I'd spent my nights driving limos and town cars for a prestigious service in LA for the last five years, so there wasn’t much that could happen in the back of one that I hadn’t already seen or heard. Fights, drugs, movie deals, sex…lots and lots of sex. 

Most of the time I tuned it out. After all, the job required us to be deaf and blind to whatever happened back there, to maintain a professional distance from our clients. But these clients I hadn’t been able to tune out at all. They’d riveted me from the first moment I saw them, when I’d picked them up last week. 

By Hollywood standards, they were nothing out of the ordinary. Both good looking, chic and polished. She appeared a bit younger than him, but not enough that it made my lip curl. He pinged corporate. She was pure bohemian. Tall and lithe, with shoes that gave her an additional four inches, and a blouse that draped off one naked shoulder. I’d have given half a year’s salary to make my hair do what hers had been doing. Professionally rumpled, or beach hair, or whatever they called it. It was sexy as fuck. 

Still, it wasn’t their looks that had arrested my attention. It was something far more subliminal. The way their energy combined to create a magnetism, both toward each other, and outward, drawing me in. Whispering a secret I hadn’t known I was desperate to hear. 

As we sped up the 405 toward their Laurel Canyon destination, I gripped the steering wheel and reminded myself to breathe through whatever they were getting up to behind me. His quiet commands, her breathy moans, and the slick sounds of their pleasure, all licked against the back of my neck, inciting a voyeuristic arousal that trickled down my spine like raindrops on a window pane. I squirmed in my seat, searching for relief and lamenting how long it had been since I’d had a good fuck. 

By the time we arrived, I could have brought myself off with two good strokes. God, how I’d wanted to. How I’d needed to. 

The man—Mr. Gallo, according to my night’s itinerary—had stepped out of the car first, his gaze meandering from the part in my hair to the pointed toes of my pumps, and then back, a hint of a smile twitching the corners of his lips. 

“Paula,” he’d said, my name rolling off his tongue with its proper pronunciation. Pow-la. “You look flushed.”

They’d specifically requested me tonight, and the knowledge left me feeling both unnerved and impatient, my palms sweaty, and my heart beating in hard, bass-drum thumps. There were so many reasons they might have wanted me, most of them innocuous—I knew the way to their house, they liked the way I drove, my car didn’t smell like stale coffee. But after last time, I doubted their reason was anything so mundane. 

I stood at attention beside the rear passenger door, waiting for them to exit the restaurant. I desperately wanted to wipe the dampness from my palms, to smooth a hand over my hair, pulled back high and tight in a thick ponytail. Instead, I kept one hand clasped on my opposite wrist. A reminder not to fidget.

The restaurant door swung outward, and my gaze snapped toward it as my customers stepped into the balmy air of the Venice Beach evening. Once again, their bodies conjured that sensual, magnetic vortex, and once again, I couldn’t look away. Tonight, he wore a black suit and crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. She, an asymmetrical skirt that twisted and slipped over her calves with every step, and a blouse so sheer, even from paces away I could see the dark rounds of her areolas. My tongue drew a circle on the roof of my mouth as I imagined myself tracing their perimeters through the translucent material. 

“Good evening, Paula,” Gallo said. 

I snapped out of my little fantasy and pulled open the car door. “Good evening, sir,” I said, my voice tight. “Miss.” 

As before, Gallo made a deliberate examination of me, one as tangible as a finger stroking the side of my face, tracing the curve of my shoulder, and sliding down my arm to the tender underside of my wrist. Through it all, the woman watched me, her head tilted, her smile as enigmatic as Mona Lisa’s. 

My face heated as I felt my yearning toward them, aching to be more than an observer of their erotic adventures. Wanting to be invited along for the ride.

“Come, kitten,” Gallo said, turning to the woman. “Get inside.” He reached for her hand, kissed the back of her fingers as she folded into to back seat, and then followed her in without another word. 

I tried to ignore their kissing as we made our way along Venice Boulevard, but when I accelerated onto the 405, when their volume increased with the ambient road noise, there was no avoiding the hums and whispers behind me.

Gallo’s deep-voiced instructions might as well have been spoken directly into my ear. 

Now, where were we? Open for me, kitten. 

Yes, that’s it. Such a lovely, warm welcome. 

My cunt throbbed with every word, with her every moan and whimper in reply.

Shh, don’t gasp, now. You’ll give us away.

So wet. Tell me, kitten. Is this for me, or for her?

His question was a shot of pure aphrodisiac, straight to my vein. I glanced over my shoulder to change lanes, I told myself, not out of the need to know her answer. She lay semi-reclined in the corner of the seat, one of his hands over her mouth, the other lost beneath her skirt. Her eyes, hooded and unfocused in ecstasy, slipped toward mine and held a moment, before drifting back toward him. 

Even through the roar of lust and desire in my ears, the clicking of the blinker sounded unnaturally loud. I pulled my gaze back where it belonged, but my mind could not be pried from its eavesdropping. 

If it’s me, I’ll let you come.

Teo, please. It’s always you. 


Oh, fuck, please!

