Red Carpet Rendezvous--Caprice

by Jaden Tanner

  “Getting up this early for FLASH is bordering on slavery,” she complained. “If I was into working night shifts, I would have joined the fire department!”

  The taxi driver had been glancing back at the incensed redhead in the rear-view mirror. She caught him staring at her, licked her lips with relish and added, “…or become a taxi driver. The things I have to do …”

  Lori Schneider had booked them flights that would first take all of them to London. Caprice would then have reached her final destination, and after a two-hour lay over, John and Maren would continue on a transatlantic flight to the U.S.

  Despite her internal excitement about her trip to California, Maren was now calm and withdrawn. Caprice didn’t let that affect her mood — she was ready for action this morning. She was wearing a short, red, low-cut Jean Paul Gaultier dress along with her newest acquisition from the Jimmy Choo Collection: Hot red four-inch heels that really weren’t suited for the foul weather.

  “Mon dieu,” Caprice called out as she lounged over the backrest of her seat, putting on a show for the taxi driver who could easily watch her via the rear-view mirror. “I almost forgot to change the batteries of my favorite bright green vibrator.”

  Sitting up front in the passenger seat, Maren noticed how the taxi driver, a good-looking college student with scruffy hair, couldn’t take his eyes off the rear-view mirror. Now his unshaven jaw dropped and he swerved almost causing an accident in the morning rush hour. Maren rolled her eyes. She was sure that her friend had forgone her underwear again, despite the temperature being barely above freezing.

  “Terrible,” Maren muttered, leaving open to interpretation whether she was referring to the almost-forgotten batteries or Caprice’s blunt flirtation. Maren dug around her handbag and checked the travel itinerary once more. She had packed her tickets and her passport was still valid, too. This time, everything seemed to be going according to plan — provided their driver didn't crash because Caprice was giving him too much of an eyeful.

  “So what’s going on with this guy Chris?” Maren asked as casually as possible.

  “Ask his wife,” Caprice replied with a wave of her hand. Then her mouth stretched into a knowing smile. “I still owe him something,” she said and luxuriously licked her lips.

  “He won’t let that particular matter rest, in fact I would bet that I’ll be getting some incessant calls on my return.”

  Maren nodded silently. At least Caprice had managed to get her the private address of Greg Wilson, the presumably gay Hollywood star. But she wasn’t sure if she wanted to test the theory of whether or not Wilson was into women, personally. She decided to assess the situation first before deciding one way or the other. If she was even able to meet the famous actor at all were written in the stars of the Hollywood sky. Maren had to admit that the mission to discover his true sexuality was indeed a tempting one, because Wilson was a good-looking guy, who many women lusted after.

  She didn’t even want to entertain the thought that he could turn out to be gay in the end. On the other hand, if the rumors turned out to be true, she would be returning with a hot scoop for FLASH.

  “I’m not liking you today at all,” Caprice’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “What’s wrong with you, chérie?”

  “Nothing,” said Maren “I slept terribly. It’s probably the excitement before the flight.”

  “Well, here’s hoping that the jetlag doesn’t knock you out.” Caprice replied, not very charitably.

  “I’ll sleep when I get to the hotel and then get back to work,” Maren promised and turned to her friend, who had been watching her in the make-up mirror of the folded down sun shield.

  “You will have to keep me updated.”

  “Sure”

  The driver put on the blinker and took the exit to the airport. “Here we are,” he said and looked into the rear-view mirror for far too long.

  Maren pulled out her wallet and settled the bill. The driver got out and walked around the car. He helped them place their bags on one of the nearby trolleys. Caprice meanwhile made sure to grant him magnificent views of her cleavage.

  “You were hitting on him,” Maren scolded her friend once the taxi had taken off.

  Caprice laughed. “So? I bet my ass that I make an appearance in one of his wet dreams tonight.”

  Now Maren had to laugh, after all. “You’re hopeless,” she said and pushed the trolley towards check-in. It was pleasantly warm inside the glass walls of the airport building. A professional-sounding loudspeaker voice traveled through the hall.

