regret. Regretting doing this. Regretting not doing this. What if Elisa hated herself for doing this? What if she hated me for letting her? What do you do when fantasy and reality lie too far apart? I looked at my wife, looked for the answers, and in her eyes I could see that it was now or never, too close to the latter. I could see that she was ready, for the first and only time, maybe, to let this happen, and I knew that I had only that moment to make my decision.
“Do you want to or not?” Elisa asked me.
Of course I wanted to. For as long as I had been married to Elisa this had been my deepest desire, my most pervasive fantasy. But it had always been just that: a fantasy , things said in the heat of the moment, with the understanding that we never really intended to act upon them. Until now. I had no way of knowing what would happen if I said yes—I hadn’t even known Trey before tonight—and somehow that excited me even more.
Before I could say anything, Elisa saw Trey returning. “Do you love me?” she said quickly.
“Yes.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Then trust me, you’ll love this.”
“1967 Shelby Mustang GT500,” Trinh suddenly began to recite as we approached Raquel. “428-cubic-inch engine, two Holley 600 cfm four-barrel carburetors. 355 horsepower.” Trinh ran her fingers down Raquel’s fender and across the chrome Cobra badge. “Only two-thousand-forty-seven ever made.”
“Two-thousand-forty-eight,” I said.
As I produced the keys from my front pocket Trinh asked, “May I?” She was smiling, her hand outstretched. Trinh could sense my hesitation and said, “Not a scratch. I promise.”
Any other night, any other circumstances, I wouldn’t have even considered it, and I think Elisa was as surprised as I was when I handed over the keys and turned to quietly ask her, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” She nodded, but it wasn’t enough for me. “You don’t have to do this,” I said.
“Do you want me to?” Elisa said.
“I…yes.”
“Then I have to,” Elisa said, and then, as Trinh watched and waited, kissed me. It was a perfunctory, almost calculated kiss. Almost like the kiss she gave me when we got married, the “you-may-now-kiss-the-bride” kiss. The kind of kiss that was meant more for the people watching than the person receiving it. And I thought, then, of the vows we’d made before giving each other that kiss. Vows to love, cherish, and obey. And how, in some strange way, by letting happen what was surely about to, Elisa was honoring those vows.
Trinh told Elisa she would be riding in the back and Elisa obediently climbed in, followed immediately by Trey, his distended cock straining conspicuously against the front of his pants as if following Elisa of its own free will. Trinh slid behind the wheel, tugging at her skirt as she sat, and I walked around Raquel to the passenger side, Elisa watching me through the back glass, her eyes bright, childlike with anticipation.
I got in and Trinh hit the starter, Raquel rumbled to life, and we moved through the maze of one-way downtown streets, starting and stopping at traffic lights until the road opened up. Trinh wound her way through the gears, redlining every one as we got out on the highway, and I realized as I watched her that I had never been in Raquel’s passenger seat before, had never let anyone else drive her. And I started to notice things that I could only see from this point of view: the green glow the gauges cast on the driver’s face; the relative positions of the clutch and accelerator, the gearshift and the wheel; and how Trinh was almost too slight to use all four at the same time.
Trinh adjusted the rearview mirror until she and I could see Elisa and Trey in the blue shadows of the backseat, intermittent bands of light sweeping across their faces as we passed under streetlights. Trinh lit a cigarette, its red glow dancing across the interior of the car, and she
“Do you want to or not?” Elisa asked me.
Of course I wanted to. For as long as I had been married to Elisa this had been my deepest desire, my most pervasive fantasy. But it had always been just that: a fantasy , things said in the heat of the moment, with the understanding that we never really intended to act upon them. Until now. I had no way of knowing what would happen if I said yes—I hadn’t even known Trey before tonight—and somehow that excited me even more.
Before I could say anything, Elisa saw Trey returning. “Do you love me?” she said quickly.
“Yes.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Then trust me, you’ll love this.”
“1967 Shelby Mustang GT500,” Trinh suddenly began to recite as we approached Raquel. “428-cubic-inch engine, two Holley 600 cfm four-barrel carburetors. 355 horsepower.” Trinh ran her fingers down Raquel’s fender and across the chrome Cobra badge. “Only two-thousand-forty-seven ever made.”
“Two-thousand-forty-eight,” I said.
As I produced the keys from my front pocket Trinh asked, “May I?” She was smiling, her hand outstretched. Trinh could sense my hesitation and said, “Not a scratch. I promise.”
Any other night, any other circumstances, I wouldn’t have even considered it, and I think Elisa was as surprised as I was when I handed over the keys and turned to quietly ask her, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” She nodded, but it wasn’t enough for me. “You don’t have to do this,” I said.
“Do you want me to?” Elisa said.
“I…yes.”
“Then I have to,” Elisa said, and then, as Trinh watched and waited, kissed me. It was a perfunctory, almost calculated kiss. Almost like the kiss she gave me when we got married, the “you-may-now-kiss-the-bride” kiss. The kind of kiss that was meant more for the people watching than the person receiving it. And I thought, then, of the vows we’d made before giving each other that kiss. Vows to love, cherish, and obey. And how, in some strange way, by letting happen what was surely about to, Elisa was honoring those vows.
Trinh told Elisa she would be riding in the back and Elisa obediently climbed in, followed immediately by Trey, his distended cock straining conspicuously against the front of his pants as if following Elisa of its own free will. Trinh slid behind the wheel, tugging at her skirt as she sat, and I walked around Raquel to the passenger side, Elisa watching me through the back glass, her eyes bright, childlike with anticipation.
I got in and Trinh hit the starter, Raquel rumbled to life, and we moved through the maze of one-way downtown streets, starting and stopping at traffic lights until the road opened up. Trinh wound her way through the gears, redlining every one as we got out on the highway, and I realized as I watched her that I had never been in Raquel’s passenger seat before, had never let anyone else drive her. And I started to notice things that I could only see from this point of view: the green glow the gauges cast on the driver’s face; the relative positions of the clutch and accelerator, the gearshift and the wheel; and how Trinh was almost too slight to use all four at the same time.
Trinh adjusted the rearview mirror until she and I could see Elisa and Trey in the blue shadows of the backseat, intermittent bands of light sweeping across their faces as we passed under streetlights. Trinh lit a cigarette, its red glow dancing across the interior of the car, and she
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