She just smiled in reply before she got out of bed to take the things back into the bathroom. When she was done with that, she took the tray away – reappearing a couple minutes later with it refilled with drinks and food. By that time, Denise was more-or-less alert again, and didn't need much help sitting up after I'd rescued my cock from the clutches of her pussy.
After Denise and I had gone through a bottle of club soda, she told me "For the life of me, I can't imagine why you would have any ex girlfriends" making Edith laugh.
I told her "It usually isn't about the sex" – "God, I hope not!" she exclaimed – "but the rest of it. Most of the girlfriends I've had have wanted me to get a 'better' job that paid more, even if I was unhappy with it, and couldn't understand why I'd want to stay in a job that pays enough to keep me comfortable and doing something I'm happy with."
Denise looked at me like she didn't understand what I was talking about, so I just asked her "You like being a nurse?"
She said that she did, so the next thing I said was "But I'll bet you wouldn't give it up to take a job like Edith's, which I expect pays more, would you?"
"Christ, no!", she exclaimed. "I'd hate it!"
I just smiled at her until she realized what she'd just said. She gave me an understanding look, and finished her sandwich in silence.
Edith took that opportunity to tell me "Jim, I can understand why you'd want to stay with a job you like, but do you really make that much money? I mean, what about your old age?"
I grinned at her and answered "It doesn't take much for me to be comfortable at home. I don't feel any pressing need to buy the latest and greatest stuff just because it's new, for example. I've got a TV that's several years old, but still works perfectly. When there's something I need or really want, I wait until I can buy the best I can find, and then take care of it so that it lasts me as long as possible. For instance, I've got a coffee maker that I bought for twenty bucks – ten years ago. It doesn't have anything fancy – no timer or anything like that; all it does is make coffee when I turn it on. But it does it every day, no muss and no fuss. I've got linen sheets for my bed that cost me three times what the cheaper percale ones do – but have lasted five times longer. My hack was bought from a company that makes cabs, not just cars. It costs twice what a car does, but will last ten times as long, even with the kinds of wear and tear a cab is subject to. What I'm getting at is that I'm not penny wise and pound foolish; I save enough that I'm able to put a fair amount of what I earn into savings, and even the market." I couldn't help grinning at her when I added "Some of it's even in the company YOU work for."
She grinned back at me and said "I think that was a particularly smart move!"
About that time, Denise yawns hard enough that her jaw creaks before she says "I don't know about YOU two, but I'm starting to feel kind of beat, and ready for some sleep." – and surprises me by blushing when Edith says "Gee, I can't imagine why!"
A second later, Edith tells me "Jim, you're MORE than welcome to stay with me tonight. After what happened, I'd like someone to snuggle up to tonight."
Denise plaintively asks "What about me?", and Edith laughs and says "Of course you're welcome to stay, too. Aren't you always?"
So I ended up spending the night bracketed by a pair of good-looking women.
The next morning, Denise had to go in to work, so Edith insisted that Denise and I have another go before she had to leave. It didn't take much convincing on Denise's part, and none for me. Then, after she'd gone – she came back to give me a goodbye kiss – Edith and I went back to bed for our own session before I had to leave. I was already in my cab and working when I found the envelope Denise had put in the back pocket of my pants – with a check for as much as Edith had paid me. When I finally got to my own bed that night, I was more than ready for some serious sleeping.
It was maybe a week later when I got a call on the radio that Edith wanted me at her office building.
When she got in, she gives me this big smile and says "It's good to see you're still alive, Jim. Denise and I both slept like a couple of rocks that night after you left."
I admitted to her that I'd been suffering a little drag-ass, myself, and she laughed before she told me "I guess you noticed that my company didn't have to call you about that jerk. Once word got out that I'd filed a complaint about him, a few other women came forward and said he'd done the same thing to them. The company fired him, and when they went to clean out his desk, they found the stuff he was using. They turned it over to the cops, and now he's looking at maybe spending some time in jail or even prison – they're liking him as a suspect for some other women that had the same experience in some clubs he likes to go to."
I tell her I'm glad to hear that, and she tells me "Denise and I have talked about that night, and neither one of us wants that to be the only time we get to be with you – you're just too nice as a human being, and a damn good lover, for that to happen. If you're willing, we'd like to have you over again sometimes."
I look at her in the mirror and can see what she expects my answer to be, and how pleased she is when I give it to her.
She tells me "Both of us still like girls more than most men – but you're not most men. It isn't going to happen all the time, but I'll bet it's frequent enough that you don't have any trouble remembering us, either."
I'm as sincere as I can be when I tell her "Whether we spend time together in bed, or not, I'm never going to have any problem remembering the two prettiest, classiest ladies that I've ever met." – and I can see her smile when I'm done.
We get to her place, and she gives me the fare, plus her usual tip, and I thank her – and enjoy watching her move as she goes inside, knowing what's under the nice clothes she's wearing.
After that, I continue to treat her the same as I always have – friendly and polite, like nothing's different or changed – whenever she's in my hack. Like I promised her and Denise, what happened in Edith's apartment that night stays there.
But each year, around my birthday, and maybe a couple of other times in between, Edith lets me know that I'm welcome to come up to her place and spend the night with her and her friend; and every time she does, I take her up on it. Not just for the sex, which is great, but for the chance to spend a little time with a couple of the nicest, classiest ladies I know.
Chapter 2
I'm a cab driver.
I'm not something else, driving cabs while I wait for my 'big break' at whatever it is that I claim is my 'real' job.
My 'real job' is driving a hack.
I've been doing it for a long time, and I've had some pretty wild experiences. This is one of them.
I'm out at the airport one time, and I get this couple that are heading to one of the hotels downtown. The guy, he isn't anything special – mid 30's maybe, average height, weight, looks, he's Joe Average. The woman, though, she's something else. I figure she's Indian – from India, I mean – and maybe as old as her late 20's. Long, straight black hair that just gleams. Very light brown clear complexion, absolutely beautiful brown eyes, a fine, straight nose, and slightly full lips. She's got a medium frame, but a set of knockers that you can't HELP but notice; they're not the huge stick-way-out kind like Pamela Anderson has. Instead, they're more rounded, and full on her chest. I can tell because she has on this lightweight dress that makes it easy to see that she isn't wearing a bra underneath. The dress fits her close enough that I can see she's got a nice, trim waist and nicely curved hips. The dress only comes down to about mid-thigh on her, and the legs sticking out the bottom are trim and strong. She moves with this kind of poise and grace that makes me think that if she should be a model, if she isn't already. As I'm putting their bags in the trunk, she turns around and squats down to do something with one of her shoes – and the dress moulds around an ass that even makes my tongue hard. When she stands up and comes over to get in my cab, I see that she's maybe four or five inches shorter than me, and just a couple of inches shorter than he is.