A Ride Through the Past

Working as a sober driver at night, I accidentally picked up a Rolls-Royce ride.

The owner turned out to be my ex-boyfriend from seven years ago.

Anderson had one arm around a tipsy Judy, the other handing me the car keys.

I tugged my baseball cap lower, nervously took the keys, and prayed they wouldn't recognize me.

The car started, and the partition between the front and back seats slowly lowered.

Soon, Judy's languid moans drifted from the backseat.

Anderson's voice was filled with doting affection: "Can't you even wait for that?"