Taxi to Paris Read Free

was perfectly clear to me. But what else did I want here? She was a hooker; she had expected me to pay for a "service" I had no idea I was getting. She conformed to my wishes when she saw that I wanted something different - as any good service is performed to suit the wishes of the client. The client?! I suddenly saw myself in a very unfamiliar light.
    She turned around. She glared coldly at me. "Should I leave?" Her voice was icy.
    I suddenly became aware of my nakedness. Embarrassed, I grabbed my shirt and threw it on. "No, that would be ludicrous."
    She shrugged. "Most women want to be left alone afterwards. It's all the same to me." This icy voice somehow had a heart-softening quality. A contradiction in itself, but it seemed that way to me.
    I buttoned my shirt and observed her. She had her arms crossed and stood there, legs apart, an unconquerable fortress. I went toward her. She followed my every move with her eyes, but she didn't stir. I stood in front of her and looked up. My God, she was at least 6'2"! "I don't want to be alone, and I don't want to go." I watched her, unshaken.
    Mockingly, she screwed up her mouth and looked at me. "Ah - the lady has developed a taste for it!" She laughed. It sounded rather lachrymose. She bent down a bit. "Until just now you didn't know, and you were irritated. Now you know and already -" she snapped her fingers - "it turns you on, right? Until now it was just a somewhat exotic adventure. Something outside of the ordinary, am I right? But now - what an opportunity! What's it like to sleep with a woman who does it for money? You'd like to know, right? Why shouldn't you try it, now that we're already here?" She turned away from me and unbuttoned her cuffs. Over her shoulder, she added, "I hope you have your checkbook with you. I'm quite expensive."
    With one jerk, she took off her shirt and tossed it on a chair. I saw her taut back and heard the scratching of her zipper. With a quick shake, she kicked off her boots, and her pants flew after her shirt. Now she was naked. With a crisp movement, she turned around and raised her arms for a moment. "There you are; I'm at your disposal."
    Finally, I had the opportunity to look at her again and to establish once more what I had noticed at first glance: she was unbelievably beautiful. I moved toward her and touched her. Her skin radiated the cold of a marble statue. "No." I shook my head. "No, I won't do it. I won't treat you like a whore just so you can get rid of me more easily." I backed up.
    "But sweetheart." She raised her eyebrows, as if to express her bemusement that I obviously didn't know the rules. "You're paying me. And I am a whore. Come -" she had put on a professional smile and came toward me. She reached behind my earlobe and stroked the sensitive spot under my earlobe with her thumb. I shut my eyes. "That's better," she cooed. I wanted to forget it. I wanted to give in to the sensation of her stroking hand. But I couldn't. I opened my eyes. She was still smiling professionally. "What would you like? You can tell me, even if it's unusual. I'll fulfill all of your wishes. You needn't have any inhibitions." She played it out like the opening credits to a movie. Suddenly, she smiled knowingly. She stopped stroking behind my ear and ran her hands down along my body until they rested on my buttocks. Then she knelt down. Only now did I realize what she had in mind. I'd been too busy with her show and my sensations. I pushed her head away.
    "Stop it!"
    She wiped the smile from her face, stood with an indifferent expression, and looked at me coldly. "Whatever. It's your money. If you'd rather, you can abuse me for it, too."
    I'd never before been in such an intimate situation with a woman who could switch herself off like that. She made me nervous. I wanted to know what she really felt. It enraged me how she took control of me in this way. And I'd never been able to conceal my anger. I blazed at her.
    Promptly, she turned her smile