The Driver Who Wore Black Leather Gloves

“Why does he have black leather gloves on? On this hot day!” I said to myself… I knew somehow that this limousine driver was a bit off. There is something to be said about over doing it, dressing as if though you are the chauffeur for sherlock, the queen of states, or you’re in a Broadway, London calling kind of a play, so to speak. Thinking and dressing as if though a debut in New York is about to take place. Naturally for me, knowing all to well that none of the above is happening, I definitely stepped into the limo on this hot late afternoon making a mental baby note to myself that this driver may be a shifty grey character and that I need to be like a snake in my thoughts and plans for this journey of mine…and may have to be wary about this driver. In the decadent 80s, my shiny case was always on my person with combination lock for security. Again with my unmentionables and my pit stops in and out of the city, and touristy locations of luxury all while cruising in this large white limousine, as my pager and phone kept its own little rhythm all afternoon. The driver with the black leather gloves decided to speed through a red light, “Oh no!” just as I had come back from one of my rendezvous stops, and finished up with my visit with a very notorious person and not so legal supply in my case. First of all you do not, and should never go through red lights with a stretch…too damed long. So as I am sipping on champagne feeling high and enjoying my buzz and score at the same time, not to mention the fact that I left a sketchy situation already, in full celebratory mode as usual, enjoying my view from the backseat, the limo is being pulled over by a cop. Should have known better that the cop wanted Mr. glove wearing limousine driver, the car, and the client, to be searched. However, me always being paranoid when traveling with my shiny case alone and fully stocked. I always put everything and anything not for public viewing and or meant for display in a large clasp envelope, then place it in the brief case I carried with me. Oh how I loved these business envelopes! So… while blue lights are flashing rapidly and bouncing all up and down around in the limo, matching the quickened and nervous heartbeat in my chest… I cleverly stashed the clasped envelope, tucking it far up in front… under the limousine carpet, as I watched through the black tinted windows as the driver was talking to the police officer. Talk about a major buzzkill. I waited in the pilot seat of course anticipating my door to soon be opened by my black gloved driver, so that the police officer could give me the shake down. In the pit of my stomach, I just felt as if though this was  choreographed and planned earlier, based of course on my reputation and high profile usage of limousine services. The door opened letting the hot sun shine in , ruining the cool air con I was enjoying. Naturally I did not turn down the tunes as the officer motioned for me to kill the volume. Through my dark sunglasses I was focused in… more on the look of my chauffeur. I could read in the energy between both police officer and driver that they were so damed confident and mixed with curiosity of what was in my Halliburton. So anxious the two seemed for their bust and greedy heist. Me being so third eye ready, as they were both scanning the long limo interior, I decided to open my case in front of both them nonchalantly , because I had a suspicion I just might be asked to open it. All at once as I was getting my compact and lipstick to retouch out of the case, I saw jaws drop and heads being scratched and buddy chumming and shoulder rubbing. The universal sign of; Oh… Its not in there. Where is it? As quickly as it started, it ended. The police officer drove away, I put the partition down and told my driver that the next stop would be my last and I will be ending the charter. Shocked and bewildered he asked “Oh… I thought you needed me until the evening?” I replied; “You’ve wasted my time by going through a red light, and I can not have a driver that goes through red lights and wears black leather gloves that match the black leather gloves that police wear. By the way, are you a police?” He answered “No.” The limousine continued on to my final stop, I put the partition up, cranked the volume , scooted and hovered like a ninja to the front of the limo near to the partition, and pulled up the black carpet , reached down and pulled out the clasped envelop. Slid back smoothly to my pilot position and safely put my clasped envelop back in the Halliburton. Victory! My lesson learned. I never chartered a Limousine ever again where the driver wore black leather gloves.