He laughed, and soon her low, protracted groan filled the car and vibrated deep between my legs, arousing me beyond reason. I was so wet, so distracted. I thought about getting off the freeway so I wouldn’t kill us all. Instead, I squeezed my thighs tight together to give myself a tiny jolt of the relief I needed, and continued north, both hands clutching the steering wheel. 

By the time we neared Laurel Canyon, it was almost as if I’d imagined the whole thing. The only sounds behind me were ordinary ones. Whispers—of voices and of clothing—the small squeaks of shifting bodies bending leather. The snick of a water bottle being opened and quiet clinking noises of a handbag being searched. 

We came to a stop sign and I glanced in the mirror to find the woman applying gloss to her lips with a wand. She caught me looking and, without taking her eyes from mine, bent her head to speak into Gallo’s ear. 

If he looked into the mirror, I didn’t see it. I’d turned my eyes back to the road.

“Take us up the driveway, if you wouldn’t mind,” Gallo told me. The last time I dropped them off, they’d gotten out on the street, in front of a two-car garage at the bottom of an embankment, well below the glass-fronted home on the bluff. “There’s a turnaround up there.” 

The house was all glass on the front side, too, and why not? Up here they had no neighbors to speak of. 

Gallo was out of the car before I could open the door, so I simply held it while he helped the woman from the back seat. “Give us a moment, kitten,” he told her.

She made her way inside with that runway-model walk of hers, shedding her clothing as she went. The sheer top first, pulled overhead and flung away, and then the skirt, which slithered down her legs to pool on the floor of the entry. She stepped clear of it without missing a beat, and kept walking in nothing but her high-heeled gladiator sandals. 

“My Christina does have a flair for the dramatic,” Gallo said when she had disappeared from view.

Christina. It suited her. “I can see why.”

“I know we haven’t been subtle,” he went on. “She is smitten with you, and I do love to make her happy. As for me…” 

His pause grabbed my attention away from the empty hallway and we stood watching each other.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about wrapping that glorious tail of yours in my fist.” I stood motionless as he reached past my shoulder and fingered a few strands of my hair. “Would you care to join us this evening?” 

My heart resumed that slow, heavy beat borne of intense desire. I’d been propositioned scores of times on the job, but there were only a handful I’d given any consideration to, and only one I’d ever accepted. I could make a hundred excuses why I shouldn’t consider this one, either, but it had been so long since I’d had a night of unbridled pleasure. Too long. 

Tonight’s offer would be filed under temptation incarnate. Gallo held out his hand, and I took it. 

After I made a brief stop in what turned out to be a well-stocked bathroom—a tidy basket held wipes, condoms, and single-use packets of lube—Gallo led me to their stunning, high-ceilinged master bedroom. Huge sliding doors had been pushed to the wall’s edges, letting the night inside. The lights of LA stretched out below, all the way to the black edge of the Pacific.

Christina rose from where she had been perched, naked and uninhibited, on the edge of their enormous bed. She met me in the middle of the room and said, “I’m so glad you’ve come.” 

Her hands skimmed atop my starched shirt, her fingers curved around my shoulders, and she had my jacket part way down my arms, while I stood inert, trying to catch up. I wasn’t bothered by her confident approach, I just didn’t know what part I was expected, or allowed, to play.

She must have sensed my reticence, because she bent and kissed the soft hollow behind my earlobe, whispering warm against my neck, “You can touch me.” 

She licked a fiery line up my throat, and I flared to life.

I covered her breast with my hand, her nipple a tight nub against my palm as I skimmed circles and figure eights over her skin, reveling in the warmth and learning her texture. I had to pause while she pushed my coat off my arms, and then unbuttoned my shirt with sure fingers. She divested me of that, too, and then eased one cup of my lace bralette beneath my breast. “May I?” she asked, as if my body weren’t already pleading to her.

“Of course.” 

She licked, and hummed, drew her teeth up my taut nipple. Tugged with lips and fingers. I felt all of it—every stroke, every suck, every sharp edge—deep in my dark, needy core. There was no stopping the moan rising up my throat. She was a siren, and I was crashing, helpless against her song.

I’d lost track of Gallo until his hands smoothed around my waist. He worked the button and zipper of my slacks free and eased them down, taking my panties with them, stopping along the way to lick under the curve of my ass, to nip the tendon inside my thigh. He suckled behind each knee, lifted each foot to remove my shoesand press his thumb up the arch.

If Christina was a siren, the two of them together were making me feel like a Goddess. 

“I want to taste you so bad,” she whispered, her lips on mine, her tongue dipping inside, teasing mine. She tasted of red wine and the lip gloss I’d watched her apply.

And then she was moving, taking me with her as she backed toward the bed. She sat and pulled me close to touch her tongue to my flat navel. Her fingertips explored my curves and outline, her hands molded and shaped my ass. She licked and kissed across my belly, drew her nails over my skin, her thumbs across my nipples. 

Teo joined us, his radiant heat warming my back and his erection wedged in the seam of my ass. His fingers touched lightly up my backbone, my neck, the back of my head until he took my hair in his hand, twisting and twisting, then smoothing the length of it, unleashing a luscious shiver down my spine. 

