Road Rage
by Elizabeth Cage. Hundreds of short stories and articles that have been published internationally. Her poetry has also been set to music by professional composers. Her most recent publication for adults is Kissing Velvet, a collection of short stories - Printed in Issue 4 of In The Buff

    Blazing heat and city traffic. Well, traffic jams. to be more precise. Not forgetting the stink of petrol fumes. A combination that always set Sam's stress levels shooting up, despite having spent the morning teaching a yoga class at the local fitness centre. All she wanted was to get home, put her feet up and slowly sip a long, cool, drink. With ice.
     "What do you think the bloody indicator's for?" she yelled as yet another driver cut into her lane. Typical man. God, they were so rude. Put them behind the wheel of a car and they transformed into raging territorial Neanderthals. She glanced at her watch. Almost midday. This was going to take ages, unless she took decisive action. Luckily, Sam knew the area well. So, at the next turning, she shot off down a side road, intending to take a short cut. Despite weaving her way through a network of minor roads, she was making good time until she found herself in a narrow street with double-parked cars on both sides. Cautiously, she made her way down the centre, hoping she wouldn't meet any other traffic. Then she spotted a large white van driving towards her.
     As she was nearly at the end of the street, Sam expected him to reverse into the one available parking space, allowing her to pass. But he didn't. He just kept coming.
     "Move, you moron," she cursed under her breath. If he didn't get out of her way soon, their vehicles would be almost touching. Why on earth didn't he reverse into the space and let her pass?
     Seconds later, they were both forced to stop, their front bumpers practically touching.
     "Would you please reverse?" she shouted through her open window.
     "You reverse." he retorted gruffly, his tattooed arm hanging over the door, his fingers drumming impatiently. She noticed that his head was shaved, and despite his clear blue eyes, he had a hard-boiled look about him.
     "But there's nowhere for me to go," she pointed out, trying to stay calm. Best to avoid confrontation in these situations.
     He pointed behind her. Surely he wasn't expecting her to reverse all the way back along the street and onto the main road?
     "I can't," she replied. "That would be dangerous."
     Not to mention illegal. Anyway, why should she?
     But to her amazement he just sat there, using his big van to try to intimidate her, the bully.
     "I can't," she repeated.
     He stared straight ahead, just waiting for her to move. This was ridiculous. Neither of them could go anywhere. Surely he would have to see sense As the minutes ticked by, anger welled up inside her. Sam hated reversing in narrow spaces, but if she didn't they would both be stuck. As he revved impatiently, she wondered if it was worth the hassle, trying to argue with a man like this. Sighing, she was about to put the car into reverse when he started hooting his horn. Then something snapped inside her. Calmly, Sam turned the key and switched her engine off.
     The van driver stared in disbelief as she picked up her newspaper and started to read. Ignoring his loud remonstrations, his shouting and swearing, Sam perused the women's section before moving on to the theatre reviews.
     "Move you silly tart," he yelled.
     "Fuck you!" she replied, her tone even.
     Narrowing his eyes, he edged his van so close that he was actually touching her bumper. Despite her apparently calm exterior, Sam was shaking inside but resolutely determined to stand her ground. Even so, her open-topped sports car wouldn't offer much protection if he decided to get nasty.
     "Right," he said. "Two can play that game." Everything went quiet as he switched his engine off.
     Anxiously, Sam wondered what would happen next. It was a blisteringly hot day, with not a hint of a breeze to cool things down. She was sweating. There they were, two opponents, just facing each other out. Glaring, he got out of his van and sat on the bonnet in his black vest and shorts. Sam noticed that he was tanned, with a muscular torso. She could imagine him lifting weights, showing off in the gym. Under different circumstances she could have fancied him. Definitely would have, in fact. But after the way he'd behaved, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a friendly word, let alone anything more than that.
     "You can't keep this up all day," he shouted.
     "Wanna bet?" she retorted furiously, more determined than ever. No way was she going to give in to this arrogant bastard.
