The Driver

“Tell that fucking juice-head faggot that if he doesn’t close the account I’m going to feed him his fucking balls in court. I’ll sue the dick off of him and shut down his studio. He’s not fucking my ass for another fucking season, you got me?”

Lou howled into his phone. His little round face was apoplectic and flushed, as usual. His homophobic screed shifted into casual racism and then back to homophobia before the limo had even traveled a full block. Lou’s driver looked up into the rear view mirror and caught the eye of Lou’s son, Mike, whose expression was equal parts disdain and exhaustion. Mike shook his head and the driver nodded sagely. They made a turn down a less congested street and the driver was able to pick up speed a little. Lou put his hand over the mouthpiece of his phone, and said to Mike, “jesus christ, I thought I was going to lay a fucking egg sitting in traffic. And am I fucking hen? Jesus. Fucking mother goose…”

“You’re trying to get uptown in the middle of rush hour traffic, dad. Do you want him to drive on the friggin’ sky?” Mike shot back.

“Watch your fucking mouth, kid. The mouth on you…jesus,” Lou exclaimed, then said to Pete, his driver, completely without irony, “Kid swears like a cock sucking sailor. Gets it from his mother, I swear.”

After that Lou returned to his phone call. A few blocks later the limo slowed to a halt and Lou once again covered up his mouthpiece.

“Do you need money?” He asked his son.

“No. I’m good. Thanks though.”

“Alright,” he said to Mike, then to his driver, “Mike’s going up to his school. I don’t want him taking the train with these psychos out. Last week somebody fucking pissed in a guy’s face. Right on the fucking train. It’s a circus down there, I swear to god.”

With that Lou exited the car and made his way back to his office. Mike watched his father walk away through the deeply tinted windows and shook his head once again.

“That man,” he said.

“You’re father is a character,” Pete said, as he started driving again. “But he’s ok. I don’t know how he hasn’t burst a blood vessel, but…”

Mike shook his head one last time and then switched gears. “How long do you think it’ll take before we get back to the campus?”

Pete hesitated. “Mike…”

“It’s just a question, Pete. C’mon, how long in this traffic?”

“Maybe…at least an hour.”

“More than enough time then. Do you want to?”

“I’d prefer if…”

“I’ll get you a mid-year bonus. My dad’s been on the fence about it. He thinks my mom spends too much so he’s trying to cut corners. I’ll get it for you. Guaranteed.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Pete responded.

“I don’t know about all that,” Mike shot back. “You know what you have to do for it.”

“You really do take after your father,” Pete said.

Mike shrugged and Pete put up the privacy divider between the driver’s cabin and the rest of the limo. It was a tacit sign between them that the game was beginning. After a minute or so, Pete asked, “what are you doing?”

“I’m taking my clothes off.”

“Are you hard?” Pete asked, as he turned onto another street.

“A little…maybe halfway.”

“Touching it?”

“Not yet, should I?”

“Not yet,” Pete answered as he rolled up to a toll-booth. He paid and wished the toll-taker a pleasant day. He drove off and toward the on ramp to the bridge. “Go ahead. Touch yourself for me.”

Mike let out a low growl. The city rolled by unnoticed as Pete focused on the road ahead and Mike spouted filth.

“It’s hard now. Real hard. Should I play with my hole?”

“Do you want to?” Pete asked.

“Yeah.”

“How bad?”

Pete hit his horn casually and the car in front of him sped up.

“Real bad,” Mike said, his voice breathy, desperate.

“Then no. Spread your legs wide for me, but just keep playing with your dick.”

Mike made a strangled sound, but he would comply.

The high midday sun was making the river shine and shimmer. It was a moment of unexpected beauty that Pete was sad to have only seen through his darkened sunglasses.

“Fuck,” said Mike, apropos of nothing. “Fuck.”

Pete just drove. As they moved away from the city, the traffic grew lighter and Pete was able to drive faster. Mike’s noises increased in fervor.

“What do you want me to do, Pete?” He was trying to sound casual, in control, but the slight desperation in his voice was now full on pleading.

“I want you to shut the fuck up,” Pete answered.

Mike whined like a kicked puppy, but Pete had no doubt that the command had made him twice as hard. Either way, he was quiet for the next few miles.

“Good boy,” Pete said after enough silence had passed. “Are you close?”

“Uh huh,” Mike answered eagerly.

“Then go ahead.”

“Are you sure…ok…I’m about to — fuck — fuck, I’m cumming.”

And that was what got Pete hard. The idea of his boss’s son creaming himself in the backseat under his authority. Pete’s dick pushed hard up against his suit pants. He reminded himself that this was already crazy enough, that fucking Mike’s ass would be crossing a line even though the college slut clearly wanted it. Their game would have to do for now, but maybe one day Pete would surprise him. That could be fun.

Pete turned into the university’s entryway and rolled down his window to speak with the person at the gate. After showing Mike’s university parking pass, the guard let him drive through.

“Are you cleaned up?” Pete asked.

“Mostly,” Mike responded. “I left some back here for you though. A present.”

Pete’s dick jumped. This kid was all trouble.

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