Memoirs of a Lady Ch. 10

Chapter 10: The Yellow Rows of Taxis

I awoke this morning feeling uneasy. My usual daily routines did nothing to steady the sudden jangle of nerves lying just beneath my composure. The warm weather of late summer had cooled, darkening as a storm stalled over the coast from northern Africa. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps it was the overcast skies.

As I have been writing these past months, depression, melancholy, passion and revelation had been some of my many companions in this review of my life's journey. But today the weather was steering me, taking me from my comfortable room to a dark, panicked time I had almost forgotten.

Something was there, barking at the edge of my memory when the teapot's song called me to the kitchen. As I searched through the teas in the cabinet, I tried to put my finger on what it was that was drawing me from this relaxed sojourn away from my travels and friends. It made me wonder about my self-imposed exile I had decided upon. An exile to confirm that I was still the "me" I had started out as, so many years ago at University.

Simple and silly as I see it now, the image jumped from my mind like the flash of a camera. When I selected a teacup from the cabinet and added the steaming water to the chamomile, a roll of distant thunder echoed against the house, shaking glasses and silverware gently. I reacted by looking up at the window and seeing tiny drops of water streak against the glass blown by gusts of wind and suddenly I was at another window, dreaming.

A rolling darkness pounded at me in waves. It felt thrilling, like something alive rubbing up against me. I felt as though I was flying low, moving through a world of wet green plants that clutched at me purposely, trying to make me let go and fall. A distant green horizon beckoned out of the darkness. My breath increased to a panting, raking down my throat. My body was alive with a dark, wet sensation, jumping at me, kicking me, bruising me. I held on for dear life to the mass of warmth beneath until…a slow relaxation urged me to let go, lean back and be free. I tilted my head back in the wind, smiling.

I opened my eyes. I couldn't see. Darkness presented itself. I sucked in my breath. My hands flew to my face. Soft. I pulled at the softness. A light near me blurred and danced. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. The low drone of the engines brought me back to reality. I was still on the plane. I raised the window shade and looked out into black night. Tiny droplets of moisture trailed wet paths across plastic blown by gusts of wind. It was raining outside.

I took the sleeping mask off my eyes and the pillow from around my neck, laying them on the arm of the chair. A light, wool blanket still covered me, keeping me warm from the chill of the air conditioning. I stretched my hands over my head, tightening my legs and pointing my toes. A cleansing breath woke my mind up, clearing the last vestiges of the green darkness.

Next to me, a man slept. His hands in his lap and his head tilted away afforded little of my usual opportunities of assessment that I received when presented with such scenarios. I had arrived early for the four o'clock departure and none of the other first-class passengers were present when I climbed the stairs to take my place. So, the sleeping man was a surprise.

Who was he? Where did he come from? Why was his light still on? This was a game I played with myself from time-to-time when I was waiting in lobbies or stations. Not much to go on. I looked him up and down, unclogging the corner of my mind where detective traits were stored. He had on bluejeans (Levis), black silk shirt (nice), shoes? No, they were off. White socks and not shoes, but cowboy boots on the floor. The wool blanket was bunched over his legs. He had dark hair, but little flecks of gray peppered his temples. The lines at the corners of his eyes testified to time spent outdoors. Forties…fifties? I looked at his physique. No real flab to speak of. Either he worked outside or spent all of his time at the gym. Interesting.

How long had I been lying next to this man?

Quietly, I opened the chair's arm and pulled the video monitor into its upright position. I clicked it on and immediately the graphic of our flight path appeared. We were somewhere just northeast of Nova Scotia, arcing southwards towards Lake Michigan. The clock was still synchronized to our departure time. It was now 8:30, morning in Holland. Four hours had past and still eight more to go to reach Mexico City.

I wondered if Dr. L was still asleep.

For the past week, I had been staying at the house of an old benefactor of mine, Dr. Ottmar Liedermann. He had called and asked me to assist him in playing host to several visiting technology companies with which he did business throughout the year. I gladly accepted, Dr. L was always generous, letting me come-and-go as I pleased. Time with him was more like a vacation than work.

The annual technological convention, IDC, was in Amsterdam and everyone "in the business" as he said, "was coming to my town. Please help me, Erica." How could I refuse such an honest plea?