  “There you are. Finally.” John Feyn greeted them. He pointedly looked at his watch and shook his head. “We’re gonna miss the flight, guys.”

  “Sorry but I had to …”

  “Madame took too long looking for her vibrator batteries,” Maren finished her friend’s sentence and rolled her blue eyes after shooting him a knowing look. “Alright, let’s get a move on, before we end up watching the plane take off without us from here.”

  “There are things I don’t need, nor want to know,” John replied and glanced to Maren — a gaze that sent pleasant shivers down her spine.

  “Have you been waiting long?” she asked, trying to distract from the tension between them.

  “Half an hour. I had to be here earlier because I had to do a special check in for all my camera equipment.”

  “How can you separate yourself from your baby?” Caprice laughed.

  “You normally don’t let anyone pry that camera from your hands.”

  John shook his head and lifted his winter coat so they could see his Nikon peeking out. “Never, Caprice. I just checked in the back up camera and the rest of the equipment. My baby is carry on, I won’t let anyone touch it.”

  “I understand that very well” Caprice grinned and opened her handbag to show John her dildo, wedged between her make-up bag and her smartphone.

  Maren bit back a bitchy comment and made the others hurry along. “Otherwise you’ll have to explain to Stein why the plane flew to London without us.”

  “No, mon chérie, I won’t pass this trip up,” Caprice shouted and pulled John along with her to the counter. “The good thing about running late is that the line for check-in is virtually non-existent, since everyone else is already sitting on the plane.”

  ***

  When they landed at London’s Heathrow airport, barely two hours later, Caprice had hardly even touched the coffee the stewardess had poured her once they’d reached cruising altitude. She started getting angry as she rose from her seat and pulled her hand luggage out of the overhead cabin.

  “So as soon as the coffee has cooled to a decent, drinkable temperature, you have to let that trolley dolly take it back off you again …” She complained, shouldering her red Birkin bag. After being on the waiting list for years, she had finally been able to pick up the bag at the Hermes store in Paris on her last visit to the city.

  Maren winked at John, who inconspicuously shrugged his shoulders. While Caprice was still turning on her iPhone, Maren and John made the decision to use their stop over to have a big brunch.

  “How about it?” John turned to Caprice “Will you join us for a little while longer or do you want to go straight to your hotel?”

  “Hotel? Merde, wanna bet that my bed is still filled with another sleeping guest at this ungodly hour?”

  “You won’t be getting bored in London, that’s for sure.” Maren tried to calm her friend down. “Take a taxi, ride into the East End and check out the hottest trends. If you get bored, write an article about it — I’m sure Stein will buy a good story from you.”

  “Pshaw!” Caprice said “I will not join the ranks of these vile fashion reporters.”

  “No” John laughed. “Stein provided you with a higher calling. So maybe you could use the time to prepare yourself for the production company’s press conference.”

  “Why should I prep for a press conference? I’ll find out everything that could possibly be said
right then and there.”

  Maren sighed. When Caprice wanted to be pissed off, she wasn’t easily calmed down.

  “Look! Over there, isn’t that one of the guys that’s supposedto be in that movie?” John noticed and pointed at a tall, dark-haired man in his late twenties, who was walking straight towards the arrival hall’s exit, pulling a rolling suitcase behind him.

  The women’s eyes followed the pointing finger of their photographer companion.

  “It really is. It’s Robert Hatch,” Maren agreed. She’d seen photographs of the actor and knew what she was talking about. “He looks even better in real life,” she added with a little smile.

  “And he seems to have a sizable package, too,” Caprice noted, as she appraised the well-built man from top to bottom. Robert Hatch was around six-foot-five, had broad shoulders, and was wearing a trench coat with jeans and a white shirt. His hair was chin-length and his designer stubble emphasized his striking features. As he passed the three of them, he gave them a friendly nod and then disappeared through the automatic glass doors.