To be continued …  A View from the Backseat


The Psycho Limousine Driver

On this electric evening, like all nights in the 80s it started out with a desired destination, pulsating to the tunes in the limousine, drinking and toasting to being alive, and of course, a mini celebration after picking up a childhood friend from the airport. I always felt like an heiress-tycoon when I mapped out the entire itinerary for the evening cruise. Champagne on ice, my shiny Halliburton … a holding case so organized and done with such a fetish like an organizational ritual on my part; with things inside… that I kind of want to keep to myself at this time. Three women, my favorite number when socializing and hanging out with loved ones. Perfumes always blended well in a stretch, adding to the olfactory, sexually aroused feeling that somehow I just naturally developed overtime in the backseat of a limo. After finishing our first bottle of champagne and now making our way in to town for dinner and later moon gazing on the beach, I politely asked my driver to take the freeway so that we could get into the city faster, remembering that “Time is money when you’re in a limo”, also knowing that on the freeway it would be a great opportunity to light up and enjoy the green green grass of love, compliments of my good friend Angel. It would be like a cute little inhaled appetizer. This is the time that you let go, the music resonates in your soul, and a little less conversation. The glow of the city lights illuminating the interior looking like Hollywood. You just feel real good. Until the chauffeur abruptly puts the privacy partition down and yelled at the top of his lungs like a crazy maniac. Oh my God! I said to my self, as my other two girlfriends I could see were frightened and in shock. He then accelerated the speed of the limousine, which is not done…unless in a movie. So we all screamed together holding on to our bodies in motion, swearing in unison. He pulled swiftly to the side of the freeway under an overpass to a sudden stop. Meanwhile cars are blazing by at speeds of 65 to 70 plus miles per hour. In his front seat with his big, pudgy, ugly body, and his faded tuxedo, no longer black, more of a green swampy color, and worn by the shoulder blade which I could see and have a permanent memory of. His receded and balding shiny sweaty head. He yelled with his tomato red face “I do not permit smoking of any illegal substances in my Limo! I will call the cops on you! Have you all arrested! I will leave all of you right now on the side of the freeway and you can figure out how the hell to get home… how do you like that! Which is it? take your pick?” Of course I was feeling very worried for my two girlfriends and responsible for there welfare. I could see how nervous they were. I had a sophisticated anger in me that actually worked as if though God giveth to me how to reply to this lunatic dangling on a hopeless fringe so that it would just close his distorted mouth, and forever change his world. Calmly I said to him, ‘Im very sorry for the misunderstanding sir, If you would like I can call the police myself with my mobile, I would be happy to talk to him as well, also this evening I planned on paying you cash instead of a credit card, and I need to get to an ATM machine.” He turned white and all of sudden regretfully panicked. He then replied, “Where is your next stop?” I said sternly… trying to hold back profanity and my temper, “Drop us off at the restaurant, indicated in the manifesto I gave you earlier in the evening.” While in route to our final destination I had made arrangements with another Limousine company. When we arrived I had absolutely no intentions of paying this driver… nor ever patronizing and or referring clients. The gravy train for this limousine company was over. Before hand, my usage of this limousine company was reliable booking, 4 times a week. Most limousine companies make contracts with large hotel bulk movements to have that kind of consistency. As I stepped out of the car with my girlfriends, he looked at me and said, “I’m sorry.” I turned away and didn’t pay. I looked to my two friends and said … “Now that is what I call a psycho limousine driver”

To be continued… A View from the Backseat


Being young, distraught and filled with anxiety… Thank God for Angels put on earth to love you in your darkest hour. Corporations and upstarts in the decadent 80s exploded with tons of money to be made. Changing of the guards/ CEOs happened like new flavors in a Baskin Robins sort of way.
On this evening, being young and in control always in the backseat of a limousine, a shakedown had occurred earlier in the day in my corporate life. By night, I needed my boyfriend to help me drink my champagne on ice, so I could poor out my tribulations and frustrations at the same time, but it was too difficult for him on a weekday to step outside his front door and join me in the white stretch; because 8:30PM on a weekday was too late, in his world.
Pulling out my little red book of names and numbers, I called an old friend of mine from school days. He wasn’t home and the young woman who answered the phone told me he would not be back for two hours.”He” was her boyfriend, but I didn’t know that at the time. She heard the disappointment in my voice along with deep sadness… filled with a long quiet pause… She then broke the silence and said “Are you ok?” I replied , “No…I’m not.” She said, “Whats wrong?” I said to her, “The company I work for has been shut down and my boyfriend cannot see me and I’m in the backseat of a limo with a bottle of champagne on ice and I just wanted to cruise.” A voice of sheer purity without jealousy of another woman’s voice… calling her man, that being my deep sultry voice on the phone replied … “Give me ten minutes to pluck my eyebrows and I’ll be happy to cruise with you and keep you company!” My heart felt overjoyed with an unusual sense of why this complete stranger on the phone  would have such an innate love and all knowing capability to feel my dark depression over the telephone. Joyful and excited to meet this woman I asked, “What is your name?” So that when my Limousine pulls up in front of your house, I will send the driver to escort you in and I will be waiting in the car for you.” She replied with a voice till this day I can never forget…pure childlike… loving and so comforting. She replied, “my name is Angel”

