Every Sunday morning for the past eleven weeks Brand and Emily Burke have been coming to the Blue Coyote Café. Brand brings a couple of sections of the Sunday paper: he reads the sports section and does the crossword puzzle. Emily reads popular novels and jots poetry in a small notebook. They each have a regular coffee and they split a whole wheat bagel, lightly toasted, one pat of butter. Brand gets the top half, Emily the bottom. The bill comes to $4.48, which Brand always pays for with a five. He drops the two quarters change in the tip jar and pockets the two pennies.

“How come you don’t tip the pennies, too?” Emily asks on this, the twelfth Sunday morning.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Brand says as they take their coffee and bagel to a table near the window. “Pennies are kind of, what’s the word, gauche?”

“I don’t think that’s the word you mean,” Emily says. “Gauche means vulgar. And besides, aren’t pennies supposed to be lucky? So by keeping them you’re being kind of piggy.”

Brand frowns. Then he reaches into his pocket and comes out with one of the coins. “Here,” he says, handing it to Emily. “Share and share alike.”

“Why thank you, kind sir, I shall treasure this always.” She kisses the penny, a theatrical kiss, and drops it into her book satchel.

“But I think I did sort of mean vulgar,” Brand says. “Actually, now that I think about it, I used to have fantasies about pennies.”

“Really? What kind of fantasies? Vulgar fantasies? Sex fantasies?”

Brand chuckles. “Far from it. Back when I was a kid and we were driving on family trips in the car and my parents were complaining about how the world was running out of oil, I’d dream that when I grew up I’d find a way to convert pennies into energy. Like I’d invent a car that used pennies instead of gasoline for fuel. In my fantasy, a couple of pennies would take you all the way to California and back.”

Emily smiles.

“You think I’m silly,” Brand says.

“No. I think your heart is in the right place. And thanks again for the penny. Now, if I ever need to get to California...”

Brand laughs. He opens up his newspaper while Emily butters the bagel.

Brand and Emily usually spend an hour in the café. Then on the drive home, Emily gives Brand a blowjob. It’s only eight blocks to their home, but Emily knows some tricks, and invariably she gets Brand to come in her mouth about the same time they’re pulling into the driveway. Leaving the newspapers in the car, Brand carries Emily into the house, lays her on the dining room table, removes her shoes, stocking, pants, and panties, and licks and laps her to orgasm. Then they finish undressing and go back to bed, where they cuddle and fuck until noon or so.

Today, they’ve been at the Blue Coyote for about an hour, when Emily looks up and finds Brand staring at her. “Penny for your thoughts?” she says.

“I’ve just been thinking,” he says, and he lowers his eyes.

“Oh?” Emily says.

Brand blushes.

“Now I’ve got to know,” Emily says. “What were you thinking about?”

“I’ve been thinking about our trip home. About how you you-know?”

Emily nods.

“And then at home I you-know and then we you-know.”

“I know,” Emily says, laughing. “What’s the matter? Don’t you like it?”

“Oh, I love it,” Brand says. “But...”

“But you’re tired of it? Of the you-know routine?”

“No,” Brand says. “But still, maybe sometime it would be nice to—I don’t know—do something a little different? So we don’t get in a rut?”

“What sort of different?” Emily asks.

Brand shrugs.

“Come on,” Emily says. “Spit it out.”

“I was thinking maybe...” Brand lowers his voice to a whisper, “ ... anal sex would be a nice change of pace.”

Emily frowns. Her lips purse. “You want me to fuck you in the ass?”

Brand chokes. “No, I just meant ... You know what I meant.”

“Oh.” Emily draws the word out. A tone of mock realization. “You want to fuck me in the ass.”

Brand nods. They’d never really done anal sex before. A little over a year ago, on the last night of their honeymoon, Brand got Emily to agree to try it. But it didn’t work. Emily was too tight, Brand too big. Brand made her sloppy with saliva, but he couldn’t get in.

“Why do you think it might work better this time?” Emily asks.

Again Brand shrugs. “I could use butter,” he suggests. “And go slower. And somehow get you to relax.”

“I see,” Emily says. “Okay.”

“Really?”

“You’re like a little boy.”

“But you’re willing to do it?”

Emily smiles. “I’m willing if you’re willing.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Brand says.

“Tit for tat,” Emily says. “Or tat for tit.”

“You mean you want to do me?”

“That would be fair.”