Passion Paradise

CHAPTER 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 her curves. Curves in all the right places that is. She had more than an hourglass figure, with large plump breast that bulged out like two helium balloons filled with water. She had sex appeal. Sex appeal that most women 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 to long.

 She knew she looked ‘hot’, especially when the men who looked down from the scaffold, downtown when she walked below them and 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.

She 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’re looking good, babe,” she told her reflection and placed a bag of makeup that was on the shelf behind her onto the sink counter.

While she continued getting ready, she applied the finishing touches of makeup. She smoothed over a thick rich layer of red lipstick, complimenting with a thin black line around her her lips so they will standout better when she's in the club, under the many colored lights. Next was the black mascara and complimenting with black eyeliner. A soft layer of powder over the lightly 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 get laid tonight.

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

It was half-past eight. Veronica grabbed her cell phone she placed on the small round table in the entry of her apartment, and dialed for a cab. For a Friday night in New York, City, she wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. So she placed a few essentials into her purse, toys 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 he needed to get to. “No need to hurry. I’d like to get there in one piece,” she added, pulling out a ‘More’ 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 rearview 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 revile 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 your mother raised,” she replied politely, nearly half-way 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 break, 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 that 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 the 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 were a liquor store was. He glanced at his watch. Nearly twenty minutes has passed from the time he picked her up and didn’t even know her name.

“I have to apologies,” 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 understand, miss. Most people would be throwing a fit, threatening my life by now if I haven’t dropt 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 place bottles of whiskey on the self behind the counter.

When she felt the vibration from 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 he fell into. She dressed especially for him, wearing his favorite dress, scented perfume he bought in February for her birthday, and the crotchless panties she put on, all for him.

“Hello,” she said soft, and sensual. “What? You’re running late. All right, then. I’ll be sitting at the table in our usual spot in the backroom.” She put the cell phone back in her purse and looked up, meeting the cab drivers 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 like 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 manors,” 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 is 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 good.”

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