Taxi Cab Confessions – By Elsie

The wet concrete crunches slightly under the force of John’s powerful walk, and the wind whips his hair in several directions, unsure of where to settle. The neon Vegas lights fizz softly, and the occasional car drives by, usually taxi cabs. The hour is quite late, and most people have retired to the land of unconsciousness, save for the prostitutes who attempt to lure him with cat calls and the addicts who wander aimlessly lurking for a score.

 

Oddly enough, he feels a kind of kindred link with these people, these so-called demoralized individuals who live in sin and strive for that which they do not have. But he does not judge them. Tonight, he is one of them. He knows the pain of accusatory stares. The unkind gossip. The feeling of knowing you can never be worthy, that you will always be inferior to those around you.

 

He will never be deserving of her love. Never be deserving of Marlena.

 

So he chooses to wallow in his self pity, and live as if he’ll die tomorrow, a notion he secretly wills to come true, but is too much of a coward to execute himself. A stern, a sad, a darkly meditative, a distrustful, if not desperate man did he become from recent occurrences, equivalent to a fearful dream. But alas, they passed on in the midst of reality.

 

Both his dark obsession and his marriage, his life, in losing battles of survival.

 

And what could he do, but pledge his faithful alliance in either one or the other?

 

And so he chose. And with that decision, came the pain. With that pain, John manifested himself into a revived version of his former self; the mercenary. Such a cold heartless man, devoid of warmth, consumed of ice. Or was he?

 

Despite the stone facade, inside he was dying…

 

And she would die alongside with him. John shrank from the bosom of Marlena, turning her away, scowling and muttering at everything in his path. He could see what it was doing to her, but he couldn’t stop, so caught up was he in his surroundings and lies. And in his mind’s eye, he could see the ruin his family was destined for, and nor could he stop this, despite his overmastering desire to attempt it.

 

The Dimera Legacy. His own soiled past. That’s all that could matter at the moment. There would be nothing else to broadside him from his trail of “noble” sacrifice. Not even Marlena. Every tear shed, every gasp taken, every word said in anger, was a tear in the quilt of their union.

 

But there was no turning back. No way to stop it. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

 

And every so often, a voice would speak, and tell him to submit to the forces that surrounded his ailing heart. To just love her, as it was always meant to be in the ancient tale; the romance of a lifetime.

 

And just as John would turn to the brighter side of life, the wickedness impaled within his blackened soul would soar, and he was lost. Little by little he was losing a piece of himself. He knew it and it frightened him to the very core. With this knowledge, John came to the conclusion that he could no longer love her in this state. But try as he might to fully distance himself from his angel of mercy, he couldn’t. She was under his skin, and he had to get away.

 

Physical distance spanning thousands of miles was all he could do to tear himself away successfully. Eventually he found himself wandering the alleys and dark corners of Las Vegas. An immoral pit of greed and despair. Matched nicely with the black shades he’s pulled over his heart.

 

Tonight, there had been a calling deep within. Since his awakening, something felt off, as if the creature within had tipped the scales in unbalance. It was bothersome and unnerving, and he used the day to escape its reach. He drank into oblivion. He hustled the gamblers. Flirted dangerously with the whores and casually allied himself with acquaintances with Dimera-esque motives.

 

But at the end of the day, it had all been a distraction. And in a city that where the even the rich and corrupt choose to sleep at some point, or perhaps just retire behind closed doors and fuck self proclaimed high class call girls, John found himself alone, with the distinct feeling of being watched.

 

Hailing a cab, he surrenders to ailing feet that had walked an eternity, and determines to return to his hotel. In the distance, he spots one, a generic yellow brand, and greets the female driver with a standard grin. Curious. He wasn’t expecting an elderly lady to be driving a taxi, especially in a place like Vegas at 4 am. Well, stranger things have happened. And a job is a job.

 

As he voices his desired destination, a man shouts in the distance, and the cab driver, Rita, as per her displayed identification, strains to see through the slightly wet glass. It is a man, who is half walking, half running, and attempting to reach them before they drive off. Rita the driver smiles and unlocks her doors to receive the new customer, who greets her with a breathless, “thanks,” and slides into the backseat next to John.