Just last night, I had taken several of his guests out on the town. We went to Die Milchebar, dancing, drinking and carousing with half-dressed natives until late in the evening. After that, we walked to the red-light district and had fun just cruising the streets, viewing the flesh for rent in the windows along the canal. Around 2:30, someone suggested getting a meal and a fresh start, so I took a taxi back to my hotel near the park. As usual, I stopped at the front desk for messages, not expecting any, but there was one. A message from my assistant Suzette to call her immediately. It was marked "urgent."

I hurried to my room and got comfortable, throwing off my sweaty clothes and donning one of the hotel's fluffy white robes. I dialed the number and waited. The phone rang four times before a very weary Suzette answered, "Allo?"

"Suzette, wake up. It's me, Erica." I heard sheets rustling and bed springs creaking.

Through the window I could see trolleys stop and pick up passengers. That was one of the many wonderful things about Amsterdam, it was moving and alive twenty-four hours a day.

"Erica?" said the whisper that was Suzette.

"Yes, you left a message for me…marked urgent. I wouldn't have phoned at this time of night, but you said to call immediately." A long pause of silence ended with a stretch and a yawn.

"Please…just a moment." The phone settling on something wooden was followed by a loud thump. I think she fell out of the bed. I heard her footsteps walk away and then return. Pages flipped as she searched for something.

"I'm sorry, Erica. I will wake up in a moment," she said apologetically.

"It's okay. Do you have the message?" I wondered what made this call so urgent. Was it a relative in trouble? A friend in need?

"Yes, yes, here it is…A Señor Alamondro called earlier today. He says that you must call him immediately." She read the words, but it took a moment for me to realize their significance.

I could feel the blood drain from my face. At last, I thought. It was for a friend.

"He says that the judge has set a date for the review, but that you must record your testimony in the presence of an officer of the court or it will not be accepted as evidence. Does this make sense to you, Erica?"

"Yes, yes…go on. Do you have the date?" I loved Suzette, but sometimes her skills as my assistant really tasked my patience.

"Yes, uhm…it's next Friday in Cabo San Lucas," she said very matter-of-factly.

Oh my God, I thought, I have to leave now. My mind raced ahead. How would I get out of the city? Would Dr. L be disappointed in me? What should I pack?

"Okay…okay…take this down." I had things to settle and take care of, too many for the time remaining.

"All right…wait, let me get a pencil," she said sleepily. "Okay, go."

I felt a tremendous sense of urgency, pulling at me. I started pacing.

"I will leave tonight from Amsterdam. I'll get a KLM flight out of here to Mexico. Call Señor Alamondro's office and tell him I will be in Cabo before this Friday."

"Yes, I will call him right away." In spite of the hour, she sounded alert, but unfortunately misfiring.

"No, no, you can't call them now, Suzette. Don't call them until this evening…around seven. Right now, it'll be too late to reach them…it's six o'clock yesterday evening there. And I need you to come to Amsterdam right away."

"What? Me? Amsterdam?" She stammered. I could almost see her stand up and pace in the flannel nightie she loved so much. Now she sounded wide awake.

"Yes, I will be taking a small overnight case with me from here. I need you to pack up my room and finish out the weekend with Dr. Liederman for me. Please make my apologies." Dr. L's week was just beginning, but he likes pretty girls like Suzette, maybe her presence would make it up to him.

"Really?" she began breathlessly, "What should I wear? I've never done any…"

"It's just hosting, Suzette," I said evenly. "You know, like a party host. Make certain the guests have a good time, but don't be the good time, okay?"

"Oh…okay. I will be there tonight." She was disappointed. I could hear it in her voice, but I had other things to worry about.

"Good, that's fine. Get here tonight and call before you arrive. I'll call you when I touch down." I was already making a checklist in my mind of all the things I had to do to get going. After hanging up, I showered quickly, dressed in some comfortable traveling clothes, packed a few essentials and called a cab.

As we drove through the city, I thought back to a couple of nights ago, troubling thoughts, which now prompted my departure.

Across the canal from Dr. Lidermann's is the most famous home in the city, the former hiding place of Anne Frank. During a party, while I stood on the balcony looking at Herr Frank's place of business and family home, I realized they have become international monuments to the suffering people will endure to avoid tragedy. A sadness crept over me…somewhere my Enrique was enduring a similar threat, hiding from black-hearted tyranny. Tears sprang to my eyes. I couldn't help it. So much time had passed since I had received his passionate letter from Padre Arturo Ramirez. I wept, wondering where he was.