To be continued…A View from the Backseat

Sex with the Moonroof Open

The Driver pulled up on the hill,  in front of my house always arriving 15 to 30 minutes early. In the limousine industry, there are some drivers that aim to please and keep the client happy so that the satisfied  customer will request the same driver for another day. On this chartered affair of mine, it started out with tunes, alcohol, change of clothes, and lots of green baby backs… cold, hard cash, as it always did.  However most important for the journey is a full charge on the mobile device and the little black book , in this case , my book was red for the 80s. Feeling like a pimp, player, and a major dealer rolled in one, I kind of had a strong testosterone and estrogen level competing to cause in the mind and body at the same time, a sort of Disney like euphoric theme park ride happening in the anatomy within.  Pretty much like on top of the world. Like my own little movie world. Stopping at the liquor store to purchase champagne was the first stop; other unmentionables…  pick ups and orchestrations for all things illegal was done a day before the stretch came. Time is money in the white elephant, as I like to call it, known to others as a white limousine. Soon this would become a code word throughout the years to come. Calling my friends and picking them up at the door step gave me such an incredible high. The comfort and joy in their eyes once in the car all knowing that they could drink and party, and that I would return them back at their door step safely. This ritual, would soon become what I was known for, and what all my friends and acquaintances would come to expect. On this particular evening, the moon was full, the wind was a not a gust but more swirly, kind of a sexy wind. Not the kind of wind that just blows. I was feeling a bit like a guy in heat. I’m a woman… but there are times when the body just wants to go. I picked up my two friends, such a respected, adorable couple. Close friends, loyal people. The kind of friends that you barbecue  with, play volleyball,  go to the beach,  just real good courteous type. When the moon is full it is a big distraction for me. Brings out the inner animal, all things primitive and sexual, especially when the stretch is cliff side , music on,  moon roof open, flute in hand, sipping on champagne. Earlier in the evening of course , me being the master now at planning and timing limousine charters. I have to be on top of my game. Every minute in a limousine is totaled at the end of the night on top of a gratuity. I asked the driver  before we hit the coastline with the gorgeous cliffs and panoramic ocean view, to not stop the vehicle at any time, do not put the partition down at anytime, and that when you arrive at the secluded beach I instructed as our destination of the evening, to please keep the engine running and I will know we have arrived and I will call you from the car phone to let us out onto the beach. Its amazing how wonderful and so non complex it was for me on this evening to begin the seduction in the backseat with two people I love and adore , and I knew , they also loved and adored me as well. Scooting in was done on my part so sexy and in perfect rhythm to the music being played. Music from the 80s just always had a groove that made you feel like your hips belonged in someone else’s direction with a lovely grind to it.  I was so damned good at moving in a moving limousine. Naturally I kissed the girl and she liked it. Next the hand of her boyfriend caressed my breast, deep warm breathing , then the moaning, pressing in and feeling the heat of each others bodies bumping and grinding, the thrill and erotic stimulation of being so turned on and moist while in a limousine with the glow of the full moon illuminating the long leather seat. The ocean at a distance was exhilarating while the smell of night came through the open moonroof. Three people in heat, in the backseat of a limousine is and was an experience that can only , and honestly my friends happen once.

To be continued …  A View From the Backseat

The Drinking Generation

Eighteen with a screwdriver, right out of the liquor store, mixed, all stirred up and ready to drink. Wow! Along with many other blends and varieties to choose from. The fact that eighteen was the legal drinking age growing up it prepared me to understand very quickly at a young age …limits, consequences, and location, location. Meeting at the park late at night, deep in the forrest, high up on a mountain top passing the Jack and coke with a view to die for, feeling very primitive and all bonded and in love with your friends. Watching the sun set, waiting for the last family to leave on the beach, then exposing the mini bar in the cooler and letting it all hang out. Carefully planning a convergence on the estate when the entire family had a wedding to go to, and its party time. This one worked for awhile because it felt like rock and roll and why not I’m a female lead vocalist in a rock and roll band. Use the rehearsal studio when the band is not rehearsing, because I can, and I have the keys. Party like a rock star! Then it gets old. not the animal in you… but the manner and style of house parties and the setting , not to mention the dreaded “Can you drive?” question to your significant other at the end of the night. Lord have mercy.
This is the part where I wish I could press a button, kind of like that … you know… thumbs up button on your computer on your scrolling moments, that takes so much of your precious time away from you. Ok. I’ll stop, sorry thats another subject.
Imagine with me, if you can, picking the phone up, ordering for a limousine with my very own driver, requesting where I want to be picked up, for how many hours I will be using the stretch. No questions asked, except how will I be paying for this at the end of the night.
Do you know how addictions become fueled? Do you know that in life there are many addictions that occur in the human mindset, and it’s not always what you have been told, seen and or read about in magazines, documentaries, and in news letter pamphlets handed out to you, nor circle human meetings in buildings.