 

[random hotel] please,” he says in a low growl, as he rolls his head around and finally leaves it to rest on the window. He smells of cheap perfume, and his own colon. There are light scratches on his cheek and the buttons of his shirt are misaligned, as if he buttoned them in great haste. His skin is still flushed, though if it’s from running to catch the cab, or from what John suspects was the result of a good time, he doesn’t know.

 

The woman eyes the man next to John through her rear view mirror, “In a hurry?” It seems she too has noticed his state of disarray.

 

He snorts in humor, “Yeah, definitely.”

 

“Why’s that?” she prompts innocently.

 

“Man, is my wife gonna kill me.”

 

“Oh, you got a wife?”

 

“Yeah I got a wife. And she’s gonna kill me.”

 

“Yeah, I heard you say that a second ago.” Rita pauses and checks traffic briefly, “What, she don’t like you breaking curfew?”

 

All three occupants share a light chuckle, and the tension between strangers seems to ebb slightly, “Sure. That and the things she’ll suspect I’m doing.” Nervous laughter. “I’m out here on business, so I told her. But no, I came here for a good time. Without the old bat from hell breathing down my spine. She doesn’t trust me anymore, you see. Not after she caught me screwing her sister. Always going through my things. Looking for panties that aren’t hers. The coke she knows I could never give up.”

 

“Oh,” Rita says, but doesn’t accuse, “So should she be worried?” She smiles easily, and John has the distinct feeling that she’s either nosy, or just likes to talk.

 

“Well, as long as she don’t know, there ain’t nothing to hurt her,” he plays with the buttons on his shirt, and begins to button them properly. He smiles the smile of a satisfied man, and becomes nostalgic as his fingers play about the tiny scratches and the slight swelling of his bruised lips. “Man, you should have seen this girl.”

 

“Your wife?” a stupid question, Rita knows, but she must play into the conversation somehow.

 

“Nah. Just some girl I met here. Says she wants to be an actress,” the thought makes him laugh, “Don’t they all? She’s my bosses secretary. All breasts, and likes it dirty. But no brains. Not that it matters. It’s not her mind I’m fucking.”

 

“Instead of cheating, why don’t you just leave your wife?”

 

“I think at the end of the day, no matter how much I don’t like her. No matter how much I cheat on her, I’m selfish. And I’m not noble enough to give it all up. We’ve got two small kids. Babies really. And I know I’d never see them again. The situation is shit, but I can live with it.”

 

“It’s been like this for a few months. I think this girl wants a commitment. She knows I’m married, and she knows it’s just sex, but she tells me she loves me. I don’t know if I can take that. It’s like I got a motto: one man, many women.” Suddenly, he turns to John, “You got a woman?”

 

“Had.” John is reluctant to elaborate to strangers.

 

“What, you fuck her over too?”

 

A beat. “Something like that.”

 

There is silence, and Rita turns her attention to John, “I see you two are in the same boat here. You cheat on your wife too?”

 

Squinting his eyes a bit in a gesture of discomfort, he looks away, but answers truthfully, “Once. After we were married. The situation was… difficult.”

 

“I assume you and she are no longer together.”

 

“For her sake, I hope so,” Looks her square in the eye through the use of her rear view mirror, “I don’t deserve her. I never did. And I was a fool to think I could be worthy to receive her love.”

 

The silent passenger gave him a look that spoke volumes of his regret for him. He’d loved hard, and lost it all. The abrupt stopping of the car alerts him that he has arrived to his hotel. With a final glance to John, he speaks honestly, “Everyone thinks we’ve got problems, people like us. But you know what? Sometimes, you find you rather like things this way. I like this life. Maybe you do to.” Giving John a brief shake of the hand, he pays Rita quickly and runs a straight path to the hotel lobby, as the rain picks up.

