by Jaden Tanner
“Good thing that your taxis are so spacious,” she smiled as she pulled the hem of her skirt over her hips. Then she kneeled down on the back seat next to him.
“Back in the day, a man could sit here with a top hat on,” were the words that crossed Tyler’s lips.
“Well, show me what you can do with your top hat, driver,” hissed Caprice and confidently presented him with her backside.
Tyler didn’t need to be asked twice. He kneeled down behind Caprice and indulged in the view of her plump ass beneath the hem of her red dress. Her pussy shimmered in anticipation and he couldn’t resist leaning forward and licking it. While his hands rested on her buttocks, his tongue encircled her pearl and caressed her crevice, and ever so often slipped into her with his tongue in a staccato like rhythm.
He’s a master of tongue play. I’m sure he can lick every woman to the brink of insanity, Caprice thought, grateful that she had jumped into his of all taxis. But before she could continue her train of thought, she felt his cock against her pussy. Tyler greedily thrust his mighty spear into her, grasped her hips and pulled her pelvis close to his.
A whimper crossed Caprice’s lips, but out here, a small forest parking lot, no one could hear her ecstatic screams. And even if some lost soul would come across this place, the windows had long ago been fogged up.
Tyler thrust into her faster now and Caprice felt like she was dying the sweetest of all deaths. She whimpered from the pleasure and pain his hard club was putting her through, bit into the backseat’s backrest, and prayed that he’d never stop fucking her. It didn’t take long until the waves of pleasure crashed over them and Tyler bestowed Caprice with a gigantic orgasm. When he finally came deep inside of her, she was already coming for the third time. This man is like a God, Caprice thought as she felt him pumping his cum inside of her.
Caprice collapsed weakly forward into the back-seat and felt something warm making its way out of her pussy and running down the inside of her thigh. This guy was incredible — he really knew how to fuck her properly and didn’t come early either. He had given her the highest form of pleasure with his gigantic spear. What a welcome to London she thought satisfied.
“You drive me crazy, you sexy bull,” she gasped and turned around. Tyler was still kneeling in front of her. When she saw his cock rocking up and down right in front of her face, she couldn’t help but lick the last drop from his tip.
He moaned, but pulled away from her tender fondling.
“I know how to do my job well, Miss,” Tyler winked. “Orders are orders.”
Caprice thought she hadn’t quite understood what he’d said. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve obviously done my job to your full satisfaction, Miss.”
“Does that mean you’re a fucking call boy?”
“Of course not,” Tyler shook his head.
“Well, after that performance, I’m not so sure …” Caprice hissed, filled with distrust. “Who are you?”
“Tyler Miller. And it’s my job to drive this cab. Every day. Not more and not less. But someone has booked me for a whole week.”
Caprice narrowed her eyes.
“And now, after we’ve fucked, may I know who your client is?”
“’Cinema Magic’ has booked me for the next few days.”
When Tyler saw that a deep wrinkle started forming between Caprice’s eyes, he quickly continued, “I’m an independent contractor, and the wheels have to keep turning. In our line of business, there’s nothing more lucrative than a job that lasts several days.”
“And you’re probably also happily married and are father to several children,” Caprice assumed.
“Nonsense.” He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t even have time for a girlfriend. Here and there I get involved in something, but a serious relationship? Forget it.”
“So — what have they paid you for?”
“I’m supposed to make sure that Robert Hatch reaches his hotel unhindered.”
“Well, you’ve succeeded there.” Caprice muttered. “What a coincidence that it was your cab that I stepped in front of when calling out for a cab …”
Tyler grinned. “Who says that was a coincidence?”
“What are you telling me, here?”
“That I was booked for a specific purpose, just like Tyler was, my colleague, who drove Hatch to his hotel.”
“And you were booked for what exact purpose? Surely not to distract me from my pursuit, darling …”
When Tyler remained silent, Caprice reached into his groin, grabbed his package and started massaging his flaccid penis. It didn’t take long for the spear to rise again.
“Okay,” he croaked. “You won’t let up before you know every last thing anyway.”
“That’s right,” Caprice nodded. She leaned forward and wrapped her lips around his penis shaft. When she could taste his juice, she started sucking greedily at his handsome manhood.
Tyler groaned and let his hands run through her mane. She abruptly paused her play and looked up at him demandingly. She had long guessed whom the second cab had been booked for.
“Alright … for Tom Petterson,” he gasped and pushed his pelvis towards her. “The production company had booked us to … Please don’t stop …” He broke off when Caprice continued to pleasure him with her lips. And he whimpered as she paused once more to get more information.
“And the two actors couldn’t share a cab?” Caprice thought this strategy was genius. As long as she was going down on him, she would get all the information she wanted out of him, so she continued with her torture.
“I’m not allowed to talk about it,” he gasped and closed his eyes, as Caprice continued her devilish game. When she slipped one of her hands under his scrotum and started gently massaging it, his cock pulsated in her mouth.
Another break and again he emitted a tortured groan.
“Alright, as you wish, then I’ll stop and you have to jerk off by yourself.” Caprice replied. She placed her head on his right thigh and looked up at him. Meanwhile, she massaged his nuts. His oversized member twitched in front of her eyes; the tip of the penis was already shiny with lust again.
