Twists of Fate

Sometimes in our lives, events occur that you could never have expected, and in the most unexpected places. Hello, my name is Yulia, and I want to tell you my story. The incident that happened to me in England still stirs my mind. How could I end up in such a situation? How could I let myself be fooled so easily, since I always considered myself a smart girl? But let's take things in order.

So, as you already know, my name is. I don't want to boast, but truth is truth, I am a gorgeous girl. Not just gorgeous, but stunning. I have a beautiful figure, a pretty face, big breasts, a firm ass, and luxurious,

silky hair that I dye blonde. In short, I'm a typical dyed blonde, but I never considered myself stupid. I am the daughter of wealthy parents and was very careful in choosing my fiancé. I'm not a prude, and by the age of 26, I had quite a few relationships with both older men and my peers, but they were all from my circle, people with good means.

In the end, I settled on Andrei. A handsome young man. Love? Oh, please. I don't believe in love, and apparently belong to that type of woman who can't fall in love just like that if her man is poor. My fiancé is the son of a deputy, but he's not some brainless rich kid. His dad got him a good position, and Andrei, by all accounts, was also supposed to get into the Duma in the near future. To follow in his father's footsteps, so to speak. Several men always courted me simultaneously; with my looks, it was never difficult for me to charm them.

When the time came, and I realized it was time to get married, I chose Andrei as the most suitable candidate, especially since the guy seemed to be truly in love with me. So, having made my choice, I didn't regret it for a second. Andrei literally carries me in his arms, fulfills all my wishes. At the same time, he doesn't drink and earns decent money. I should be a happy woman. And I really was comfortable with Andrei, although I understand that I sometimes act like a real bitch with him, but I think that's exactly what hooked him.

Be that as it may, a recent incident in my life could destroy my happy life. The memory of it makes my whole body tremble, and I want to share it with you.

Recently, Andrei was invited to visit England by one of his friends, Viktor. Viktor is also the son of wealthy parents; I think his dad is some ambassador in a country with a hard-to-pronounce name. His dad earned enough money for his son to get married and move to England, marrying a foreigner. And so Viktor decided to introduce his new wife to his old friend's family and invited me and Andrei to his place for Christmas in England.

I didn't need much persuading, and after a short flight, we found ourselves in England. Viktor's house was located near London. It was a small, nice two-story cottage. I'll skip our meeting with Viktor and his wife because it has nothing to do with the incident that interests us. I'll just say that after sitting with our husbands for a bit, Viktor's wife and I went to our bedrooms, while Viktor and Andrei sat in the kitchen for a long time reminiscing about their college years. Tired from the flight, I quickly fell asleep, but the next morning, waking up, I felt fresh as a daisy.

I was immediately bursting with the desire to walk around London, and I started shaking my husband. But Andrei had a good drink with his old friend the night before to celebrate the meeting, so he categorically refused to get up.

"Yulka, take a taxi. Catch a taxi and go shopping by yourself!" he mumbled through his sleep. "I'm exhausted! I'll get up later and come meet you."

"Sleepyhead," I called my lazy husband, kissed him on the cheek, and started getting ready for the trip. It's even better that I'll walk around London and its suburbs alone. I'll slip through boutiques and shops, and no one will whine beside me that they're bored and it's time to go back, asking how long can one walk around shops and stare at all sorts of clothes and perfume, all that kind of thing.

I put money and everything necessary in my purse, put on a velveteen blouse with open sleeves, and a dark jacket over it. On my feet, I put on dark jeans and ankle boots. I must say that winter in England is more like autumn, so when I went outside, it wasn't cold, but still frosty and cool. I wasn't afraid of getting lost, as I had been abroad before and knew English perfectly. I walked to the nearest stop and started waiting for a taxi. I let a few suburban buses pass because I didn't want to use public transport; I wish I hadn't acted like a princess and had taken the bus to London. I simply couldn't have imagined what would happen to me in the next hour.

