She is wearing a bottle green dress and jet black hair pinned up. I compliment her on serious blink on her wrist, a modern number involving a stone that could be real if it wasn’t too early in the day.
Oh, she says, just a little present from my married lover. Not something I would buy myself, but he does have taste. Don’t tell my boyfriend though, she chuckles, with no real concern.
Don’t tell your boyfriend about the sugar daddy, or don’t tell him about the bracelet?
The boyfriend is not quite an exclusive affair, but I don’t spell out everything for him either. And the lover is not a sugar daddy, p l e a s e, I have a good job, he might splurge occasionally on a fancy hotel room and travel expense, a bit of jewelry here and there.
And how did you acquire the married lover?
She hesitates … meaningful pause building up. I point to the “judgement free zone” sign on the dash.
OK, she says, he might have been my boss at some point.
We let that information sink in.
And, how is his wife taking it, I ask, does she know?
Well, her family never quite approved of him, he told her, and they have nonexistent sex life, according to him, and he got his start working for his father in law, so it is understood…
Sure hope that the wife has a pool boy or someone, I interject. My passenger shrugs: He would probably freak out if his wife had someone on the side. He is one of those entertaining type A personality A-holes that are fun for a night at the time. Wound’t marry him if they paid me.
She jumps out in financial district late for her good job, and I sit there on red, watching the humanity march around as if with purpose.
Oh, she says, just a little present from my married lover. Not something I would buy myself, but he does have taste. Don’t tell my boyfriend though, she chuckles, with no real concern.
Don’t tell your boyfriend about the sugar daddy, or don’t tell him about the bracelet?
The boyfriend is not quite an exclusive affair, but I don’t spell out everything for him either. And the lover is not a sugar daddy, p l e a s e, I have a good job, he might splurge occasionally on a fancy hotel room and travel expense, a bit of jewelry here and there.
And how did you acquire the married lover?
She hesitates … meaningful pause building up. I point to the “judgement free zone” sign on the dash.
OK, she says, he might have been my boss at some point.
We let that information sink in.
And, how is his wife taking it, I ask, does she know?
Well, her family never quite approved of him, he told her, and they have nonexistent sex life, according to him, and he got his start working for his father in law, so it is understood…
Sure hope that the wife has a pool boy or someone, I interject. My passenger shrugs: He would probably freak out if his wife had someone on the side. He is one of those entertaining type A personality A-holes that are fun for a night at the time. Wound’t marry him if they paid me.
She jumps out in financial district late for her good job, and I sit there on red, watching the humanity march around as if with purpose.