A Taxi Driver's Chance Encounter with a Desperate and Enigmatic Woman

A Phone Call.

My phone rang, I reached an arm out from under the bed clothes and answered it, "Neil Barker is not here and if you want a Taxi you can sod off" I announced sleepily trying to imitate an answer-phone, expecting the call to be from Harry asking me to do a Taxi run for him.

"Its Elsie, you replied to my email." a small female voice announced.

"Elsie, what email," I struggled to shake the sleep from my head.

"The one replying to me on the bondage site."

"Oh, its one a.m. here in the UK. I was asleep," I explained.

"I know it's one a.m, I'm sorry but can you talk?"

"Actually I have an early start, can I ring you back some other time?" I really did not want to be bothered.

"Please, it says you are a mechanic, in your profile."

"Taxi driver nowadays" I corrected.

"But you were a Mechanic? you have tools," she asked.

"I am not coming to fix your bloody motor at one in the morning, goodbye." I slammed the phone down.

It rang again, "We were cut off." she said.

"No I put the bloody phone down, now sod off."

"No don't go, I need help,"

"Call the bloody AA," I replied angrily.

"They don't do bondage"

"Eh," I thought I had mis heard

"They don't do bondage."

"I thought that's what you said," I replied thoughts of sleep receding.

"You replied to my email thread, don't do it you said."

"Remind me" I said as I often put stupid comments on web sites.

"The bondage machine, the Deprivator attachment." she said quietly.

"Elsie, I don't remember an Elsie."

"Elsie, underscore forward slash forward slash fuck, thats F U C H hyphen slut."

"From Los Angeles."

"No I'm in North London, I lied." she admitted.

"So am I," I agreed.

"I hoped you were, I recognised the pub from the photo on your profile."

"Yeah, I live just down the street from the Three Compasses, but I really do need to get to sleep."

"Sorry but I need help, my phone credit is running down, please help me, please come to" and she gave her address.

"Two O'clock tomorrow, O.K"

"Noooo now please, I'm begging, the key is under the flower pot and Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr."

We were cut off.

I hung the phone up and tried to sleep, but I thought about the web site and of course I had to fire up the old Laptop and check her out.

She looked about thirty, as far as I could tell from a close up photo of her Vagina and Anus, and she was clearly into fucking machines and bondage, I found I had replied to a post of hers about a an expensive Italian bondage, restraint and penetration machine and said she had one and asked had anyone tried the permanent deprivation fitting, The Deprivator.

I wrote, "Change the Pop rivets for Rover 25 trim clips in case you need to remove it."

She had replied "You don't remove it Ass hole, that's the whole point."

I found a link to the manufacturers, the basic suite cost around fifteen thousand pounds assembled and tested, and included an array of tools and accessories built around a restraint seat something like a cross between a dentists chair and something used by a gynecologist.

I went through a whole range of emotions in about thee minutes, interest, excitement then fear at the thought it might go horribly wrong and seriously maim someone.

I was pulling my pants up over my erection before I really started thinking, logic suggested I should be trying to get some sleep, but the thought of someone helpless waiting for me was suddenly something I could not ignore, I did not even bother with my jacket.

I remembered my Mondeo was parked up round the back of the pub so I opened the bedroom window and looked down the street and saw my old friend Leroy waiting for fares in his Toyota Minicab just outside the Massage place.

I grabbed a few tools from the kitchen threw them in my sports bag and ran to the Minicab, I gave him the address and he did his usual wheel spinning, tyre howling Lewis Hamilton impression before dropping me off, "How much?" I asked.

"You do me a favour some time, OK" he grinned, and I knew I would end up saving him a couple of hundred on a full service for his clapped out Toyota for a ten pound ride but, he was not a bad guy, atrocious driver but OK.

There was a key under the plant pot, but I was not expecting the address to be a town house, most places around here were subdivided into bed sits, but I unlocked the door and stepped into well maintained, polished, expensively carpeted middle class luxury.

I looked around, to the left a Dining room, 12 chairs around a polished mahogany table under a glittering chandelier, a striking portrait of an Admiral dominated one wall, an ornate fireplace another.

The kitchen was beautifully clean, the units apparently brand new, the lounge, all leather settees and wide-screen TV again spotless with no sign of anyone around at all.

I ventured up the wide staircase, the stairwell open to a clerestory on the roof, the open stair treads brightly polished, dangerously so I thought, as I climbed up and explored the upper floor, a study with a computer on standby showed hopeful signs of recent activity, but bedrooms and bathroom were again immaculate and empty.

"I'm on the third floor" I heard the faint shout from above drifting down the stairwell.

I climbed the stairs, "Where,"

"Here, Oh can you see the panel at

Explore my other stories

THE END