THE DRIVER

"Dear Chantal,

"I bet you didn't expect me to write to you! I'm sorry about the way we left things, and I just want you to know how much I care for you. I know that a relationship just wouldn't work between us, but I think we could have a beautiful friendship. Please don't let that friendship fade before it even has a chance to get started.

"I'm excited to hear about what's new with you. Have you given any more thought to university, and becoming a guidance counsellor? I bet that would be an interesting career, full of possibilities.

"Anyways, I don't want to scare you off by making my first letter really long, so I'll end it here. Remember that I'll always be here for you Chantal.

"Your Friend."

She folded the letter and stuffed it back in the envelope. He had actually written. More than ever before she lamented having let him get away.

Though they'd only spent one night together, she felt as if she'd known him all her life, and knew she loved him. Perhaps he just had that effect on people. She was certain that she'd gotten much to wrapped up in the idea of having someone around, and that she would now have to get past this and move on with her life.

Indulging her self-pity for one more second, she leaned against the wall of mailboxes in the lobby of her apartment block. She closed her eyes and tried to bring her mind out of the past and back into the present time. Time... for work; she was going to be late for work!

Snapping back to reality, she sped out the door and just barely caught the bus.

Chantal's day at work was much the same as usual. She was supposed to close this evening, along with the cook, Dave. Chantal's one-word description of Dave would be 'greasy.' He was somehow able to irritate people by his mere presence, without even opening his mouth. On the whole, however, he was a nice guy- always looking for the next party.

Chantal had barely the time to count her float when he came out of the kitchen to hit on her.

"What's the matter Chantal? You look like you could use a little loving," he dripped, putting his hands on her hips and moving in close behind her.

"Screw off Dave, don't you have something to fry or something?" she laughed, pushing him away.

"The only thing I got cooking is your desire for me, baby, and it's just about done."

"How do you come up with these horrible lines?"

"I read Maxim. Looks pretty slow out here."

"Yeah, well let's hope it stays that way."

"Right, so that way the shop doesn't make any money and we lose our jobs, good thinking."

"You're a real drag sometimes, Dave."

"Yeah whatever," he called heading back into the kitchen.

Chantal chuckled a bit as he left, feeling much more herself after the rousing bout of Dave-bashing.

Despite the economic consequences, to Chantal's delight, business was slow all night. A cute couple in their late teens came in just after the small dinner rush and stayed for many hours abusing their free refill privileges. A young man came in by himself and sat, reading some kind of science textbook for a few hours. Other than that, the shop was empty.

As closing time drew closer, with both her customers freshly refilled, Chantal ducked in the kitchen to kill time with Dave. He was on the phone when she walked through the door.

"Yeah... okay... how many? Nice..."

Chantal surveyed the kitchen, waiting for Dave to hang up. It was just about eleven o'clock and hr had already cleaned everything up for the night.

"Ok, I'll see you there... yeah... later."

"Big plans?" she asked.

"Just meeting my buddies down at Motto's, you wanna come?"

Motto's was a nightclub across the river from the coffee shop. It had been years since Chantal used to hang out there with her friends. Her friends had grown out of the bar scene, settling down with their mates, and left her trying to convince herself that she'd also grown out of it.

Dave often asked her if she wanted to come to this bar or that, promising he would buy her drinks and take advantage of her. It was all in good fun, and normally she would have refused in the meanest way possible- just to get a rise- but tonight she was feeling lonely. It would be just the thing for her to go out and party for a night; she could get her mind off of Greg.

"Okay," she said, looking away.

"Look, it's one thing to deny me your pleasures, but don't tease me with it, all right?"

"No, I'm serious, let's go. Just to the bar though, you're not getting any from me," she laughed.

"Hey, just hearing about it would be good enough for me."

"Pig," she snorted and turned to clean up for the evening.

Bent over behind the counter filling the dishwasher with detergent, Chantal heard Dave call out from the front of the shop.

"You want me to turn this off?"

She stood up, closing the dishwasher.

"Turn what off?"

He was standing by the neon "Open" sign.

"Oh that, yeah. Thanks."

"No problem."

They left the shop together, turning off the lights on their way out. Chantal locked the door as Dave started his twelve-year-old sedan.