“They hate each other — because … well, because they’re competitors in show business I guess,” Tyler said. “But no one can know about it.”
Caprice considered this for a moment. Obviously she had done her research in preparation of the press conference. All Internet sources claimed that Hatch and Petterson had a deep friendship. Sure, they were competitors when it came to film production but that didn’t hurt the close friendship the two young actors had.
Could it be that it was quite the opposite in reality and the friendship between the two only a charade for the public?
Caprice was looking forward to the press conference now, which she began to see in a completely different light.
“And why didn’t you pick up Peterson in the end?”
“Because he’d missed his flight from New York and will only arrive in London in the evening. So I drove back into the city without a passenger.”
“How nice.” Caprice’s gaze remained on Tyler’s humongous dick, which had extended to its full size. She couldn’t help herself and simply had to taste him once more. Tyler had come clean and it was now time for him to be rewarded …
***
The flight landed at Los Angeles International Airport at 1:30 p.m. Pacific Standard Time. The Theme building, the airport’s landmark shimmered in the afternoon sun, while the outlines of the rolling hills of California emerged in the background.
“That reminds me of a UFO that landed here,” John exclaimed. “Doesn’t that look like a spaceship straight out of Star Trek — look over there!”
Tired, Maren turned her head and nodded. “That’s Restaurant Encounter,” she explained, a bored look on her face. She had tried to sleep on the plane to compensate at least a little for the time difference. Her inner clock was telling her it was nighttime, even though they had landed in t
he early afternoon on the West Coast — she had lost about nine hours.
On the flight, John had busied himself with his camera and listened to music on his new mp3 player. Despite the time difference, he was really hyper. “I bought another couple of large memory cards especially, before we left.” He babbled on, while Maren accepted the keys and paperwork of the rental car that Lori had booked from Hamburg, at the rental company’s counter.
The car was parked in the middle of a large parking lot. John examined the car to make sure everything was in order and finally programed the address of the Saharan Motor Hotel on Sunset Boulevard into the GPS.
After they had stowed away their luggage in the trunk of the Chevrolet Cruze, John took the wheel and steered the hatchback limousine towards Santa Barbara. He played with the car stereo until he’d found a radio station he liked. Then he sang along, loudly and off key, and turned on the AC.
“This is awesome — at least the sun’s shining!” he said excitedly as their car passed a line of palm trees.
“It’s already pretty hot for this time of year.”
“It’s only 68 degrees.” John replied happily. “It just feels hot to you because we’re coming from the freezing and wet Hamburg winter.”
Maren decided to save her breath. Exhausted, she sank back into the softly cushioned seat and closed her eyes.
The brief rest period in the plane couldn’t compensate for the missing nine hours.
Once in the hotel, she was going to relax a little in order to be on full form again that night.
But first, they had an hour’s drive ahead of them.
John was completely unfazed. “First, we’ll head to the beach, right?” he suggested — his mood still far too positive for Maren’s taste.
She shook her head. “I want to get to the hotel and first regain my strength.” She muttered and blinked into the Southern Californian winter sunshine.
“Shame,” John pouted, but resigned himself to his fate. The rest of the trip passed by nearly in complete silence. It was only when the photographer drove the Cruze onto the hotel’s parking lot on Sunset Boulevard, that John found his voice again.
“Do you know if Lori got us a double room?”
Maren groaned. She assumed that he was referring to his sexy advances in the office from the previous day. “No,” she muttered and pushed open the passenger door, “Two single rooms is fine by me.”
***
Caprice was flabbergasted as Tyler drove his Black Cab up to ‘The Gore’ hotel, which the production company had booked out for the representatives of the press. The Union Jack billowed in the wind and two massive marble columns on either side of the grand entrance became visible.
“Here we are,” Tyler's sonorous voice sounded through the intercom. “190 Queen’s Gate, South Kensington. Small but very refined. You’ll love it.”
“How do you know?” Caprice replied. “Do you already know my tastes, chérie?”
Tyler was silent. After parking the taxi on the side of the road, he got out and walked around it to open the door for Caprice.
She stepped out onto the sidewalk and looked up the building’s façade. The Victorian appearance of the building with its white transom windows made her assume that the guestrooms would be rustic in style. No, that wasn’t really her style. But since the movie production company was paying for her stay here, she would find a way to pass the time in London. The four star hotel was only a stone’s throw from Hyde Park and the Royal Albert Hall, after all.
Caprice shivered. The rain had thoroughly drenched her sinfully expensive Gaultier dress within seconds. Tyler helped her with her luggage. Once she’d reached the hotel’s lobby, she attempted to pay the cab fare.
“I hope you didn’t let the meter run the whole time, darling,” she purred with a knowing look.
“Forget it,” Tyler refused. “We’re good.”
“Merci beaucoup.” Caprice quickly closed her bag with a snap. She fluttered her eyes one last time at him and then walked over to reception to check in. Contrary to her expectations, her room was made up and ready for occupancy.
Tyler remained standing a little to the side and waited for the check in formalities to be taken care of.