An hour later, I was on the plane, taxiing down the runway.

The man next to me shifted, drawing me out of my melancholy reverie. He folded his arms and faced me now, shifting in his reclined seat as he rolled to his right. I watched as the blanket slipped off of his lap and gathered around his feet. Now here was a sight I was more familiar with when observing men with which I am privileged to wake.

A sizeable lump curved from his groin to his near pocket, pointing towards his hip. In the man's innocent state, it looked tempting and quite promising. I wondered if he knew how to use it. I hadn't been looking for a distraction, but it was nice to find one that could take my mind away from the more serious matters.

Beneath his mask, I couldn't make out much of what he looked like, but what I could see certainly held my interest. The jaw line was well pronounced and square. Beautiful nose and cheek bones. His hair was well kept and judging by the shapes defined under the silk, he was hard where I was soft. I could feel my panties growing moist while I watched him. I closed my eyes, moved my hand beneath the blanket and gently touched myself. In my mind's eye, I could see his hand on my hip, caressing lower to my leg and drifting quietly to touch my mons. As I took a deep breath through my nose, a tingling rose up my body. When it reached my head, I shivered, jerking my head towards him.

I opened my eyes. One hand had dropped from his chest, the fingertips tucked just inside his hip pocket above his penis. Was he awake…watching me? Could he see from underneath the mask? My nipples hardened at the thought, bunching up beneath my dress. I looked down at my breasts. Even with my sweater in place, I was advertising my lust.

I closed my eyes and slowly, moved my legs further apart, rolling my hips forward. I pushed my hand lower and through my panties, began to gently brush my lips with my little finger. Heat resonated from my vulva, the hot moist air caressed my palm.

A deep sigh came from the stranger lying next to me. I slowly opened my right eye, the one away from him in the lee of my nose. I could see him from only his waist down. His fingers moved over the end of his bulge, circling very slowly, a delicious sight. Awake or asleep? I couldn't tell yet. How to test, how to test? Keeping my one eye trained on his pocket hand, I shifted in my seat, rolling my hips towards him a bit and bringing my other hand up to my breasts. His fingers stopped moving. Awake! The naughty boy…

I quietly pushed my panties to one side and teased myself. My left hand cupped beneath my breast and gently squeezed. I felt wonderful. I felt wicked. I wanted to make his fingers move again. I slid a finger into me, taking a deep breath as I did.

With a mind of its own, my left hand slid beneath my sweater and into my low-cut dress. With thumb and forefinger, it rolled my hardened nipple, sending little tingles down to my pussy. A little moan escaped my throat. Looking over my nose, I peeked at the man. His fingers weren't moving. Instead, his whole hand was deep in his pocket, clutching at his erection.

As I continued my own ministrations, I slowly opened my remaining eye. His mouth was slightly open and the mask was pushed back off of his eyes, a steadfast blue they were, opened wide and watching my hidden hand. A little devilish smile pulled at the corner of my mouth.

"Hello," I whispered to him. He jumped, pulling his hand from the pocket. His eyes met mine and didn't miss the smile.

"Oh, I'm sorry, miss, I didn't mean…," he started, a slight drawl in his voice.

"Please keep doing what you were doing," I said softly. "I'm restless and need a distraction." I looked at his bulge. "You were my inspiration." As I sank my finger deeply inside again, my breath pushed out hotly, my eyes never leaving his. He eyes slipped down my body and back again. He smiled slowly. I winked, flirting.

He looked around the dark compartment. Someone was snoring steadily a few rows ahead of us, but no other lights were on. He reached up and turned out his. Now, we were both bathed in the soft blue glow of light from behind the curtains to the galley, where the crew rested.

I watched him carefully as his hand left its perch and moved downwards. He rubbed the palm of his hand along the bulge until he reached the crotch of his pants, then his fingers curled underneath, cupping his package. I looked at his face as he continued. His eyes were very handsome, deepset and bent low beneath dark eyebrows, watching my hidden movement. His hand was now rubbing the front of his jeans, sliding steadily along the bulge from his pocket to his balls. The muscles along his forearm flexed beneath the skin, making his fingers dance their erotic tango.

