The ride to the city was something out of a dream.

George had a sleek silver Jaguar X, with a spacious and luxurious interior.  They seemed to be flying silently over the pavement rather than driving.  

"Would you like some music?" he asked.  

"Sure. Why not?" replied Honey.  

George hit a button and soon some light jazz came on.  Honey referred to such music as old fart music, but kept it to herself.  She needed George, at least for the moment.

She studied him as he drove.  He was clearly successful in life, but she detected a sadness in him, something missing that made him vulnerable.  Now just leave this poor man alone! Ask to be taken to the nearest police station! cautioned the Sour Schoolmarm.  Yeah...

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