When a bellhop in a dark red uniform had accepted her luggage, holding the key card to her room in his hands, the driver stepped closer and bashfully cleared his throat.
“Will I see you again?”
“I don’t think you will, cherie,” Caprice purred. “We had our fun, and that has to be enough. Au revoir!” With that she turned on her heel and stepped into the elevator without backward glance at the sexy chauffeur.
***
Maren must have dozed off. She had only wanted to take a little rest on the big bed in her room in the Saharan Motor Hotel, when sleep had suddenly overpowered her.
The sound of knocking suddenly pulled her out of her dreams. When she awoke, it had already gotten dark outside. The colorful neon signs projected their bright lights onto the hotel room furniture. America was bright and colorful. Police sirens sounded in the distance and she felt a little as if she was in one of those typically American movies.
Maren felt like she’d been hit by a bus and the knocking sound wasn’t helping.
Jetlag had gotten to her after all!
After awhile, she finally realized that the knocking was coming from the door. It was probably John, already worried about her.
“One moment,” she called and shook off the rest of her tiredness, before rising and unsteadily walking over to open the door.
John Feyn was leaning against the doorframe with a coy smile. “Overslept, huh?”
“I’m afraid I did, yes.” Maren moved aside and motioned for him to enter. “Did you manage to sleep a little, too?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” John shook his head. “I can sleep when I’m dead. No, I explored Sunset Boulevard with my camera. We’re only a hop, skip, and jump away from the Kodak Theater here. No, I’d rather stay awake so I can get used to the time difference.”
“How enviable.” Maren’s throat was dry. She inspected the mini bar and pulled out an ice cold Coca Cola. “You want something, too?”
“Maybe a beer.” John sank into a seat by the window and looked out over the Los Angeles night sky. This wasn’t his first stay in Hollywood, but most of the time Stein preferred to buy photos off the U.S.-based agencies, rather than send over a photographer. God only knows why he was sending John and investing in the steep travel costs to accompany Maren now of all times. But it suited her fine — at least she didn’t have to cruise around town by herself.
She passed him a cold Budweiser and remained at the window, too. They toasted and took a sip.
“And?” Maren finally asked. “Which celeb have you already captured with your lens?”
“You won’t believe it,” John grinned.
“Robin Kingsbridge?”
“What’s your obsession with Kingsbridge?” John grumbled, sounding almost jealous.
“Honestly, I can’t explain it either,” Maren replied, a little too quickly, when she felt blood rushing to her face. “I just think he seems … likable.” He made a dismissive hand gesture.
“So, spit it out,” she said “Who did you encounter on Sunset Boulevard?”
“Chrissy Hilton.” John’s grin widened.
“The Chrissy Hilton?” Maren’s eyes widened. The actress was set to play the part of “Catherine Young,” the female lead in Dreams of Passion. After appearances on several TV shows, she had recently been cast in a couple of Hollywood movies. Critics around the world were predicting that her leading role in Dreams of Passion would be her big breakthrough.
“Yup.” John took a sip of his beer. “And that’s not all. I was able to convince her to do an exclusive photo shoot with me in her villa.”
“Yeah right! You can’t be serious.”
“That’s what you’d think but it’s true. I swear.”
“But you need all t
hat professional equipment if you want to photograph an actress like Chrissy Hilton — a flash unit, reflectors, assistants, a make-up artists, and God knows what else …”
“Let me worry about that,” John answered evasively. “I’ve already made the calls and got Stein to OK it too. He managed to book a mobile studio with everything I need from Hamburg.
“Hilton doesn’t allow just any old photographer into her home.” Maren pointed out. “To her, home is a refuge that only very few people are allowed to enter.”
“And I have been granted that privilege — we have to celebrate this!”
Maren nodded. Looking down at herself, she noticed that she was still wearing the same clothes she was wearing when they had left Hamburg. She suddenly felt unkempt in her pantsuit.
“Okay. But first I’ll have to freshen up a little.” She said, lost in thought.
“Sure — no problem.”
Maren lifted her suitcase onto the bed and flung it open. She quickly selected an outfit for the evening and reached for her wash bag before disappearing into the en-suite bathroom.
After Maren had laid her fresh clothes on the dumb waiter, she undressed and slipped under the shower. The water rained down on her, causing a delicious tingling on her skin. Within seconds, the glass walls of the shower were fogged up.
Maren started to recall everything she knew about Hilton. Although the rumors had persisted, the actress had nothing to do with the world famous hotel chain of the same name and the pampered heiress Paris. Maren remembered a report she had written about Chrissy Hilton for FLASH and searched her memory for the most important personal data, while she massaged the fruity shower gel into the skin of her slim body and slowly started to revive.
Hilton was born in Paris and grew up in England as a child of wealthy lawyers. After moving to the States, her parents divorced; soon after, Chrissy started getting some small supporting roles. Now her biggest coup was imminent — the leading role in Dreams of Passion. Up until now Hilton’s career had been completely scandal-free, apart from the usual naked photos that started haunting the internet, but then turned out to be more or less photo shopped. And now Chrissy Hilton had gotten the leading role in an erotic movie.