  Caprice seemed to be in a hurry all of a sudden. “Where the hell is my damn suitcase?” she shouted and stared at the baggage carousel, which started moving at that exact moment.

  Maren immediately knew what her friend was planning to do. Caprice would follow the actor and she wouldn’t be surprised if her friend were to land in his bed that very same night.

  “I don’t think you need us anymore,” John grinned. “Have a great time, I’ll see you!” he saluted her and motioned at Maren. It was time for a long breakfast.

  ***

  “Merde, merde, merde,” Caprice ranted as she jumped directly in front of one of London’s black cabs. The driver slammed on the breaks and came to a halt barely an inch in front of her. Caprice swung open the passenger door and shoved her suitcase onto the seat next to the driver, a sexy black man of about thirty years old. He was damn enticing, and looked a little like Blair Underwood, who Caprice had always lusted after while watching ‘Sex and the City.’ But right now, nothing was more important to her than to continue her pursuit of Robert Hatch.

  Once Caprice had sunk back into the comfortable seat behind him, she pointed forward with one of her red manicured fingernails.

  “Follow that cab right there,” she instructed the driver over the intercom.

  “Alright,” said the man in his deep voice and started his vehicle. Even though the voice reached her ears through a loudspeaker, it sounded warm and magnetic, while the man himself seemed to possess a stoic calmness. He didn’t let the hectic nature of his fare unsettle him.

  Caprice felt the soft vibrations of the diesel motor underneath her and let herself sink back into the cab’s cushioned seats. That had been close, damn close.

  She’d been able to leave the airport building, suitcase in tow at the very last possible moment, after saying her swift goodbyes to John and Maren. The moment she’d stepped out into the cool moist London air, she had seen a black cab drive off — the very same that Hatch had gotten into only moments earlier.

  The little windshield wipers battled — seemingly in vain, against the persistent rain this city was famous for, and dragged Caprice’s mood down.

  “Can’t you go a little faster?” she asked, agitation in her voice, and tapped against the partition.

  When are the Brits going to wise up and exchange these old heaps of junk for modern taxis? She thought annoyed.

  “Can’t you keep up with your colleague?” she asked, not even two minutes later and drummed against the glass partition.

  “That’s not my colleague — sorry,” the hunk replied with a wide grin. “The TX4 is a privately owned car, not a cab.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That the car belongs to a celebrity of some sort, can you see a vehicle number and license anywhere on the car?”

  Caprice leaned even further forwards. The cabbie was right: there was indeed no number on the rear of the car. She now remembered that many celebrities had privately purchased one of the famous London Black cabs, in order to cross the city incognito amongst the double decker buses and other black cabs. And they also made use of the special taxi traffic lanes to get from A to B, despite this being forbidden for unlicensed cabs.

  “Who are you chasing, Miss?” the hunk at the wheel asked via the intercom. As Caprice remained silent, he grinned. “You work for the tabloid press, don’t you?”

  “FLASH, Germany,” Caprice nodded “So — step on it — I’ll pay you double!”

  “Unfortunately, my cab is a slow heap of junk compared to that one,” the driver replied. “Who’s in there?”

  “A … an actor. I’m in London to interview him.”

  “Well, then that’s what you’ll do — all in due time, Miss.” The driver smiled.

  “You’ve got some nerve, Mister,” Caprice grumbled. Her facial features relaxed only slowly. The driver was probably right. All in due time. She had been invited to go to the press conference, so why get so stressed out today, a day that had begun far too early anyway?

  She suddenly had an idea of how to pass the time between now and the hotel check-in. From the backseat, she started eyeing up the driver. His large, yet slender hands rested calmly on the cab’s steering wheel. He was confidently guiding the cab through the dense traffic.

  His silhouette was indeed a handsome one — his skin was the color of a perfect blend of milk and chocolate. Caprice felt the urge to touch and taste this mixture with her lips. The tension she had been carrying for the past few hours finally fell away from her.

