1. Roadside Assistance

Monday 4th May 2015

Newcastle International Airport

England

I carried my passenger’s suitcase and laptop bag into the terminal building and placed them on a trolley. He wasn’t infirm or old, but it was one of those simple tasks that I’d been told our clients appreciated.

He slipped a folded banknote into the top pocket of my black jacket and patted my shoulder. “Thank you, Nick. You’re a credit to your company, and I’ll tell your boss.”

“Thank you, Mr Marshall. Our primary role is ensuring that our service impresses our clients.” I paused. “I hope you have a pleasant flight.”

“I got plenty of work done on the journey here because it was a smooth ride, and I’m on a transatlantic flight next, so I’ll probably sleep. Goodnight, and drive safely.”

“Goodnight, Mr Marshall.” I nodded and turned back to where I’d parked the car. As I walked out, I slipped the tip from my pocket. “Twenty pounds. Not bad for doing my job.” I put it away in my wallet, looked to my right for oncoming vehicles and pressed the key fob as I walked across to the black Mercedes. The lights flashed and the courtesy lights stayed on.

I took off my jacket and hung it in the back, and as I got comfortable in the driver’s seat I removed my black tie and opened the top two buttons of my crisp white shirt. Being an executive car driver was a great job, and it was nice to look smart, but when the client was delivered at night, and there was no follow-up job, I liked to get comfortable.

I left the airport, and a few minutes later, I was on the A1, the main route north to Scotland. My next passenger was a pick-up in Renfrew at nine o’clock the next morning. The easiest route home was to head north to Edinburgh and then west to Glasgow on the M8, and on to Clydebank.

My flat was in Clydebank, so all I’d have to do in the morning was drive to the Erskine Bridge, and I’d be in Renfrew in no time. There was a filling station near where I lived, and I could fill up the car before going home. Strangely, my only concern was getting indoors before any of my neighbours saw me. There were only three other apartments in the block, but I’d managed to avoid meeting any of them in the short time I’d lived there. I didn’t want to socialise with the neighbours.

*

Tuesday 5th May

Renfrew

Scotland

I wore a robe while I had breakfast and shaved all over before showering. I was unrecognisable from my true persona when I dressed for Mr Carrick, my next passenger. I applied makeup, painted my nails, and wore a black bra, matching panties, hold-up stockings and high heels. I pulled on a white blouse and slipped into a short grey pleated skirt. I didn’t fix my long auburn hair into a ponytail as usual, but brushed it so it was draped over my shoulders.

To most people, apart from being kinky, they’d think my bit of role-play was silly, but it was what Mr Carrick wanted, and apart from him giving me a substantial tip, being en femme gave me a peculiar thrill. I drove carefully, but I felt I was more careful when crossdressed. I threw my bag into the car’s boot and set off to the pick-up location. I estimated it to be a fifteen-minute journey, and I already knew Mr Carrick wanted to be taken to Manchester.

Five minutes early, I pulled up at the address. I waited patiently for my passenger, knowing he was always punctual and travelled light, so he’d want me on time, and I knew he’d have minimal luggage. With only two minutes to go, I got out, checked that my outfit was presentable, and then stood beside the rear passenger door, feet together, and my hands lightly clasped to my front.

When Mr Carrick came out of the house, he was in a smart suit, carrying a briefcase and an overnight bag. He smiled as he approached the car.

“Good morning, Nicki.”

“Good morning, Mr Carrick,” I said and took his overnight bag before I opened the rear door for him. When he got inside and placed his briefcase on the seat beside him, I closed the door and put his overnight bag in the boot.

We were on the way to the southbound motorway five minutes later. There was no small talk on the early part of the journey because when we set off, I saw my passenger open his briefcase and pull out a handful of sheets of paper. My job was to take passengers to their destination in comfort and ensure they were happy with my service.

In the case of Mr Carrick, one aspect of the service was that he expected me to present smartly, but as a young woman. On one of my first trips driving him, he’d paid for my girly clothes, shoes and makeup and said it was how he wanted me dressed when I was transporting him from one place to another. When we’d discussed it, I’d initially said I wasn’t comfortable with crossdressing, but I agreed when he offered me a considerable financial incentive. I’d since driven him several times and always dressed in the way he wanted.

He would usually get some work done during the early part of the journey and then he’d talk about sex and associated subjects. His favourite thing with me was to suggest that I try things like wanking myself off when crossdressed. Another early suggestion was that I should apply makeup, wear sexy lingerie and heels, and give my cock a gentle rub in my panties, but not get carried away and have a wank. He said I ought to tease myself while wearing a variety of fabrics to see which one got me aroused, and I should hold off coming for as long as possible.