"May I see?" he whispered to me. His eyes indicated my hand beneath the blanket.

"Maybe" I teased. "But only if you join me." His eyebrows jumped in confusion. "Show me, too," I said.

His face relaxed into realization and then smiled. He carefully looked around the cabin again, then pulled the blanket up to his chest, hiding his hands. His hands moved beneath the blanket as his eyes kept stealing furtive glances in my direction. I heard the gentle pop of the first button, followed by several in succession as he opened his jeans. He raised off the seat and lowered his pants and boxers. His hands came into view again, straightening the blanket. The bulge now bowed gently beneath, pushing the wool off his lap. This was going to be fun.

Suddenly, the steady tap, tap, tap of leather shoes climbed the steps to first class. My man looked up with a look of concern on his face. His bulge thrust higher still. I smiled at him, pulled my hand out of my dress, closed my legs gently and then closed my eyes. Quickly, he grabbed a magazine and turned on the overhead light.

The stewardess was at his side. "May I get you anything?" she asked quietly.

"No, no thank you. I'm going to try and get some more shut-eye in a minute." He feigned a huge yawn, stretching out his arms.

"Are you certain? No one will be up here for over an hour after me." She didn't sound convinced.

He yawned again for good measure. "No, no…I'll be countin' sheep any minute, ma'am."

The stewardess gave up and entered the galley for a while. A couple of minutes later, she descended the staircase. I spent those minutes squeezing my thighs together while pictures of delights danced in my head.

"Now, where were we?" came the low whisper in my ear. Chills crept up my back.

My eyes half-lidded and rolled in his direction. The light was out again. I glanced at his bulge, still tenting the blanket.

I opened my legs, brushing a finger along my lips again, feeling the stickiness and lubricating warmth there. I undid the one button on my sweater and let it fall off my shoulders. My breast quivered as my hand found its position. "I was here and here," I said, relaxing into masturbation again.

"And I was here." His hand under the blanket grasped the erection and pushed it skyward.

I pressed a finger into me, then drew it out wetly, circling my clit. Electricity shot through my hips and I bit down on my lip, looking at the silhouette jumping under the blanket.

"Show me," he whispered. "Show me, please." The soft purr of his deep voice gave me goosebumps.

I pulled my hand out of my dress and watched his face. I grasped the edge of the blanket and pushed it down slowly to my thighs. The cool air of the cabin blew along my lips and I covered them, rubbing with my hand. The dress still hid everything. I gathered the silk with both hands, lifted my butt off the seat and pulled the hem to my waist. A deep tingling flashed along the flesh of my thighs. The man growled deeply at the sight of me. I opened my lips with my left hand and raising the middle finger of my right, I made a show of sinking it in…two, three times deeply, moaning as I did.

The blanket jumped. I brought my finger to my mouth, lubricating it. His eyes followed my hand.

"You're beautiful…so dang sexy. " He continued stroking himself. My eyes watched the blanket.

"Your turn. Let me see." A new cock…always a treat to see one for the first time…to wonder what pleasure lay ahead for it and me.

Again, he examined the compartment, but no one was awake. He looked back at me and my nakedness, displayed for him.

"Please, kind sir?" I begged like a little girl asking for more chocolate.

He smiled and raised the blanket, hiding us from the aisle. His cock was magnificent. Nestled in a thick patch of dark hair, it curved gently to the ruby sponge at the end, bouncing as he stroked his hand along its length. For many weeks, a more erotic sight had not met my eyes than this stranger's prick, pulsing before my gaze.

"Pretty," I told him.

"No one's ever said that before," he whispered, half-laughing at the thought.

I smiled. Sometimes you had to be in the right frame of mind to appreciate fine art.

As I watched him masturbate, I steadily increased my own rhythm, matching him stroke for stroke. I first felt my passion building deep inside my hips like a little voice nibbling at the edge of my awareness. My nipples were hard. I continually rolled and pinched my right, then my left. His hand became a blur. The head grew larger until its spongy texture turned to satin. His arm beat his side as his breath came in great gasps now. I licked my lips as I watched him. I wanted his cock. I wanted it inside me, but how…where? I moaned and plunged my fingers home again…again.