The Only Difference is the 'S'

I agreed to do the late shift because it suited me. My wife had run off with a neighbour, leaving me with a pile of bills to pay, and as a result all I was doing in the evenings was mooching about watching the television and seeing off cans of lager. So the chance to start work at four and finish at midnight for a twenty percent pay rise was welcome. And that was how I met Sam.

It was only my second week of lates and I was driving home on a bitterly cold night when I saw a girl standing at a bus stop. She was young and thin, dressed only in the skimpiest of clothes and I could see that she was shaking with cold. I had no idea if there were any buses running at that time of night, but in any case I couldn't leave a damsel in distress, so I pulled over and offered her a lift. It turned out that she lived only a half mile further on than me, so running her home was hardly inconvenient and it was worth it if only because it made me feel like the white knight.

She was so cold she could hardly fumble in her bag for a cigarette, but after a minute or two in the warmth of the car she began to relax and the shivering stopped. I looked sideways at her, appreciating what I saw. The first thing I noticed was that her makeup was a bit over the top for my taste, but I must admit that it was very skilfully applied, complete with a glitter eyeshadow that made her blue eyes seem even more alive. She tall for a girl, and very slim with hardly any boobs and long skinny legs -- certainly not the most feminine of women. But she also had one of those husky voices that ooze sex and make up for any physical shortcomings. Yes, she was attractive, and yes, I fancied screwing her.

As she warmed up she told me that her name was Sam, that she worked in a bar and that she'd jumped out of the cab supplied by her employer because the driver wanted more than the usual tip. He had apparently wanted a blow job instead.

"How do you know I won't?" I asked her, not completely sure myself if I was joking or fishing.