A beautiful violin in the throes of a torrid affair with a sexy saxophone comes close to leaving her husband, Bass.
Related Essay: “Adulteration”
The author discusses women’s hypocrisy when it comes to affairs.
Note to customers: Once you complete the transaction, you will be forwarded to a thank-you page, where you can download the story to your device.
Violin’s husband, Bass, admired his sultry wife as she prepared for that night’s gig at the Catalina Bar & Grill, a jazz lounge on the other side of town on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood. They both loved being played in Hollywood, in Echo Park and downtown L.A., but they preferred living on the Westside. While Culver City was gentrifying at a brisk pace, its groovy grit still oozed through the seams, and the ocean nearby provided the cool, salty air they both adored. From his chosen vantage point in the corner by the bay window in the low-lit bedroom, he surveyed Violin’s ritual primping. She applied rosin to her bow hairs, checked the tightness of her strings, rubbing in peg dope to avoid cracking, oiling her curvaceous contours, and parading before the mirror to survey herself from this angle and that. He gave her the thumbs-up sign as she sidled out the door, looking forward to her return later on because he’d planned something unusual (for him) to celebrate their ten years together—although it seemed she had forgotten what day it was. Never mind, he’d forgotten their anniversary plenty of times over the years! What he couldn’t know—so confident was he in the solidity of their relationship—was that Violin was in the throes of a tumultuous affair with a different kind of instrument.
To continue reading, please purchase and