Finally, a dark cab with checkers appeared in the distance. A typical English taxi. I raised my hand and the taxi stopped next to me. In the driver's seat window, I saw a nice man, about fifty years old, with slightly graying hair.

"Alright love, where would you like to go?" he asked.

"Could you drive me to a shopping center or something as I need to do some Christmas shopping," I replied.

"Yeah, I think I know just the right place, hop in, I'll take you."

And I climbed into the back seat of the car. It was quite warm and cozy inside.

"Getting a bit cold out there today," said the driver.

"Yes, a little bit," I replied, settling onto the wide back seat and looking around. The interior was large and spacious; in the back, there was only one huge seat for passengers and a footrest in front of the seat. The interior itself was divided by a partition between the passenger and the driver. In the partition, there was a small window where only a head could fit through, and the driver communicated with the passenger through it. In general, a typical, ordinary English taxi.

I immediately liked that it was very warm in the taxi, but I didn't like that the seat was very dusty, as if the taxi hadn't been cleaned in a long time, so I immediately decided to be a bit fussy, showing my character, and reprimanded the driver.

"It's a bit dirty in the back here, don't you clean your taxi?"

"Sorry! I've been busy, I haven't had a chance to get it cleaned. I will probably get it done at the weekend," the driver apologized, and our conversation ended there.

We drove in silence for a while. I looked out the window, gazing at the English landscapes. Then the driver tried to start a conversation with me.

"Can I ask you, how old are you?"

"I'm 26," I replied, slightly puzzled.

"Thought you looked a bit younger than that, actually."

"Aww… Thank you…" It seems the old man is flirting with me, I thought.

"Are you married?"

"Yes. I'm married."

"Your husband doesn't mind you going out alone?"

"No, he's alright. He's happy that I have fun. He doesn't mind, I think."

"What's your name?"

"Julia!!!" I said my name in the English manner, Julia.

"That's a nice name."

"Thank you…"

"You've actually got a lovely pair of tits, love."

"Excuse me." At first, I didn't even understand what he asked, but when the meaning of the man's phrase dawned on me, I was in shock.

"Sorry, I just couldn't help noticing when I picked you up."

"It's a bit forward, isn't it?" On one hand, I was of course pleased to receive a compliment. But on the other hand, I was annoyed that it came from some old goat. Yes, my tits are indeed wonderful, big, size 4, any man's dream, but I admit, no one had ever talked to me so brazenly before, so I decided to talk less with this man, who now seemed like some kind of fool to me, and just look out the window, ignoring him.

"Just friendly chit-chat." Some friendly chit-chat, I thought, but remained silent and buried myself in the window.

Suddenly, the car turned off the road and pulled into the nearest gas station. The driver, as if nothing had happened, without saying a word, got out of the car and started refueling. I was even more shocked. He went to work without refueling? What kind of driver is this? Having frank conversations with me, stopping at a gas station, it seemed he was doing everything possible to piss me off. Well, definitely, a jerk!

At that moment, my mobile phone rang. It was my husband!

"Hello, Yul. You woke me up, now I can't fall back asleep," Andrei's voice came through the phone. "How are things going there?" "Yeah, I took a taxi," I started explaining. "And I got some strange driver. Flirts with me, then stopped at a gas station. I've never seen anything like it." "Flirts?" Andrei snorted. "How so?" "Well, he said I have great tits, hee, hee…" I laughed. "Wow, really…" Andrei was surprised, also half-jokingly, "well, I hope you didn't reciprocate…" "Yeah, right, what are you talking about. He's old, gray, and generally kind of nasty. I hope he still takes me to the shopping center? Are you getting up already?" "No, I'll sleep for another half hour, then I'll get in touch with you," Andrei said, yawning. "Well, you take care there, don't let yourself be offended, see you soon." "Bye!" I said and hung up.

A couple of minutes later, the driver got back in his seat and we set off.