 

Silent, John stares on, until he feels as if there is something in his numb hands. Looking down, he finds a small plastic bag, packed with what he identifies as cocaine. A present from a fellow stranger, a companion that floats along the sea of misery alongside him. Tucking it into his pocket, he settles himself into his seat. The woman is staring at him again. The silence must bother her. She must be searching for words to fill the empty pockets of noise.

 

“You still love her.” It was not a question.

 

“I do. Very much,” his tone is quiet and sincere, “but it’s for the best. She deserves more than me.”

 

“Here you are,” she changes the subject, as she pulls into the circular leading to the hotel. Eager to leave, John pulls a hundred dollar bill from his wallet, and without waiting for his change, he nods his thanks and leaves.

 

His reality blurs together in a swirl of colors as he makes his way. Fatigue is wearing him down, and the light rumble of his stomach reminds him that he has not eaten in some time. But food is not what he hungers. The one thing he truly wants he cannot have, and it will forever leave his belly dissatisfied.

 

Never before has he felt so alone. Even when surrounded by throngs of eager fools, the shadows shield him from light, and he finds himself unable to see outside his personal sphere.

 

Somehow, he is in his bathroom, and he is staring down at three small rows of coke he has laid out. To lose himself is becoming more attractive by the moment, and without thinking, he takes the ultimate plunge. One. Two. Three.

 

And he is soaring.

 

He feels disconnected somehow, and all the pleasantries of the past come to haunt him. But they do no mock him, but rather bring a euphoric sense of rightness into his battered soul. Everywhere he sees Marlena, reaching for him, and he can do nothing more than try to reach back.

 

Suddenly, she is ripped away, and John finds himself with a painful hard-on he can’t seem to control.

 

Now, John finds himself settled into a hot shower, searching for a physical release. He encircles the tingling flesh with both his hands, squeezing tightly, enjoying the raw stimulation.

 

Marlena-come-fuck-yes.

 

John smiles as his hands began to stroke the surface of his engorged flesh in earnest.

 

The edge was back, his eyes closed. Lowering his head, he begins to mumble. Fuckfuckfuckfuck..Other words, unintelligible even to himself as his hand pistons him to release. His scrotum contracts there on the edge, telling him he has only moments, but in this hypersensatized state he is only seconds away. Surprise opens his eyes as he lurches forward with his climax, a gurgling sound the only thing he can utter in release.

 

And it was over.

 

Nothing.

 

Masturbation seems to pale in comparison to the real thing, he can’t help but wonder. Especially after Marlena.

 

“Shame,” he sighs again as he adjusts himself into normalcy. He steps out of the shower and throws on a pair off loose pants that lay wrinkled near the door. “That could have been a really good one too.”

 

“Looks like you could use some help there,” a soft voice floats from the doorway.

 

John shakes his head. He looks down at the erection once again poking out of his trousers. “Don’t think so. I can reach it myself–and you won’t be touching me.” He pauses, looking at her with a pitifulness all his own. “Right?”

 

The smoldering look she gives him is not what he was expecting, “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

 

Was that an invitation? Glancing her over once more, the crooked grin of amusement she wears confirms his suspicions. It was definitely an invitation.

 

Slowly, she makes her way towards him. Stalking. Powerful. Confidante. Sensual. Sexy as hell.

 

But John makes no efforts towards her, keeping his hands firmly planted at his sides. Closing his eyes tightly, he pleads to her, “You shouldn’t be here. If you loved me-“

 

A sensually cruel laugh cuts him off, “You’re one to talk about love,” her long nails rake lightly about the hard planes of his back, as she circles him slowly, “If you weren’t such a goddamn *coward* you wouldn’t have left me without a word,” she pauses and steps directly in front of him, “you’re lucky I love you as much as I do. Any other woman wouldn’t have stood for that. But then again, I’m not any other woman.”

 

“No, you most certainly aren’t.”

 

Her confidence wavers, and her voice drops to nary above a whisper, “Please. John. Just love me.”