  “What time do you take your break?” she asked the driver and shot him a flirtatious look from beneath her lowered lashes as he looked back at her in the rearview mirror.

  She leaned back and spread her legs. The hem of her short dress slowly rode up higher so that she invited the man to a direct view of her pussy. When Caprice placed her right hand on her vagina and started playing with herself, the first beads of sweat started forming on the man’s forehead.

  “Is there an abandoned parking lot somewhere?” Caprice asked in a guttural voice.

  “Miss — we’re in the center of London,” he replied, glancing back at her through the rearview mirror.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Tyler.”

  “That’s a beautiful name, Tyler.” Caprice breathed heavily as her middle finger slid in between her labia. “How about spending a little time together, you and me?”

  “But … the meter …” Tyler attempted a half-hearted objection and pointed at the electronic taximeter.

  “Forget the meter. Tell your boss that the car’s broken. Wouldn’t even be that far-fetched with this old heap of junk.”

  “Understood, Miss,” Tyler nodded and tried to concentrate on the increasing traffic as they approached the center of town, which clearly proved more and more difficult with each passing mile. “I’ll find a suitable place,” he promised.

  “That’s the spirit,” Caprice stopped playing with herself and took out her voluptuous breasts. “You wouldn’t want me to come alone in a moving car in the middle of London, would you?”

  “No, Miss.” The driver shook his head with a slight smile and clicked on the blinker. He took an exit off the city’s highway, which lead into the green beltway that went around West London. They passed the sign for ‘Wimbledon,’ the part of London where Tennis stars like Boris Becker had celebrated their winning triumphs.

  Caprice smirked when she thought about how she could devour the taxi driver in this very historic area of town.

  As soon as Tyler had found a deserted parking space in a woodland area, he jumped into the back of the car and wasted no time as he massaged her breasts. He squeezed her nipples and enthusiastically played with her, before leaning over and sucking at her breasts. His right hands slid down to her groin. She was already dripping wet and as he gently touched her clit, Caprice groaned. Although she was already damn horny, she didn’
t want to come just yet. Caprice started working on getting his jeans undone and felt his mighty bulge. Her fingers skillfully unbuttoned his pants and reached for his manhood. Although Caprice had seen many a big cocks in her lifetime, this one was massive. She was momentarily unsure whether she could even fit that huge sausage in her and got even hotter just thinking about the challenge. As her thumb caressed his penis shaft, she could already feel the first drop of pre cum.

  “You need to wait a little bit, my stallion,” she gasped and pulled away from his soft caresses that were also pushing her to the edge of reason. Caprice leaned over his groin. His penis rose up in its oversized glory and bent towards her face. She let her tongue dance across his shimmering tip and wrapped her lips around his enormous piece, letting it slide as far down her mouth and throat as possible.

  Tyler groaned in pleasure from her touch. He dug into her copper red mane of curls and pushed his pelvis towards her.

  Caprice had to suppress her gag reflex two or three times. Tyler had already long taken control and pushed his cock deep into her throat while continuing to finger her lightly.

  When Caprice felt the salty taste of sperm, she stopped and looked up at him.

  “You’re not supposed to shoot your wad yet.” She gasped.

  “No, Miss.” He shook his head and pulled her up onto his groin with his muscular arms.

  A high-pitched yelp passed Caprice’s lips as she received him deep inside her.

  My god, she thought, his cock felt like heaven on earth. Size doesn’t matter they say? Yeah, right!

  Almost motionless, she sat on him and looked deep into his beautiful brown eyes. He reached for her breasts, started massaging them, and didn’t tire of teasing her nipples.

  Caprice didn’t dare ride him. She remained still while his cock pulsated deep inside her, stimulating her G-spot. She pushed her breasts into his face so that he couldn’t avoid kissing and sucking them.

  She massaged his spear with her inner muscles and felt him rearing up below her. When she could tell that he was in real danger of coming, she slid off his crotch.