of dark hair.

I want to go slow. I want to go fast. I want Khaled in my mouth, I want him everywhere, all at once. I want you to be watching. I don't know what to do but then it comes to me. I kneel on the couch facing the wall, my ass up in the air, my pussy open and ready. Khaled understands immediately, he's already behind me, his dick already rubbing against the opening, he's already working himself inside, bare and hungry.

We fuck on and off all night. There's a bedroom in the back and a low platform futon where he spreads me out and licks me until I'm almost screaming. Sometimes we sleep, wrapped around each other. One of us moves in our sleep and it wakes the other and then he's inside me again, no discussion, no negotiation, just him working himself inside me from wherever we collapsed last. When I'm on my back and he's above me, he pushes my legs up for a better angle and I can feel his balls pressing and rubbing against my open cunt and I want to swallow them inside me, too. I lie on my stomach and lift my ass up so he can lie on top of me and slide in again from behind. He traces a finger around my asshole and I come again from the pleasure of being filled and teased.

"Do you want to fuck me there?" I ask.

"Oh yes, but I want to fuck you here more, again and again, and I don't want to stop for stupid stuff like showers in between, at least not tonight."

"Don't cross the streams!" I say.

"Don't cross the streams," he agrees, laughing.

It's almost dawn when Khaled tells me the story. "I have driven him before," he says, meaning you. "He likes to meet women and then do things to them in my cab, with me watching. It excites them to be watched, in a way that they don't have to admit to later."

I don't want to ask how many times, but he anticipates this the way he does everything. "Eight. Eight and then you."

"And you, do you...with all of them?"

"No, not like that.

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