All parties are over 18. There are scenes of reluctant sex in this story and some light name-calling. If that makes you uncomfortable, please skip this story.
*****
As I waited for my ride, I lamented the death of our car. That rusted-out shell wasn't worth the pittance the wrecker paid me for the scrap metal in the end, and we still couldn't afford a new car, not while I was the only one working. My wife, Kendra, was off work on an extended health leave; her disability allowance was extremely low and we were having trouble meeting our debt obligations: credit cards, insurance, student loans, and more. In some ways, I thought, my wife was in worse shape than the car bad been, but I immediately felt bad for thinking that because she was also the love of my life. She struggled with depression and the last thing I wanted was to make her feel worse about it. I wanted to handle everything so she wouldn't have to worry.
Being without a car posed challenges and we needed to take taxis or city transit to get groceries and necessities. Unfortunately, I worked in a city about an hour from where we lived and my employer was not a big believer in working from home. Commuting daily by bus was expensive.
I laid all this out to one of my co-workers one day in the break room. Daniela said she had experienced similar problems when she had lived in one of the smaller towns outside the city. I knew the name of the place she had lived; it was actually on the same route as my own little town. She seemed to blush as she told me how she managed, but I didn't see why the subject of carpooling would redden her cheeks.
I asked with whom she had carpooled and she named off three men: Pete Kreisler, Ernie Chu and Scott Finn, all of them senior salesmen. I knew who they were, but only slightly. I'd met them in briefings and shared a few jokes over coffee and donuts. By strange coincidence, before we finished our coffees, Pete Kreisler wandered into the break room with an empty travel mug at just that moment we were discussing his carpool. He grinned at Daniela and she smiled back sheepishly. He set his cup down on the counter by the coffee maker and stepped toward her, holding out his arms.
Pete Kreisler was about six feet tall. He looked youthful but I knew he had been with the company for twenty years, so he was probably at least forty. He was smartly-dressed in his suit and tie, but he looked perfectly comfortable. His brown salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed and he was clean-shaven. His smile revealed perfect white teeth. A fresh scent of deodorant blossomed around him.
Daniela rose to meet Pete' embrace, and I noticed that his hands wandered very freely across her back and, for just an instant, down to her backside. She did not flinch, but gave Pete a quick peck on the cheek before leaning back out of his arms. Was that a slight shiver of pleasure that made her tremble?
"It's been too long, Daniela," Pete said.
Daniela nodded and spoke up quickly. "Would you believe I was just telling Sam here about your carpool?"
Pete raised an eyebrow and looked at me. He shook my hand and favoured me with his winning grin. His grip was hard and fast and he gave three shakes of my hand before letting go. It wasn't hard to see why he'd do well in sales; he was charm itself. He turned his attention back to Daniela.
"Telling him what about the carpool?"
"Oh, just that his place is on your old route," Daniela said it quickly as if to deny that she told me anything else about the transportation arrangements. "He's commuting on the bus right now." She told Peter which suburban town I lived in.
"The bus... does that still make you leave for work about three hours early to stop in every little one-horse town between there and the city?"
"Yeah; it's about an hour's drive to the city by car, but two-and-a-half by bus. Thanks to an early departure time, I get to work about an hour early."
"You could get an hour or almost two hours more sleep if you rode with us."
I thought I saw Daniela twitch slightly. I thought I detected a note of warning on her face, but it was quickly forgotten as Peter commanded my full attention at that moment.
Pete continued. "We've had an empty seat since Daniela moved into the city. It's yours if you want it."
I inquired about the costs involved, and Peter reassured me by quoting a more than fair cost that would save me a great deal on bus fare. I wrote down my address and gave it to him and asked when we would start. As it was Friday, he suggested we begin on Monday. So, it was agreed.
On Monday, when I came downstairs for breakfast, Kendra straightened my collar. She poured me my coffee and served toast. She had a cry about the fact that she was not working, "not contributing" as she said. I reassured her that she did contribute to us, we were fine and that she just needed this time to get better. It would work out. I used the carpool as an example of how things were getting better. We had more time together in the morning and the evening and it was going to cost less.
There was the honk of a horn outside, heard simultaneously with a text message notification. I checked my phone. I had added Peter to my contacts and his message came up. "Here."
I kissed my wife good-bye and told her I loved her and that I would call her through the day. Then I copped a feel inside her housecoat, which made her laugh. I picked up my briefcase and walked out to Pete's vehicle, now pulled up in the driveway.
I don't know one type of a car from another really, but Pete was driving some kind of black SUV with tinted windows. The passenger side window rolled down and I recognized Ernie Chu; he directed me to the back door. I got in and seated myself on the wide back seat. I was not alone back there: Scott Finn sat behind the driver.
I considered my fellow passengers. I had observed Pete's tall, dark and athletic physical presence on Friday. Seeing him now, sitting down, it was hard to remember that Ernie was shorter than Pete, only about five and a half feet tall, as I recalled from seeing him at the office. His dark hair was straight and framed a full, golden face. His black-rimmed glasses added a severity to his appearance belied by his easy smile. Scott was the youngest of the three and closest to my age; I'd guess he was about thirty. He had blond, curly hair and a wiry, slim physique. His face defaulted to a regrettable sneer and I wondered how he performed so well in Sales with that look on his face.
"Good morning," Peter said.
I said hi to everyone. We had all met, but Peter saw to it that we all remembered each other from various meetings.
Pete pulled out of the driveway, and as we backed on to the street, we saw my wife in her housecoat in the front window of the house waving goodbye to me. I waved back but I doubted she could see me through the tinted glass.