     As she sat in her car, Sam became aware that her halter neck top was digging into her skin. What she wouldn't give to be diving into a swimming pool at this moment. Wiping sweat from her furrowed brow, she twisted her long blonde hair into a knot and fastened it behind her head with a scrunchie.
     They glared at each other, the sun beating down. She felt like she was in a western film. As the time ticked by, she was reminded of High Noon. Eventually, though, after ten minutes of this he began to relent. Realising his aggressive tactics hadn't achieved the desired effect, he adopted a more conciliatory tone.
     "Be reasonable, love," he pleaded. "My boss will kill me if I'm late with this delivery."
     "You should have thought of that," Sam retorted.
     He sighed. "This is getting boring." He stood up, wondering what to do next. She sensed he was now more anxious than she was. She was gaining the upper hand. "What do I have to do to persuade you?" he asked.
     "Say please."
     "Please," he muttered ungraciously.
     "That didn't sound very genuine."
     "Please," he repeated.
     "Pretty please. With bells on."
     He glared. "Don't push your luck, girlie."
     She glared back. "You move. I got here first." They were back to stalemate.
     "Looks like we're stuck, then."
     "Sure does."
     Finally he growled, swore at her and got back into his van. Slamming the door shut, he turned the key.
     "Yes, I've won," Sam crowed to herself.
     But there was no welcome throaty roar from his engine. He turned the key again. Nothing.
     "It won't start."
     "You're having me on," she said. "You're just saying that so I have to move my car."
     "Don't be so childish." He looked genuinely annoyed. "The bloody van's dead as a doorknob."
     "This is ridiculous." She couldn't let victory slip from her grasp, not when it was so close. "Let me see."
     Sam got out of her car, peered into the van. He turned the key again. There was nothing, not even the sound of the starter motor turning.
     "Does it have petrol?" she asked.
     "Of course it does, you silly tart. I know you women forget to put petrol in but-"
     "Hang on mate. Before you go into a sexist rant, I'm neither silly nor a tart."
     "Well, unless you're a mechanic, which I somehow doubt -"
     "I thought men were supposed to be the experts when it comes to all things vehicular."
     "What're you going on about?"
     "If you can't fix it, then call the AA or something."
     "I'm not in the AA."
     "The RAC then."
     He shook his head.
     "Typical man!" she exclaimed.
     "You really are pissing me off now," he said. "I've got a good mind to put you over my knee and -"
     "- Give me a good spanking?" Sam laughed derisively. "I'd like to see you try it." Their eyes locked, like two warriors about to do battle.
     "This isn't getting us anywhere," she said.
     "Oh, I don't know about that." And she noticed that his eyes had strayed to the beads of perspiration that had gathered in the little crevice between her breasts.
     "Keep your eyes on the job, buddy," she warned.
     "I'd better look under the bonnet," he said, adding hastily, "Not your bonnet, before you go off on one again, The van's bonnet."
     "I know what you meant," Sam insisted but as he leaned over to look at the engine and the various leads and plugs, her eyes lingered on the way the fabric of his shorts strained over his taut physique. What was it about a man wearing tight shorts? "Nice bum," she murmured under her breath.
     "I heard that," he muttered. "Now who's being sexist? Turn the key for me, will you? In the ignition," he added slowly, as if talking to an idiot.
     She flicked the key, but the engine was still dead.
     "Something must have become disconnected." He fiddled with a few wires, without success. "Looks like we really are stuck here," he said, shutting the bonnet with a sigh of resignation.
     By now, Sam's throat felt as if it was on fire. "I'm parched," she said. "Do you have anything to drink? Water? Tea, even?"
     "There's a can of coke in the glovebox," he said, straightening up.
     As she leaned over the passenger seat, Sam felt her short denim skirt move up her thighs.
     "Nice bum," he murmured.
     She smiled. "I suppose we're about even now."
     He smiled back, showing neat, white teeth.
