Marty valets you to his front door

I've gotten used to my sudden charisma rather quickly, but it didn't make this car ride any less off-putting.

I sat in the passenger seat, my eyes on Marty who continued throughout the entire drive his same preoccupied stare, occasionally glancing toward me with a coquettish smile. Not at me, mind you - just what I could offer.

What a morning it's been. I'd barely had the chance to put on a shirt with Marty's impatience at the door. It's a humorous notion that the man who planned to beat me up for fucking his wife, was now driving us both there to make sure it happens again. I take an extra focus to the palms of my hand - a habit I picked up to check if I was dreaming. No sheep.

I'm thrown into the past - under a very different setting - as we pull up onto their gravel-drive suburbia home. It's been some time since my and Eve's last co-conspiring, the red-shuttered windows looking to have been repainted since. Out of the corner of my eye, Marty sits in silence as he watches me make my next move. Will I go inside? Will I wait for him to go get her? He didn't dare make any sort of infraction for fear I might pull out at the last minute. Hah.

"Are we gonna... go inside?" Marty chokes, breaking the silence.

"A minute." I voice distantly, the anticipation of meeting face-to-face with Eve again under such pretenses were draining away my confidence. Is this who I am, now? An empty-stomached player, who prioritizes another man's wife over his own breakfast?

My breath escapes me like a deflating balloon, as I steel myself, leaving the confines of their good-times Volvo, on to make new ones, I suppose. Marty shot out of the car ahead of me, fumbling with the keys to the front door in an attempt to remove said obstacle before I get there. He really wants this to happen. Their Pledge-scented home is pleasingly nostalgic, bringing back all the other times we'd fooled around while Marty was away. Why had we stopped seeing each other?

"Eve!" the elephant in the room calls out, "Come downstairs, please, I want to talk!"

There is silence for a moment, before I hear a shuffling of bed-springs I've had the pleasure to know intimately, and footsteps above approaching the stairs. "Martin?"

Eve, the naked epitome of sweet **** in the sheets. Gowned in a flattering lavender robe, loosely fitted to bring out the wide contour of her hips, obscuring the rest to the uninformed, save for the exposed flesh of her leg from the front. She stands posed at the top of the stairs, her dirty-blonde hair shone a faded red dye sparsely throughout her locks - it seems she had been trying to restore some of the impulsivity she had lost in her past. She remains with a facade of confidence before I step out from behind Marty, our eyes meeting to share the same telepathic thought; what the fuck was I doing here.

"John!" Eve gasps, shuffling her feet down the first two steps from the landing, as surprised as ever to see me and Marty standing in the same room, side by side.

"Hi, Eve." I murmur politely.

There must've been a fight pertaining to me recently, as Eve remains steady in her confusion about my presence, and her husband's subdued temper. "Marty, what's going on? Why is John here?"

She looks back at me to silently ask the same question. Why. Her eyes begged an answer to why I would willingly agree to this meeting, my turning up only to serve as a catalyst to more drama in their household. Marty takes a step forward, placing one hand on the railing.

"Eve, where are the kids right now?"

"They're... they've gone over to a friend's house - why, what's going on?"

I didn't believe there would be a way to say my intentions any more bluntly, but Marty somehow nails it.

"John is going to fuck you, Eve," Marty states matter-of-factly, "and I'm..."