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“No! Clive here has been making me merry. It was a sobriety evening, raising money for Alcoholics Anonymous. So boring, wasn’t it, Clive?”
“Yeah,” agreed Clive.
The kissing began before Rick had reached the end of the street. In the rear-view mirror, he could see their tongues and their sloppy kissing. He grimaced at the frantic nature of the couple: no sense of passion. It was as the young man’s hand drifted down her front, fingering the buttons of her yellow blouse that Rick’s heartbeat shot up a notch. Kissing he could tolerate; roving hands had to be watched carefully.
Finding it harder to concentrate, he drove somewhat erratically. There was the familiar wildness in her eyes, the lack of thought at her predicament.
Clive released her lips. “Can we pull over some place, lose the driver?” he said brashly.
“Sure,” said Leah. “Find a quiet street, could you?” she called out to Rick.
Rick frowned and gritted his teeth. Crunch time was approaching. Over the past few weeks they had avoided this scenario; now it was coming to a head and she was about to find out exactly what her father expected from Rick.
* * *
Leah’s hair was tangled up in Clive’s fingers and he tugged a little on her scalp. It made her tingle, but not as much as the thought of the chocolate-haired driver, Rick. She knew he was called Rick Wilde—she had asked her father’s chauffeur. She often whispered the name to herself when she got home and tumbled into bed. Saying his name made her lower belly come alive and other parts of her too. The more she spent in his company, the more he seemed able to awaken her desires and fantasies. Yet he remained impervious to her. He hadn’t even told her his name. Why should she have to ask?
Attention seeking had become a preoccupation. He ignored her girlfriends, but he couldn’t ignore a fresh-faced virile youth touching her in the back seat. She uncrossed her legs and let Clive put his hand between them. The redhead sighed into her mouth and pressed his palm onto her sex mound. Leah jumped and glanced towards the mirror.
The other hand, the one nestled in her hair, began to tug harder, drawing her head down and away from his face.
“What?” she muttered uncertainly.
Clive’s roving hand withdrew from her crotch and began to fiddle with his zipper. Looking down, Leah could see an obvious bulge in his pants. He pushed her head further down.
“Pull over, mate!” barked Clive. “Can’t wait much longer.”
The car screeched to a halt in a cul-de-sac, nothing residential, and the surrounding buildings were shuttered. The streetlights flickered and Leah gulped nervously.
“I’m not sure, Clive,” she said, pushing back against his insistent hand.
“You said you would, promised me this evening.”
Leah stared at Clive’s lap, seeing a flash of hard pink flesh and then she heard the driver’s door slam shut. How could the man leave her alone? Perhaps she had misjudged him, perhaps he simply was nothing else but her driver.
She had been foolish, she saw that now and she shouldn’t have encouraged Clive to do something she had doubts about. Fantasies were one thing; reality was turning out to be something else. As she opened her mouth, not to touch him but to speak a protestation, the passenger door behind Clive flung open.
Clive shrieked like a girl as he was manhandled out of the car by the scruff of his polo neck. Leah gaped as a pair of strong hands dragged the younger man out onto the street, slamming him against the side of the Mercedes.
“You pipsqueak!” snarled her driver. “Off with you. You can walk home.”
“What!” shrilled Clive. “Leah, sweetie, get this gorilla off me!”
Leah’s hands trembled. She didn’t want to see them fighting and yet she was deeply relieved the driver had removed Clive from the car; things hadn’t gone according to plan. She hadn’t thought Clive would be so aggressive with his attempts at seducing her. Kissing and cuddling she liked, but she thought he had been joking about the blowjo
b, telling her he would donate money to the charity if she did it.
“Please, Clive, I think you should go,” she said, peering out of the door. Her chauffeur had him about the neck, not tight, but there was no doubt who had the upper hand.
“Alright, alright,” said Clive, backing down. “I’ll go. Another time,” he said weakly.
Leah wondered if the driver was about to hit Clive. However, his other hand remained to his side, tense but without a clenched fist. Slowly, her driver let him go and watched him back away, then scamper into the darkness.
Leah sighed, leaning back in her seat and shutting her eyes. The leather seat next to her creaked and she opened her eyes, startled. Rick Wilde had climbed into the back seat with her and shut the door.
“Are you okay?” he asked, keeping his distance.
Leah caught his eyes, barely visible given the absence of a nearby streetlight. Rick reached up and switched on the internal overhead light. The little bulb lit up the two seats and not much else. She blinked at him. His face confused her. There was annoyance, probably at her behaviour, but there was concern too.