"I'm sorry, is it normal when you have a customer that you stop for petrol?" I asked. The driver turned around and looked at me puzzled through the glass partition. I even felt somewhat awkward, and I added.

"I'm just asking if this is normal as I've not seen this before."

"It's quite normal, quite normal," the driver replied as if nothing had happened.

"Ok. If you say so. I just didn't know you were gonna stop off and get petrol."

"I couldn't have gone any further without getting some diesel, sorry about that," said the driver.

After some time, he spoke to me again.

"You are not from around here, are you, love?"

"No, I'm from Russia. From Moscow."

"Ooo"

"Just came to spend Christmas with my friends."

"There is another English custom that you might not be familiar with? If you flash a taxi driver your tits, he can't…"

"What? Once more, please? Sorry?" I couldn't believe my ears again.

"There is another English custom that you might not be familiar with? If you flash a taxi driver your tits, he can't charge you for the fare." It seemed the old goat couldn't get my tits out of his mind, and he was now openly hinting for me to show them to him. Go to hell, asshole, I thought then. But of course, I didn't say that.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, you get a free ride just for flashing your tits. Have you not heard of that custom before?"

"Really? O-oh!" I feigned delight.

"You will have more money to spend on Christmas presents."

"Yeah, that's right. But I don't need it. I have enough money. Thank you," I said proudly and turned to the window, making it clear that I wasn't going to talk about this topic anymore.

"They don't do it in Moscow."

"No!" I was starting to lose patience.

"I can't believe they haven't got this custom in Moscow."

And then I answered him quite rudely.

"No offense, I'm really not in the mood for small talk. Sorry!"

"Ok!" said the taxi driver and noticeably darkened.

Well, screw him, I thought.

It began to seem to me that we had been driving for a very long time, and there was still no shopping center in sight. It seemed we weren't getting closer to London but, on the contrary, were going to some backwater; there were more and more trees, passing some villages. But since I didn't know this area at all, I couldn't say for sure, yet a vague feeling that we were going the wrong way was already gnawing at me.

Suddenly, in some village, the driver stopped. Again, without saying a word, he got out and went into some building. I was completely stunned. Did he go to a store, I thought. What the hell is he even doing. No, he's definitely trying to provoke me. Well, I've never met such jerks. I sat in the car for about five minutes and was about to just get out and find another taxi. But the driver returned, and I couldn't wait to tell him everything I thought of him. He started moving, and I began to express my displeasure.

"I thought you were taking me to the shopping center, I mean you have stopped off twice now. And I need to get there."

The driver seemed completely unperturbed.

"I just needed to grab a paper," he replied.

"Could you do it afterwards?"

"It was on the way to the shopping center."

"I ain't happy."

"Well, what's the matter with you?"

"Considering I got in a taxi expecting to get to where I'm going and not for you to stop, get petrol, and your fucking paper." I wasn't shouting, but I was close to it. The driver had simply driven me to fury. And how would you feel in my place?

"Well, I'm back now, we're going now, don't worry about it." No, he was definitely mocking me. "Don't worry, we'll be there soon."

"I'm actually really annoyed."

"Just calm down!!! We'll be there soon!!!"

We drove in complete silence for a while longer, and then he apparently decided to finish me off.

"Sorry, I have lost a little bit! I was meant to have taken left back there."

"What? You know what, I hope you don't think I'm paying for your service?" I was no longer holding back and openly yelled at him.

"What do you mean not paying? Of course you would."

"Listen, I paid for a journey from where I was to the shopping center, not to the petrol station or your papers. And then for you to be going the wrong way." I listed all his screw-ups, counting on my fingers.

"Ok! I just think about where we are. I'll get us out of it."

"You're the worst taxi experience of my life," I concluded, and all red with anger, turned to the window again.

I was surprised that we were now driving not on asphalt but on a dirt road; there were no houses around, just trees and withered grass, and it seemed the road was only narrowing. I was in shock. Where are we going? And like any girl, I started to lament.__P