How I met Louise           
by Freeman@oink.co.uk
A Taxi Home


Chapter 2

A Taxi Home

Getting a cab in our city at 1am is only easy compared to getting a cab at
2am. British licencing laws mean every pub throws out its 500 pissed up
punters at exactly the same time. Since most people who attend clubs go there
to get laid, or as a poor second best to get pissed; and since at least half
the men, and a fair number of the women will have been rejected by someone of
their chosen sexuality, and quite possibly by someone who actually wasn't of
their chosen sexuality, at least once before the club doors slammed shut
behind them; then there are hundreds of testosterone fuelled short fuses
attached to angry failures of all sexes, all queueing for the same cab at the
same time.

At 1am the queue, although long, consisted mainly of dejected pub goers, sulky
but tired, with a sprinkling of curry and kebab house leavers.

They waited in a silent smilefree line at the edge of a car-cracked pavement.

Just ahead of me two glammed-up girls crossed the road towards the taxi rank
and two or three of the men found the enthusiasm to raise a ragged jeer.

"Show us your knickers" said one original wag who obviously felt that he had
suffered insufficient rejection so far that night. But to my surprise one of
the girls lifted up her dress to show her stained white panties stretched
tight across the bulge of her cunt and gave a couple of pelvic thrusts. In
order to make sure that all the men got an equally good view she stood in the
road, and so when the long awaited taxi pulled up he was forced to stop a
little way short of the queue, or audience as it had become. He beeped his
horn gently, and the girl turned round to face him and gave another pelvic
thrust, and then moving round the side of the cab she put her hand down her
pants and thrust her cunt onto her finger, throwing her head back in mock
ecstasy; and at the same time her friend opened the back door of the cab and
got in.

The first girl took her fingers out of her underwear and waved them in the
direction of the driver, who at first pulled his head away from the open
window, but then decided otherwise and tried to smell her. With her other hand
she opened the other door of the cab and started to climb in.

The man at the head of the queue suddenly woke up, and realised that they had
just stolen his cab.

"Hey", he bellowed, "I'm next."

"Fuck off" said someone else in the line for no particular reason that made
sense to anyone.

But the man was not to be mollified, even by such clear-cut advice.

"Get out of that fucking cab, that's mine."

"Leave it out mate" said another voice, "they robbed you fair and square".

"I'll fucking kill 'em" said the first guy, striding towards them, when his
way was blocked by fair and square man.

"You'll have to get through me first", he said.

The second girl, the cunt-stroker, was just about to pull the cab door shut.
Through the open window she said to the first guy:

"You can share the cab with us, la, if you want"

"Where are you going?" he said, all anger forgotten instantly.

"Northend", said miss cunt

"Oh, I'm going to Westleigh", he said, his voice full of disappointment..

"Never mind then" said the other girl, silent up till now.

"No it's all right", said the cunt, " he can share with us - as long as he
drops us off first"

"Alright, so long as he gets a fucking move on."

"That's OK", said the man opening the door to get in the back with the girls.

"You might as well sit in the front if you're getting out last", she said
pulling her skirt down and closing the door, "it'll save you gettin' out
again."

"It'll be easier for youse to pay the fuckin' driver too", said the one that
had been too refined to show her vagina to the world.

And so he opened the front door, already feeling in his pockets for the money
to pay the driver in the way men do, so that they don't have to reach in their
trouser pocket whilst they're sitting down, and mentally taking out extra
because the journey was going to be longer this time.

While all this commotion was taking place, another cab arrived on the other
side of the road, needing to make a u-turn to join the rear of the rank, but
unable to do so because the first cab was blocking the way. I went up to the
window.

"My girlfriend is just up the street looking after a guy who's diabetic who's
collapsed. He needs to get home urgently to get a shot of insulin."

When I said the word 'girlfriend' a little shiver ran up my body, Girlfriend.
I wished it was true.

"Sorry mate, you'll have to get an ambulance. I have to pick up from that
queue."

"I can't wait for an ambulance, he's almost unconscious. Look, here's a fiver
for yourself - it's really important to me."

"Alright", said the driver snatching the money, "get in quick."

I did and we roared up the road just as the other cab left with the girls.
Louise was pretty much as we had left her, standing on the street with the guy
sitting on the floor leaning up against the shop front. As the cab pulled up
Louise bent down and grabbed a handful of his coat with one hand and put her
other hand under his arm pit and hauled him to his feet.

He didn't seem to help her at all. When he was standing up she put her right
arm round his waist and hoisted him up on to her hip, where she could hold him
with one arm, much like a mother holds an infant. I realised then that he was
conscious because he put his left arm round her shoulder, and his right arm
round her waist, and held on. She gave a little flick of her hip to hoist him
a little higher and get his feet clear of the floor and then she carried him
over to the cab. I fussed around like a butterfly, but she carried him
straight to the cab, turned sideways and lowered him into the back seat while
I held the door open. She let him go, flicked his feet into the seatwell with
her foot and shut the door. She gave the driver a used envelope with his
address on the front and said:

"That's his address - how much?"

"About 7 or 8 quid" said the driver. "Is he alright, he's not going to be sick
in the cab is he? Are you sure he doesn't need a doctor?"

"Here's twenty." she said, "Look after him!"

It was not a request, it was a command. Nevertheless she did not let go of the
£20 note until the driver nodded in agreement. Nothing else was said and the
cab moved off, the man sitting in the back seat, upright, awake, but away with
the fairies.

"That's generous", I said to Louise.

"I'm a generous person", said Louise, giving me a half smile. "Anyway, it's
his money."