Trust Me

                                                  Trust Me
                                                                                         Marty Livingston
      “Of course you can trust me.  I care about you.  I would never do anything that

could hurt you.”

         “But Stanley, my father would be so angry if he knew.  That car is the center

of his world.  He spends all weekend polishing it.”

         Stanley placed his hands on Cheryl’s shoulders and looked in her eyes.  “We’ll

take good care of it.  He’ll never know we used it.  We’ll have it back in the garage

days before he gets back from his trip.”

         Cheryl’s pulse sped up and her shoulders tightened.  “I don’t know Stanley. 

He checks it over all the time.  The first thing he does when he gets home from a

trip is to start up the engine and listen to it purr.  He even looks at the mileage on

the odometer.”

         “I can disconnect the odometer so it doesn’t show a single mile.  We can have

such a great time.  I can see it now.  We drive up to the hotel and the valet opens

the door.  ‘Nice car sir,’ he says as he unloads our luggage.  It will be great.  The

whole weekend will be great.”

         “It scares me Stanley.  I’m okay with taking the cash from his draw.  I really

want to make you happy, but he would be so mad if he knew we touched his car. 

He’s crazy about that car.”

         Stanley smirked.  “I know.  It’s a toss up whether he would be more incensed

knowing the things I do with his daughter or finding out I touched his car.  I know. 

It would really change his attitude towards me.  So far he scorns me like I’m a

nothing.  He thinks he’s an almighty—“

         “He’s my daddy.  You can’t talk like that about him.  Please don’t.”

         “Okay Cheryl, I know how important he is to you, but I’m really looking forward

to this weekend and driving up in that super car.”

         “Stan, I’ll do anything for you, but we really have to be careful with the car.”

         “You can count on me.”

         The weekend was wonderful.  When they got home Cheryl and Stanley

thoroughly cleaned the car inside and out.  Stanley reset the odometer and they

made sure that the car was in exactly the same spot they took it from. 

        Late that night after a long passionate good night embrace, Stanley left for

home.  As he passed by the garage he lingered.  He went in, opened the car door,

unzipped his fly, and pissed all over the driver’s seat.