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Yes
No
Really?
Oh, but that’s too kind…
I really couldn’t…
Are you sure?
But I wouldn’t want to…
and
That’s too far out of your way.
But not once. Or twice. They have to dance this intricate dance for many rounds, with many iterations, all saying the same thing:
I’d love to drive your beautiful car, thank you.
I’m happy to loan it to you.
The end.
Why can it not be this easy? I don’t know how Lolly can bear it because I know she’s pulsing at the same rate as I am, and the only thing between her and me is a band of latex neither of us had the foresight to bring.
To an English tea party.
In the countryside.
Even I know I am insane.
Who brings a condom to a tea party? It feels like the opening to a lame joke I don’t know the punchline for.
“Pippa, it is time to go, no?” I’m impatient. Wanting to drop her at her digs or rooms or wherever it is Pippa wants to go. I can’t remember.
“Just a sec, Mariano, darling.”
I should get out and say goodbye, but my erection requires me to fold myself in half until it abates.
“You must come again.” Mrs. Hainbright is working the line, kissing her guests. She bends to see me. “You especially, Mr. Arias. I’m going to insist you come again.” I can’t tell if she’s deliberate or not, the emphasis falling on the word “come,” but I hear Lolly’s laugh from the other side of the driveway which confirms it. They all know.
Lolly finally has the keys to the Jaguar in her hand and is air-kissing the royal as if they’re old friends. “You’re sure?”
Then Pippa’s back at our car, Henrietta in tow, and I’m to be the taxi driver, it seems. I shift to the driver’s seat, careful not to reveal myself to the world.
“Hettie and I are going for a quick pint at thePort & Badger, if you want to come along? They have a line of local bitters that are just to die for.”
I have no lie prepared, but I need one. Now. “I’m going to turn out Whiskey.” It’s not entirely ridiculous to think I might go back to the barn and see to my horse. We have a demonstration in the morning, and I’m supposed to be training these people for the so-called “friendly polo match.”
“Oh, alright.” Pippa winks. “We’ll find our own way back from the pub, so don’t worry about coming back for us.”
“Are we really going to the drag this weekend?” Henrietta is tucked in the back of the car, knees to one side, not a hair out of place. She’s every bit the royal, even undercover.
“The drag?” I’m momentarily adrift and confused by the non-sequitur. What drag is she speaking of?
“The drag hunt.” Pippa comes to my rescue. “It’ll be jolly good fun.”