At first, I didn’t tell him I’d tried his ideas because admitting to wearing lingerie and heels was so embarrassing. When I rubbed my cock when when wearing lace panties it was amazing. It was even better when I also wore stockings, and high heels, and tried wanking in front of a full-length mirror. From that day onward, I wanted to tell him I’d tried his strange ideas for me.

I’d had my job for about six weeks, and I’d driven Mr Carrick a couple of times when he asked me to talk about the effect of trying his kinky suggestions. We were travelling along the motorway so I didn’t have to look at him in the rearview too often as I talked. It was difficult to open up about it at first, and then, just like the crossdressing, I started to enjoy it. As I told him what I’d done, he lounged in the back seat with his trousers and underwear down, wanking himself off.

*

Manchester

I waited in a nearby cafe while Mr Carrick attended his meeting, and while I sat in a booth having a sandwich and coffee, trying to be inconspicuous, I was aware of young men checking me out. It was a relief after two hours when my passenger entered the cafe and approached the table.

He slipped into the booth and waved the waitress away when she asked if he wanted anything.

“Nicki, I’m afraid my schedule has changed, so instead of returning to Glasgow, I have to visit Birmingham.”

“If you’d like to wait a few minutes, I’ll fetch the car.”

“How far away did you have to park?”

“I’m in a multi-storey car park about five minutes from here.”

“I’ll come with you, and we can deal with something else when we reach the car.”

We arrived at the car park, went up to the third floor, and both got into the car, but it was another half hour before we left the car park because my kinky client said he wanted to sit in the car, and have a wank, but quite different to previously.

On the journey, Mr Carrick busied himself with paperwork while I got him to his next appointment as rapidly and smoothly as possible. He made a brief telephone call during the journey, and was silent for a few minutes afterwards before speaking to me.

“Nicki, do you have anything lined up for tomorrow?”

“My boss told me to keep it free, although I don’t know why.”

“Okay, when you drop me off in Birmingham, you can return to Glasgow. I’ll have to be in Birmingham for at least two days, possibly three, and I can’t expect you to wait.”

*

I stopped for an evening snack at a services area on the way back to Scotland. Once again, while doing my best to act coy and feminine, I was aware of men looking at me. There was also a mature woman sitting alone who made it obvious she was checking me out. I was sorely tempted to grab another coffee and join her, but I worried she might not be so keen when she realised I wasn’t what I was pretending to be. 

Just before I crossed the Scottish border, there was a massive traffic jam due to an accident on the motorway. I didn’t want to sit for ages, so I took the next available slip road, having decided to use secondary roads to get to Glasgow. It was getting dark when I pulled into a lay-by to get some fresh air, pleased that the spot could only cater for two cars at the most. I sat in the darkness, waiting to see how much traffic went past. As it turned out, it was a quiet road.

I got out and took my bottle of flavoured water and, for a short while, strolled back and forth in the lay-by while only my car was parked there. After fifteen minutes to relax away from the driving seat, I got back in and closed the door. I glanced in my rearview mirror as a set of headlights lit up my car from behind, followed by a short burst of flashing blue lights. My heart skipped a beat.

Knuckles rapped on the window, and I lowered it.

“Good evening, officer,” I said in a soft voice.

“Good evening, Miss,” he said, shining a flashlight in my face and tracing it down my body and legs to my feet. “Are you alone?”

“Yes, I am, but everything is fine, thank you.”

“I’d like you to step out of the car, miss.” He was in his mid-thirties.

I was already panting and wishing he’d get a call to go somewhere else, but this was a remote road, and my car and I were giving him something to do. I pushed the door open and got out, remembering my posture, bringing my knees together before swinging my legs out. When I got out he closed the door and smiled at me, once again shining the flashlight on me and checking me out from head to toe.

He said, “Let’s go around to the passenger side, away from the road.”

I went first, and before he joined me, he went to his car and turned off the flashing blue lights and the headlights, leaving only sufficient light to see me and my car in front. He walked slowly towards me, and because of the lights I couldn’t see his face.

“Now, would you like to tell me why you’ve stopped here in the middle of nowhere?”

“I was about to get on my way again,” I said. “I left the motorway because of a traffic jam.”

“You’ve travelled about fifteen minutes from the motorway, and I’m sure a services area would have been available.”

“I like to get away from the traffic for a while.”

“And perhaps the general public, eh?” He lowered the flashlight, and I saw his face. He was handsome and smiling.

“I’d like to see your driver’s licence, please.”

“I’m sorry, officer, I’m not a—”

“Your driver’s licence, please … Miss.”

