” “Your husband?” She nodded. “So he saw us leave together?” “He did.” “He didn’t try to stop you?” She shook her head. “Why do ...ou do this?” “For the variety,” she replied. “And he lets you?” “He likes watching me get picked up.” “But he has to know.” “He knows. He likes me to get fucked and come home and tell him all about it.” “Why does he do that?” “Because he loves me. Because he wants me to have what we’ve just had.” “Is he some kind of weirdo?” “I don’t think so. It’s not like I’m going. Both of you.”I smiled a little and walked toward the sound of the rushing river.It was cold on the beach that day. Low clouds were being dragged across the sky like gray finger paint. The washed-out light made everything white. Small but angry waves continued their endless erosion of the coastline. People were scarce, leaving me to command a huge expanse of sand that more than adequately served as the Saharan desert.I was playing with my favorite Matchbox car, a Ford Escort decaled with. More

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