escort diary® of Elena De Armas: A ride to remember
Last night I was heading home from a date, my body still warm, still buzzing, when I slipped into a taxi.
And then I noticed him.
The driver. One arm resting on the wheel — solid, masculine — and that beard. Bloody hell. I couldn’t stop looking.
Every red light became an excuse to steal another glance. His profile. His low voice when he asked if I was having a good night.
Spoiler: it got a lot better right then.
I sat back, crossing my legs slowly, letting my mind wander where it probably shouldn’t.
“Pull over… or maybe, do you come upstairs?”
I was so turned on I had to bite my lip to stop myself smiling.
I kept asking him questions. Where he was from. If he worked late nights often.
And at one point, almost without thinking, I asked what time his shift finished.
You can imagine why.
I couldn’t stop watching his big hands, that strong arm, wondering what it would feel like if he held me properly.
Our eyes met in the rear-view mirror — for just a second too long.
When we arrived, the taxi stopped...
Do you guess what happened in the end?