I opened the passenger door, and reached into the glovebox to lift out my documents, including my licence. Of course, it had my photo as well as my details. I handed it over and trembled as he played his flashlight over the small plastic card.

“What’s your name?”

“Nick Foster.”

“Would that be short for Nicola, or perhaps, Nicholas … Miss?”

I swallowed hard and whispered, “Nicholas.”

“And your age, Nicki?”

“I’m twenty-three.”

“Who owns this car, Nicki?”

“My boss owns it, and he has several, all used for executive passengers.”

“Would you like to explain why you’re parked here and dressed the way you are?”

To protect Mr Carrick’s name, I couldn’t tell him the truth, so I made up an excuse at the risk of him laughing at me. “I sometimes find a location like this so that I can dress up and—”

“Go on, and do what, exactly, Nicki?”

“I fantasise and … and I … I wank myself off.”

“Tell me about one of your fantasies.”

“It’s embarrassing.” I was desperately trying to think of a kinky fantasy.

“Your fantasies are embarrassing?” In the dim light of the side lights of his car I could see him smile. “Would you like me to remind you what you look like?”

“Okay,” I said, trying to come up with an idea. “I … I imagine that I have a male client who … who insists that I give him oral sex.”

“Have you been drinking, Nicki?”

“No, I wouldn’t drink when I’m driving. I’ll blow into a breathalyser if you like.”

“I don’t want you to blow into anything, Nicki … I want you to suck.”

“I thought you were supposed to blow into a breathalyser.”

“You do.” He stepped back. “Sit in the passenger seat facing me.”

I got in, keeping my legs together, but didn’t swing them inside. I looked up. “What do you—”

He reached back and opened the back door so he was standing between the two open doors, shielded from anyone else’s view. He lifted his jacket, undid his trousers and dropped them and his boxers. His cock was semi-hard and looked like it was getting stiffer.

I looked up. “What—”

“That’s my breathalyser, Nicki … and I want you to suck on it.” He paused. “If you pass my breathalyser test, I’ll let you go, but if you fail, I’ll have to report what I’ve found here.”

“Could I … could I just use my hands?”

“You can use your hands to begin, but if you don’t use your mouth, you’ll fail the test.”

“Please don’t make me—”

“Nicki, I’m not making you do anything. I’m giving you the option of not being arrested for propositioning me at the roadside while you were impersonating a woman.”

“I didn’t proposition ….” I stopped talking, realising my reluctance got him more aroused. His cock was almost upright and stiff. The head was a shiny bulbous tip to a long, thick shaft of flesh.

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do if it helps,” he said. “Let’s pretend that I’m the male client in your fantasy. You’ll be able to suck a real cock instead of using your imagination.”

“I couldn’t do that … and I don’t think I’d be able to—”

“Lift your skirt and pull down your knickers.”

I was lost whatever I did when I lifted my miniskirt and pulled down my knickers.

He said, “Your cock isn’t very big, but unless I’m mistaken, it’s a bit stiff.” He moved closer. “Stroke my cock a few times and get it in your mouth, you kinky sod.”

I reached out without looking up, and took his big cock in a loose grip. It was hot and hard.

“Don’t disappoint me now, Nicki. Start with a few gentle strokes and cup my balls.”

I started wanking him off with my right hand, and gently held his balls in my left hand.

“Good girl. Now, get some lipstick on my cock, and wrap your tongue around it.”

“I’ve never—”

“Suck it.” He held his shirt and jacket up and moved closer still.

Holding and stroking him was okay, but I wasn’t keen on taking him in my mouth., I leaned forward to kiss and lick the bulbous tip.

“Good girl, and now … part those lovely glossy lips … and lick under the head.”

I licked and kissed it again, and as I parted my lips to lick underneath, he used one hand to hold my head still as he jerked his hips forward. I got a mouthful of hot, hard flesh, and I wrapped my tongue around it. I sucked and bobbed my head up and down and continued to swirl my tongue around, tasting his pre-cum and sensing the rim of the head with my tongue.

I must have done a good job because he jerked his hips faster and groaned with pleasure. When he cried out, it was too late for me to get him out of my mouth, and his cream hit the back of my throat. He forced me to swallow all of it.

“That was fucking good, Nicki.” He quickly adjusted his clothing. “Now, you get away from here in the next five minutes, or I’ll ask a couple of my associates to check out this car.” He turned and strode to his patrol car, and two minutes later, I sat alone, tasting cum when I licked my lips. It had been embarrassing, but what made me feel even more peculiar was when I reached down and felt there was still a bulge in my panties. 

***