     Sam took a swig of the coke, gulping so greedily that a jet of the fizzy brown liquid dripped down her chin and neck, splashing on her halter neck top.
     "You've spilled it," he remarked, not taking his eyes off her.
     "I don't care. I really needed that."
     "When you've finished, I'd like to quench my thirst too," he said.
     She handed him the half-drained can of coke but instead of taking it from her, he gripped her wrist, pulling her towards him. Their hot bodies collided, flesh on flesh. Sam gasped as he dipped his head, licked the sticky coke from her neck, her chin, around her lips.
     "That tastes good," he said, waiting to see how she would react. Perhaps he expected a slap round the face or a kick in the groin. He was grinning, baiting her. But it was his turn to be surprised when she grabbed the bulge in his shorts and squeezed.
     "Does it taste as good as this?" she asked.
     "You could always try it and see," he suggested.
     Who was calling who's bluff? Sam hesitated but one look at those mocking blue eyes decided it for her. She would wipe that smile off his smug face.
     "All righty." Roughly, Sam unzipped his flies and took hold of the already plump cock that was straining for release. As she brought her lips to the glistening tip, she felt it stiffen further in her firm grasp.
     "Bloody hell," he exclaimed as she sucked so hard that his eyes watered.
     "Want me to stop?" she asked, lifting her head curiously.
     "No, yes, no," he groaned.
     "Make your mind up."
     "No," he confirmed.
     "No, you won't make your mind up, or No, you don't want me to stop?"
     "Suck me dry, you bitch," he groaned, pushing her head down again.
     She gave him a thorough working over, using her tongue and lips on the tip, the shaft, grazing her teeth on the flesh that was both tender and hard at the same time. The pent-up frustrations of the past hour were at last finding release and his cock was the lucky recipient.
     After a while, he grabbed a handful of Sam's hair, yanked her head back, and said, grinning broadly, "I think you need a good seeing to, girlie."
     Putting his hands around her waist, he lifted her into the air and threw her across the bonnet of the van.
     "Christ, that's hot," she yelped as the heat from the sun-soaked metal burnt into her flesh.
     "Not as hot as your cunt will be," he retorted, pushing her skirt up around her hips and spreading her legs wide. As Sam lay sprawled across the bonnet, he buried his face between her thighs, and she trembled as she felt his tongue expertly explore her wet pussy. She writhed, trapped between the heat of the metal and the heat between her legs as he lapped greedily. She didn't care if anyone saw her like this. All she cared about was satisfying her immediate needs - for pleasure and the resolution of that pleasure. As her arms flailed, desperate for something to hang on to as she edged closer to her goal, he grabbed her wrists with his right hand and pinned them down above her head.
     "Fuck you," she panted, her breathing erratic.
     He lifted his head. "Fuck you, too," he whispered, running his free hand over her breasts, squeezing the hard, brown nipples. "And I'm going to."
     Then he was on top of her, pushing inside, stretching her, plunging into her welcoming depths. But it wasn't enough and she wrapped her legs around his broad back, pulling him further and deeper inside her. She swore and cursed at him while running her painted fingernails down his back, under his vest, carving red lines into the sunburnt flesh. In return, his mouth fell on her lips, her neck, her shoulders with an urgent passion, kissing, biting,. devouring. He serviced her with short, deep thrusts, holding her firmly in position. Their bodies were slippery from sweat and Sam thought they would both melt in the fiery heat.
     "Bastard," she screamed as she came the first time.
     As she exploded, he continued to fuck her harder, and she quickly felt herself on the edge once more. She was vaguely aware of car horns blaring loudly somewhere in the background but they couldn't compete with her screams of pleasure.
     "Typical woman, won't shut up," he grunted, pumping into her energetically.
     "Oi, you two sex maniacs!" yelled an angry voice in the distance. "Get out of the way. I've got a delivery to make."
     "Not until I've made my delivery," said Sam's jousting partner, shooting his load at last.
     "Typical man," she murmured, coming again.