They overwhelmed me with their hands and bodies, lips and whispers, until it all became a sensual blur. Only when Christina’s fingers slipped through my labia, parting and caressing, dipping into my wet opening, did my focus sharpen. I grabbed onto her shoulder for balance and widened my stance, giving her full access. 

It was all I could do not to whimper when she pulled her hand away and raised her fingers, wet and gleaming. She held my gaze, but spoke past me. “She likes us, Teo,” she said, then put her fingers in her mouth and sucked. 

“Fuck,” I said, although my voice was more air than sound.

“Yes, let’s,” she replied. “But first…”

She scooted backward up the bed, her fingers laced with mine, and pulled me with her. I had yet to trace the outlines of her nipples with my tongue, so when she made it to the top of the bed, her head on the pillows, I stretched out and pressed my mouth to her breast. She wasn’t large, but her nipples were, by comparison. Perfect fingertip-shaped buds that jutted between my lips. With my every suck and flick of my tongue, she emitted a high-pitched exhale of pleasure. I recognized the sound from our two car rides.

She allowed me to enjoy myself for few moments, then she reached out and took hold of my ass, dragging me up her body. My spine curved as I kissed my way up her sternum, her chin, her mouth and nose, while she tucked my hips up and up. Right to where she wanted me. To where I wanted to be. 

I hovered astride her face with her hands spread on my ass, her fingers pressed deep into my flesh. “Hold onto the headboard,” she said. “We’re going to rock your world.”

I canted forward and gripped the top of the wooden headboard as tight as I had the steering wheel, earlier. Her eyes sparkled with enjoyment as her tongue flattened against me and she drew it, wet and slow, through my crease. A lavish, all-encompassing lick, from taint to clit, that heated my blood so fast I saw stars. “Oh, fuck, yes,” I groaned, rocking my hips, thirsting and insistent.

I didn’t have a chance to settle in with the rhythm of her tongue, though. Something warm dripped onto my tailbone and ran through the crack of my ass. The dueling sensations were almost too much to bear. 

Teo’s fingers followed the path of the warm lube, stopping to massage it around my asshole. Not enough to penetrate, just enough to lubricate and excite the nerve endings there. I arched my low back and begged, “More,” but the motion brought my clit into contact with Christina’s lips, distracting me in the other direction. I reversed, sinking onto her tongue, and then arched again, wordlessly asking Teo to penetrate my backside. He massaged, opening me up just a bit, curved his blunt thumb over the edge and drew back, over and back. 

“Please,” I panted, my voice high and strained. I thrust my hips with more purpose, trying to absorb everything at once. Christina’s tongue lapped through my warm folds, curled over my clit, pressed inside to taste me. Her hair tickled the undersides of my thighs, her fingers dug into my ass, holding me firm. 

And I…I held on to that headboard with everything I had and fucked her tongue, her teeth, her nose.  

Teo dripped more lube on my ass and pushed something small and hard inside. I moaned in anticipation as he eased in a second, slightly larger bead, and then a third. He penetrated and withdrew, the beads doing the work his thumb had, while Christina braced me in place for what was about to come. 

When he pressed the next bead in, I clenched my teeth against the grinding noise that came up from my depths, a mewl like some wild animal on the savannah. And when Christina sucked on my clit, drawing it from its hood to lick the tender head, I thought I might scream. I’d never felt anything quite like the acute mix of ecstasy and pain they elicited. I wasn’t sure I wanted more, and I was certain I did. 

I became a creature of pure frenzy. Grinding and arching. Bucking and recoiling. Her tongue, the penetration and withdrawal of the beads, hands restraining me, all of it. Everything. Taking. Demanding. I had no control of any of it. My body clenched, my legs trembled, and I was ready…so ready…

“Oh, god,” I gasped. 

My vision turned to black, my lungs seized, and I flew apart. Shattered. There was no other word for it. I was a pane of glass dropped from ten stories up. Broken into a million sharp, prickling shards. 

Christina drew her tongue over me in soft, soothing laps, bringing me down until I collapsed to one side. She watched me with a coy smile, her eyes twinkling, as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. 

Teo leaned down to kiss the taste of me from her chin, then settled along my other side. He drew the backs of his fingers over my breast, and then Christina’s, before resting his hand on her stomach. We lay there in that loose embrace while I recovered.

“I would say I’m one lucky girl,” I finally said, “but it would be a huge understatement.”

“Well, mi dolchezza, it takes just the right girl to bring out the best in us,” Teo said. “Christina picked you out the moment we first saw you. She has a knack for reading people.”

I’d almost forgotten the magic of authentic sexual chemistry, until the two of them happened into my life to remind me. I turned on my side to kiss Christina in thanks, and reached back with my free hand to stroke Teo’s cock. I didn’t want him to feel left out. 

Luckily, they’d been my final customers of the night. 

“Well, then?” I asked. “What’s next?”

Renee Dominick lives and works in the Seattle suburbs, writing stories she hopes will steam your glasses. In her down time, she's walking her terriers, enjoying her garden, or indulging her love of off-beat movies and dark BBC police shows. Find her novella duology at Entangled Publishing, and her erotic short story, Through Glass a Stranger, in the kINKED Anthology.