It happens on a bitterly cold December morning.
Truly cold winters are rare in London and so nobody’s prepared for six inches of snow and hurricaine force winds. Least of all Anthony who manages to total his six day old Ferrari on his way to work. He doesn’t keep a fleet of cars any more, there’s no point in paying for the upkeep now most of his siblings have moved out, and so he has no choice but to flag down a taxi.
"I’m a peer of the realm," He tells the Indian driver imperiously when she asks why he’s even bothering to carry on his journey. “It’s my duty to attend all of the votes at the House of Lords.” She rolls her eyes but starts the car anyway.
"You're lucky I'm from Kashmir," The woman says in the poshest English accent Anthony has ever heard, so he doesn't think that's true. "I'm always prepared for snow."
"Right," Anthony slumps in his seat as he pulls out his phone. "How about I pay you an extra twenty to shut up?"
The woman glares at him through the rearview but remains silent all the way to Westminister. It's a long journey on a normal day, an hour at least by car, but it's double that when they have to navigate black ice and snow flurries and stupid pedestrians who think traffic lights don’t apply to them. By the time they pull up to the taxi rank outside of the House of Lords Anthony is desperate to get out.
"That'll be a hundred and sixty pounds, my lord."
Anthony doesn't look at the driver while he rummages in his briefcase for his wallet. He searches for nearly five minutes but can't find it anywhere. With a frown he searches his coat. "Something wrong?" The driver grumbles and Anthony huffs out a disbelieving laugh.
"I think I left my wallet in my car."
The woman frowns. "It's a hundred and sixty pound fare."
"I know that," Anthony searches the inside pockets of his coat and retrieves a fifty pound note. "Fuck." He leans forward and drops the note onto the woman’s lap from over his seat. "Here keep this. I'll just go and get some cash from one of my colleagues. Hastings usually keeps a stash of fifties in his office…"
Before Anthony can even touch the door, the locks click loudly. He tries to open it anyway.
"I don’t do IOUs, my lord," The woman folds her arms across her chest. "You either pay me now or we visit the nearest police station.”
"Come on I'm a peer, you know I'm good for the money!"
"I don't know anything about you except that you're rude." She glares at him and then starts the car. "Police station it is."
While Anthony is a stickler for duty it isn’t the only reason why he needs to be in Westminster today.
There are three votes on agricultural reform that he absolutely must try and influence for the benefit of his estate today. The lazy entitled twats he works with rarely attend when the weather is decent - they definitely won’t start today.
He can’t miss out on this once in a lifetime opportunity because of some arse of a taxi driver. “I'll do anything," his voice cracks, "whatever you want up to the value of a hundred and ten pounds. It's yours."
The driver laughs then stops suddenly when Anthony unbuttons his coat.
"What," she clears her throat. "What are you doing?"
"I don't have any money." He aggressively pulls off his coat, taking his tweed jacket along with it. "You won't let me get out to give you money. So oral sex is the only option."
“Oral,” She clears her throat again. "Oral sex?"
"I have dams," He throws one over the seat at her. It's mint flavoured according to the label, one of the free ones he pilfers from the table in his private GP’s waiting room whenever he’s waiting for the results of his monthly STD panel. "Put that on and I'll go down on you."
She’s so distracted by the dam she doesn't even look at Anthony when he climbs over to sit on the passenger side. That's good because it allows Anthony a bit of privacy to control his reaction as he realises, for the first time, how hot she is.
She is definitely not the kind of woman who needs to pay for sex but that hardly matters now. Anthony is firmly committed to the plan. "Look I am seriously late for work. If you don't want me to pay you back in oral then what do you want?"
She blinks up at him with wide eyes for a minute before tossing the dam back at him. He frowns for a second before she starts to unbutton her fly. "You want me to put it on?"
"With your mouth," Her voice sounds like broken glass as she pushes down her jeans and the scantiest lace panties Anthony has ever seen. She has fucking amazing legs, all long and toned and glistening like burnished copper. As he stares Anthony realises that of all the many women he has been with over the years, none of them were Indian. Absently he wonders why because he clearly has been missing out. "And you still owe me for the journey. My time is worth far more than orsl from an amateur. I'll pick you up when you finish tonight and you can pay off the rest on your back."
Anthony may roll his eyes but his heart races in excitement as he tears the dam packet. He can't believe he’s doing this but he’s too turned on now to stop.
Biting his lip he puts the dam carefully between his lips and leans over the gearbox, balancing his weight precariously onto his knees on the passenger side and his hands on the woman’s surprisingly firm thighs, and puts his mouth over a surprisingly plush vulva, covering and licking and sucking all at once. It’s uncomfortable because he’s trying not to put too much of his weight on her or cum in his pants because she smells gorgeous, like lillies, and her fingers stroking through his hair feel really fucking nice. Anthony has always loved having his hair played with.
"Shit," The driver gasps, just as much shock as lust. "Nobody's ever gone down on me before. Are you okay?"
Anthony hums into her tight vagina and slowly pulls back into a more comfortable distance, flattens his tongue as he goes, and her hips snap up involuntarily. It's hot enough that Anthony almost regrets the dam - if she's this responsive under latex how would she feel bare?
"Oh God," She hisses when Anthony slowly corkscrews his tongue deeper inside until his face is practically buried between her legs.
"Actually," He says with his mouth full in a voice that sounds like gravel, "my name is Anthony."
"Kate," She whimpers as he carefully mouths her clit. He sucks it once, twice, before Kate cums with a scream.
"I finish at four," Anthony tells her as he climbs into the back seat to gather his stuff. "If you're not here on the dot I'll assume the debt is paid off."
"I'll be here," Kate says quietly throwing him a pack of tissues before the door locks snap open. Anthony doesn't look at her as he scrambles out but his heart doesn’t stop racing for hours afterwards.