 

The light sheen of tears shows how close to the brink she is, and John cannot help but be proud of this incredible woman in front of him. She has searched for him, and come triumphant, and as she stands before him, resplendent in her beauty and strength, she is not afraid to show him vulnerability. She is not afraid to tell the truth.

 

It takes but a second to respond to her.

 

His mouth is hot, his breath on her face panting promises, declarations. She presses a kiss from him, eating his mouth, her own mouth burning from the sweet and the spice of him. His tongue is a silky counterpoint to the grit of his fresh stubble, grinding into her chin. They think of nothing, this is mindless.

 

Hands on her breasts, full palms squeezing. The heat of his skin right through her dress. Her hands are on his head, on his face, holding him. She inhales deeply, through her nose, pulling him into her, every part of him. She wants to enclose him, to enfold him. This was what it was to be with John; to be a sexual woman.

 

This is not the kind of love that nice, civilized socialites like them make in the 21st century. This is not the kind of love they have made before. John is biting her nipple, getting to her breast now exposed above the cut of her dress. The pressure between their hips is unbelievable. She thinks she is going to come.

 

She wants to go to the bedroom now. He can sense her urgency, as he shares in her desperation.

 

He crushes her to him in the circle of his huge arms as he carries her the short distance to the bed, and their mouths do not part the entire way. The hot breath coming from his nostrils blows hard across her cheek and his fingers ripple on her exposed skin. He is playing her like a flute.

 

When he hits the foot of the bed, Marlena slides from his grip, and lays herself upon the cool sheets of the bed before him. His gaze penetrates her very being, and she feels as if he is burning her soul.

 

Before John, is perhaps the most beautiful thing he has ever imagined. He sees a large bed, only a bright white sheet covering it. Marlena lays there on her back wearing a golden gown, a short satiny slip of a gown. One knee is raised exposing her smooth leg and thigh up to the hip, one arm drawn across her flat stomach. She pants, and her breasts rise and fall in a temptuous manner. Eyelids heavy with lust and lips rosy and swollen.

 

“You’re beautiful when you’re aroused,” he whispers, more to himself.

 

Rather than answer him, she beckons him with her eyes, and parts her legs slowly in invite him into their silky depths. John crawls before her, his hands gliding along the path from her calves to her thighs and beyond. Pushes her dress above her hips, and with her help, divest her of her gown to find her completely naked beneath. The prospect of her walking about the town sans panties is highly arousing.

 

A feeling comes over him then, a feeling that is warm and wonderful and is dangerously close to love, and he is unable to prevent himself from tasting her. She cries her approval, and he feels a swell of pride, that he is the only one that will ever hear her make those beautiful sounds. Well, excluding the neighbors of course.

 

She is slick and ready, pleading for completion. Rising above her, he dips his head to her and catches her lips with his, soft and fleeting. The passion is unbearable, flaring up between them like a bright flame. Marlena’s back arches toward him, and she curls her leg across his hip, a lovely, purely feminine sexual gesture that brings the blood pulsing back to his semi-flaccid penis.

 

They kiss hard, lost and sighing in their own little world, and Marlena moves to help John remove his pants once again, her hands passing over his chest in soft ripples and then down to his waist, where together they push the expensive material away, leaving nothing but slick skin on skin. Her eager hands pass over aching extremities, and he jumps and twitches at her touch, breaking the kiss.

 

Suddenly, they still, and their eyes lock, in anticipation of this moment.

 

“I love you,” they both speak, as one voice. One heart.

 

In a blur of quick motion, John thrusts, and he is inside, but he is still careful not to let her take too much of his weight. There is panting, shallow, hard. John finds her hand in the bed, and he slips his fingers through hers.

 

With her free hand, she holds John against herself, and guides him in a gentle rhythm, that is beginning to quickly spin out of control as they both seek their release.

 

Their motion is delicious, rocking from the pelvis in the same rhythm, their stomachs together, bonded by their musky, sexual perspiration, the hard muscle of his chest against the yielding flesh of her breasts, their nipples kissing with every movement. He dips his head to catch her lips with his, and she smiles, the faintest of smiles.