To be continued … A View from the Backseat

The Price of Independence

There’s an old saying… money can’t buy you happiness. Alright, yes, I think we all know this particular saying, and got that by the time we were in high school. Being passionate and loving, connecting to nature, our brothers and sisters, our inner sanctum, and core soul, as well as embodied in spirit cannot be purchased outright. Not at all. However, there’s this thing called life. Life as we live it, experience it, interacting with people, places and things. Our feelings, nothing more than what we give, receive, play, eat, make love to, speak to, and listen to. Quite amazing I must say. When you are young you have a picture imagination in full detail of how a love story should feel like when you grow up, but then, you grow up, you have cute little puppy love, going steady, square dancing moments, big green fields with laughter, joy, and pure innocence. Nothing hurts, nothing cuts like a knife. So magical. Like flying a kite over and over again, and that wonderful deep butterfly drop in your stomach, and exhilarating sensation you feel when the wind beneath the diamond sail in the air takes your kite, as you hold onto the handles with your cute little hands, to the next level in the sky and you hold on tight as if though you are in flight up there in the air so free and a steady control which feels so wonderful. What happened? What happened to that innocent feeling of freedom, being in love, yet in control, with certain magical lift that should happen like mother nature taking its course. You see, we are all different in our looks and what we like. Therefore, our receptors that receive and interpret words and or actions from others are different as well.
I guess what happens sometimes in relationships, if there is a misunderstanding or argument, certain individuals tend to throw things in your face, instead of talking about the actual incident, or what occurred to cause a bit of friction for the time being. At this young and very delicate time in my life, the decadent, chubby, all glorious and big 80s, this on and off again type of verbal abuse caused collateral damage in my heart and soul. Do you ever wonder why most individuals fight like that?
I found myself, so many times, for so many years in the passenger seat, while being driven home, being told of all the things wrong with me, and in the same verbal assault, all the things done for me, and I always had fear, anxiety, and of course tears that I swallowed. God, by the time I was dropped off, the incredible sadness that just cuts deep into the soul and spirit was within me. I asked myself time and time again, “Why do people say the things they do, what makes them feel that certain way, if only you could turn and walk away, damnation would be left for those who stayed.”” DON’T CRY.”
Here my friends, is where I started to have a two moon conjunction, that thing about “money can’t buy you happiness”… For me when money was spent, when I gave it, shared it, spread it around, put it where the mouth is to silence weapon like words, to see the joy on the face of others, I figured it out. Paying for a limousine not only buys you your very own mobile apartment with all amenities, including ice. This concept, this rental agreement contract also includes a gentleman who happens to be your very own chauffeur, that opens and closes your door, says “please, may I , and thank you.”Takes you anywhere you want, for as long as you want. The best part no verbal abuse, and that only money could buy.
Soon would begin my journey and the price of independence.

to be continued… A View From the Back Seat

The Epiphany

When you’re young, you feel the passion in real time , not after the fact. You can actually hear the universe speaking your name and the wind blowing is a stimulating coolant. When the driver opened the door in his three piece tuxedo , I felt like royalty, then immediately I thought to myself , should not  I have this same vibe in my mind when my boyfriend opens the car door for me when we go out on the town?

All alone I sat , surrounded by my thoughts and how my mind was slowly developing scenarios, scenes and orchestrations of new transportation without verbal abuse from a lover.

I wished and prayed and fought the growing reel to reel movie like pictures and thoughts in my head of absolute freedom and independence and my God ! The price I would need to pay to secure this feeling and never let it go, so that I can stop the pain , stop the suffering, stop the guilt  and the ugly black mass that I could not touch and remove from my heart and soul.

My mind became an automatic engineered human factory of how I could please please keep this feeling of travel from destination

A my home, my sanctuary my safe place, and get to destination B . The monies I would need to come up with to have my very own personal chauffeur/ driver.

to be continued…  A View from the Back seat