He shovelled some papers off the seat to make room as she climbed in. She noticed that the interior of the car wasn't much better than the exterior. The glove compartment clasp was busted and replaced with a piece of greyed shoelace.

Dave began driving to Motto's while Chantal pulled down the sun visor, looking for a mirror to check her appearance.

Her hair looked fine, but she dug around in her purse trying to find some lipstick, and maybe some powder. She had to look good, if she were to pick up any guys to sleep with.

There was a little muscle contraction somewhere in her lower abdomen as she had that thought. She wondered where it came from. It wasn't like her to think like such a slut.

Her eyes flicked back into the vanity mirror and in the corner she caught Greg, sitting in the back seat winking at her. She twisted around to check, but he wasn't there.

"I seriously need a drink," she announced.

"Amen to that, sister," said Dave, smiling.

It was approaching midnight as Chantal followed Dave past the queue at the main doors. Being a regular at Motto's had its advantages. A bouncer at a side door let them in, free of charge, nodding to Dave with recognition. Chantal tried to ignore the bouncer's appraising glance at her body and followed Dave into the pounding club. He led her on a quick circuit through the bar, eventually finding his friends' table.

Although Chantal had never officially met any of Dave's friends, there were a few that she'd seen at the café before. Dave pointed at each of his friends in turn, giving her more names than she could hope to remember and she smiled dutifully at each of them. As she'd expected, she was the only girl at the table. While annoying at first, she quickly decided that she preferred having all the attention to herself.

There was no way that Chantal had the fake allure of the bar sluts twisting on the dance floor, but she had the figure to keep the guys at the table from wandering too far- and she knew it. She'd hardly been sitting for a minute when a beer was set before her. The donor, a sandy haired guy with somewhat of a baby face, made room for himself at her side. She had a vague suspicion that they had been introduced once, at the coffee shop, but she couldn't remember his name at all.

"Thanks," she tried to yell above the cacophony.

She saw his lips move, saying something, but whatever he said was drowned out by the endless beat. Not wanting to appear rude, she gave him a sweet smile and a nod before taking a sip of her beer.

He took another sip from his own beer and set it on the table, glancing briefly over at the dance floor. Standing up, he held out his hand to her.

She was puzzled at first, but quickly understanding grew. She was reluctant to leave her drink so soon, but the temptation to dance was to much to resist. She took his hand and they made their way to the dance floor.

As the techno throbbed and their collection of empties grew, Time seemed to move in strange new ways. Chantal found herself being seduced by the lights around the dance floor, losing herself in the music. From the outside, she was indiscernible from the rest of the twenty-somethings bobbing around the floor, but on the inside she felt free. It was as though she could move in any way at all and the music would meet her there, carrying her through each track.

She discovered that the name of her dance-partner was Kev. He hung around her most of the night but she didn't mind. She even flirted with him a bit, dancing in close to his body before moving off to flirt with some other guy.

Sadly, the night ended as it always does, just a half hour earlier than it should have. The lights had turned on and Chantal was scanning the crowd for signs of Dave. It had been a while since she'd last seen him and she was beginning to worry that he might have already left the place without her.

The crowd thinned and she still couldn't find Dave. She tried to find Dave's friends, but she couldn't tell whether she recognized some people because they were Dave's friends, or because they'd been dancing near her all night.

Chantal had just about resigned herself to calling a cab when one of Dave's friends found her.

"Kev!"

"Hey Chantal, you look lost."

"I'm so glad to see you, I can't find Dave anywhere. Have you seen him?"

"I think he left about twenty minutes ago with some chick."

"Damn, he was my ride."

"Well, uh, I could drive you."

She was trying to remember if he'd been drinking much when a wicked plan crept up on her like the hiccups.

"You certainly could," she said more to herself, "Where are you parked?"

It seemed that Kev wasn't about to blow his big chance to score. As they drove across the bridge, his hand drifted over to her knee. She looked over at him. His eyes were still on the road, but he wore a playful smile.

His hand grew bolder as they drove to her apartment. Dancing at Motto's had gotten Chantal more than a little worked up, but with the evening ending so quickly, she felt unfulfilled. It was amazing how easy it could be to substitute one kind of energy for another, she was thinking, as she began to warm up to Kev's hand.

He parked on her street and wasted no time leaning across the front seat to kiss her passionately. She returned the kiss and was pleasantly surprised that his mouth wasn't particularly offensive, even after the beer. After a bit their kiss broke and he got out of the car to come around to her side.

