The Victim by Jonas Saul

of fares as pretty as her, unless he got the calls for the strip clubs in town after they closed. Seemed like he was always one of the last ones to the clubs though, missing the better looking girls. He always ended up with the dancers who were drunk or high.
     
    He tried to keep his eyes on the road. He wanted to give them privacy in his cab, but movement in his rearview mirror pulled his gaze toward the backseat time and again. Two blocks back, as the man leaned across her stomach and lowered below the seat, the woman had met Mike’s gaze in the mirror. Her top had sat open, both perky breasts completely exposed, sitting up at attention.
     
    Mike had yanked his eyes away fast. He’d expected to be chastised, screamed at for being a pervert. But none of that happened. Instead, when he looked back in the mirror, the woman smiled at him, moaned, licked her lips and rolled a finger around her nipple.
     
    Mike’s erection pushed to be released from his tight jeans. For the last two blocks, all he could do was stare in the mirror at the half-naked woman in the backseat of his cab while her male partner did something to her lower region. She stared back at Mike, teasing him, tempting him, asking him to join her with the look in her eyes.
     
    It was all he could do to watch the road. The intersection of Yonge and Bloor was coming up. He had a green light. As soon as he was through the light he would have to pull over and let his fare out. This was his last chance to memorize the beauty in the back seat of his cab for later.
     
    He looked in his mirror. She had both hands up, rolling her nipples between her thumb and forefinger, moaning even louder. She smiled and blew him a kiss. Mike smiled back.
     
    The light at Yonge changed to yellow. Even though he didn’t want to end this ride too soon, he could still make the light. Either that or jam the brakes on and knock the guy in the backseat around.
     
    He hit the gas. Just as he was about to enter the intersection, he looked in his mirror at the woman again.
     
    That was when she screamed.
     
    Not in ecstasy.
     
    In fear.
     

     
    Justin Flannagan was sick and tired of doing what he was told. Anna could go screw herself. She had cheated on him . Three years together, and all she ever wanted to do was control him and sleep around behind his back.
     
    “Change this, change that,” he said out loud to the empty car. “Why do you say it like that?” he said, mimicking her voice in a high nasal pitch. “Why can’t you be normal like other guys? Fuck normal and fuck you, Anna. I’m so done.”
     
    Three years and all he got was control, nagging, and bitching. Then he came home early and she had two guys in their bed. She chased him out to his run-down pickup truck in her bathrobe shouting something about how it wasn’t what he thought. She could explain everything.
     
    “Yeah, right. Explain that?” he had yelled after her. “There’s no explanation for that’ll ever make sense. We’re through. It’s over.”
     
    He’d jumped in his pickup and drove. It had been twenty minutes, and she had tried his cell phone seven times so far. He resolved to throw his cell out the window if she tried again. It was old and filled with pictures of her. Her image was on his screensaver and locked screen. He needed a new one anyway.
     
    “Go ahead, whore, call me again. Call me one more time and I’ll fucking throw this phone out the window. You will never see me again, bitch.”
     
    He continued west on Bloor, heading to the House of Lancaster. It was time for a little pussy for himself. He was going to get lap dance after lap dance on the bitch’s credit card. He’d already taken the maximum cash withdrawal on her card at the ATM. Now, with Anna’s money, he was going to buy pussy and no one would stop him.
     
    Then he planned a late dinner. Maybe he would get a massage at a parlor on her credit card. They take credit. He’d checked. Later, when Anna got the