Bondage and restriction

The air inside the yellow cab hung heavy with the scent of artificial pine and stale cigarette smoke, the ventilation system humming a weak, rattle-filled tune. The streetlights outside smeared across the wet pavement in long, amber streaks, casting fleeting, distorted shadows across the vinyl seating. Baby Kay sat with her legs crossed, the sharp point of one stiletto heel digging into the rubber floor mat, her posture rigid and commanding despite the close quarters. Beside her, Danica was a dead weight, her head lolling against the partition, her blonde waves sticking to her damp forehead in chaotic strands. The driver, a man with a thick mustache and heavy-set brows that met in the middle, glanced up into his rearview mirror. His eyes, dark and critical, lingered on Danica’s slumped form with naked suspicion. He …

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