Chantal opened the door and stepped out into Kev's arms. He pushed another kiss at her and ground his pelvis against hers. Their difference in height caused her to wince as his bony hips dug into her soft belly. He pulled his face away from her and she led the way up to her apartment wondering if she hadn't made a big mistake.

As she unlocked her door, Chantal could feel Kev's breath on the back of her neck. She felt greasy, like she could use a shower. Going straight from work to dancing, it was a wonder anyone could stand to be near her right now, with the way she must smell. Still, he planted a few small kisses on her neck that her shudder slightly. They had tickled in a way that made her want to pull away quickly.

Once inside, Kev found her bedroom without any trouble, pulling her along with him by the hips. He began kissing her, working his tongue between her teeth as he pushed her down to her back on the bed. After some more slightly painful grinding, he started working his mouth down her neck, opening her shirt as he went. He slipped her bra off her breasts to fasten his lips around each nipple in turn.

Chantal tried to ignore the under wire of her bra cutting into her collarbone and just enjoy the slightly pleasant feeling of his tongue circling her areolas. As his mouth worked on her chest, his hands worked on her pants, opening them and laboriously tugging them to her ankles. He took a break to remove his own shirt and pants and, hoping he was now done with her breasts, pulled her bra back into place.

Kev resumed his licking and kissing just above her bellybutton and wrapped his hands around the backs of her thighs. Slowly, he sank down until naught but a thin layer of cotton separated his nose from her clit. He grabbed the waistband of her panties and drew them down with less trouble than her pants.

Ridiculous as it was, now that her cunt was exposed, she suddenly felt naked. His tongue swept the length of her slit, just barely penetrating her lips. The sensation was not at all unpleasant, but she just couldn't get into it. She stared up at her darkened ceiling and wondered how long this was going to take. Oblivious to her lack of enthusiasm, he continued licking her, his lips rubbing too hard on her clit.

After what seemed like an eternity, he stopped to put on a condom. Already her pussy lips were beginning to feel numb. Without much fanfare, he climbed on top of her and slid the head of his cock up and down her cunt a few times, getting it wet with his own saliva. Chantal wished she'd been able to contribute more of her own lubrication, but things just weren't happening for her down there.

Kev pushed his cock into her and began thrusting slowing. After the initial wince of pain before the saliva was spread around, she actually began to enjoy it. He was a nice size, and if nothing else, the warmth of his engorged cock helped get her cunt in the mood. She held onto his shoulders as his body rocked hers and the memories of her encounter with Greg in this same bed assaulted her.

If only it had been Greg that was riding her now, with his tight abdomen, clean cock and sexy jaw line. Her clit began to react as she continued her fantasy, imagining it was someone she cared about that was about to cum in her cunt. A sort of mini- orgasm gripped her briefly and she let out a quiet whimper.

It seemed the noise she made set Kev off, and just as she was coming down from her modest peak, he was picking up the pace. Their bellies made ugly, wet smacking sounds as they collided and he began grunting in time with his thrusts. As her fantasy slipped away, she felt a new sensation of dull pain in her thighs where his hips kept punching her.

She assumed he was done when he finally stopped pushing into her, and just lay atop her breathing heavily, meanwhile his weight was making it hard for her to breathe at all. She hoped to any gods there might be that he wouldn't want to stay the night. Eventually, he caught his breath and knelt up, pulling out of her.

"That was great," he said genuinely, stroking her hair. She felt bad that he didn't even realize how much of a good time she hadn't had. She couldn't bring herself to smile, but instead squeezed his hand gently.

"Look, I have to work early tomorrow, so I'd better go. But maybe I can call you sometime?"

"Sure," she answered, hoping he'd forget.

She covered herself with a blanket as he dressed himself. He finished up and leaned over, kissing her one last time.

"Good night, Chantal."

"'Night."

At last he was gone, and she could start the forgetting process; she felt like a slut for what she'd done. To get her mind off the subject, she started mentally planning what she'd wear for the next few days.

She had decided on her black velvet pants and rolled over to get more comfortable, but found a nasty surprise. She pulled the cold, slimy condom out from underneath her and dropped it off the side of the bed, turning quickly to her pillow and choking back tears.