Latex Girls and the Cabi
I originally came from Afganistan. My family and I moved to the US before 9/11, in the summer of 2000. My first job in the United States was driving a taxi cab in San Francisco. It was hard work, but the pay was good compared to what was available in my home country, and it was very entertaining considering the clientele of San Francisco.
In the spring of 2000, after only working for a few months in this new country of mine, I encountered one of my most interesting and bizarre clients. I got a call that three girls needed a ride from just outside of the city to one of the shadier parts of town – an area with unconfirmed sex clubs, weekend fetish and gay parties, and all the other things I’d only heard of as a foreigner but never seen.
I picked up my first two clients, two girls ages 22 to 25, probably in college or just graduated. They appeared innocent enough, in blue jeans and summer tops. Before heading downtown we had to pick up their third friend and within a few minutes we had arrived at her house. The two exited the back of the cab, told me to wait, that they would be back in 10-15 minutes. I picked up a crossword puzzle I had been working on, and let the fare run as I waited for them to pile into the back.
Fifteen to twenty minutes and out from the house emerged three figures in the dusky night, their bodies glimmering under the peering light of the moon. My eye spotted the girls walking toward me, and I didn’t really take a good look at them until I had set my crossword puzzle down and looked up in the rearview mirror to see them enter the cab.
My eyes must have popped out of my head, because the girls saw the look on my face and giggled as I checked out their outfits. One girl wore a latex camisole top with lace and a short matching latex skirt with ruffles. For the most part, each girl was decked head to toe in shined up latex, patent vinyl boots or shoes, with spiked pvc purses holding the few belongings they toted with them. Surely they thought I was some goofy foreigner, but in Afganistan we don’t even have a word for “fetish”, and I had never seen anything like this before.
The curves of these innocent college girls had gone from innocent to seductive and sleek. My perception of them changed from quite and shy schoolgirls to mysterious seductive women, dangerous almost. We headed off into the night, the city ahead of us, as they wiggled and adjusted their latex outfits to conform to their every curve, or perhaps as there curves adjusted to the stretched rubber. .
I dropped them off, and although I had another client to pick up, I had to sit in wonderment for a few moments and watch them walk into the club. Their vinyl boots creaking, a latex dress reflecting the light from the street. All eyes were on them as they left the street and approached the busy sidewalk of a club, were music pounded and ryhmed to the beat that they seemingly set. .
To date I haven’t had any other clients wrapped in the seductive allure of latex clothing, although I have had a few covered in head to toe leather – you never know what you’re going to find in this city! .