 

Marlena throws her head back and groans, clasping him even tighter into it, encouraging him to increase his speed. She curls into his shoulder, and then comes away, her face screwed up, when he feels her come, good and strong, gasping and shivering in his arms. She cries out, falling back to the pillows softly, her mouth still open in a gasp of pleasure.

 

John stills his motions slightly, but does not stop, and continues smoothly. Marlena holds on tight, she is working hard now, and the coziness of the bedroom has become heat. Perspiration beads on her forehead and on her chin now, mixing with John’s, and her face is strained with the effort. He strokes her face as she bites her lip, dropping her head, as John finally encounters his long awaited release. For a moment, his whole body seems to suck downward, into his loins, and he trembles in her arms and then bursts, an outbreak of pleasure that ripples through him, taking the glorious warmth of his penis throughout him in a wave of utter bliss. It sweeps him over the edge into a hard ejaculation, his body throbbing and stuttering, at first intense and then slowly dying away, leaving him panting and shivering.

 

With an inarticulate mumble, John collapses atop Marlena, also too spent for words.

 

It was glorious. It was beautiful. It was great sex.

 

As if connected by thoughts, a bubble of laughter springs forth, and then the other is laughing as well. The reality is too much, and the urgency witch they have been swept away with is so unbelievable, it’s humorous.

 

The laughter dies away as quick as it comes, “This feels so right,” Marlena murmurs, before coming in to press a soft kiss upon his left temple.

 

Her tone whispers secrets to him, summoning the unbidden memories of the sensations of kissing and touching her, of undressing and the sight of her naked skin, and the way that it made him feel. The taste of her kiss, of her skin.

 

And the pain of losing her. And that ache, that terrible, terrible ache.

 

He wonders if it was just the drug that is pushing his thoughts in this direction, whether tomorrow he will wake up with a sore head and a sense of horror at his actions, whether he will see her tomorrow and be unable to look her in the eye, knowing he has spoiled a very special relationship. Tomorrow morning when he realizes that nothing has changed, and he is still a beast in sheep’s clothing, will his mind be filled with thoughts of the moment he had taken her in their fit of passion? Or will he forget her, and throw himself into his past?

 

But she holds on, her gaze strong against his, her hand grasping his gently. She knows the way he is feeling. She has to.

 

Marlena curls elegant fingers through the rough patch of hair on his chest. She doesn’t look at him, but can sense his thoughts nonetheless, “It’s hard to let go, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes it is, Doc.”

 

“Well, that’s life.”

 

* * *

Several months later…

 

It’s a few minutes past 3 am, and Marlena cannot sleep. The baby she carries is restless, and makes a point to let her know in the most uncomfortable way possible. She rubs her belly in small fluid circles, in an attempt to settle the young one.

 

In an effort to be considerate, she slips quietly from the bed, as not to awaken John. Since coming back to Salem, he has worked hard at getting his life on track, including regaining control of his business ventures. Unfortunately, that ensures many nights spent crunching away at the office. Tonight is the first night in a string of days that John has spent in his own bed, and she wishes for John to rest. If he senses she is awake, he will undoubtedly awaken as well, and insist on seeing to her idle needs.

 

No, tonight, she would allow him to rest.

 

Making her way downstairs, she then decides to occupy herself with television. Unfortunately, the late night hour only offers a wide range of infomercials she has no interest in. But eventually, on HBO, she settles on a show of the non-commercial variety.

 

It starts off rather bland, a male cab driver is interviewing his passengers on what she assumes to be a hidden camera. One in particular is an ungodly looking female, but later she discovers it is actually a “plain old little simple transsexual call girl.” It is tawdry, but Marlena can’t help but watch. It has the allure of a scandalous talk show and a train wreck combined.

 

Suddenly, the clip is over, and another begins. This time the driver is female, and her passengers are both male. One is hidden in the shadows, but there is a strong sense of familiarity. He doesn’t talk, as the other is the subject of this particular expose.

 

And then, the other man moves into the low light, and Marlena can no longer breathe.

 

“John!!”