were standing around, drinking bottled beer and staring at the dancer on the stage. I raised my gaze above the smoky throng and focused on the naked girl.
'Good heavens! What's she covered in?'
Biggin extricated a pair of spectacles from his shirt pocket. A short-sighted virgin Biggin. He polished them carefully, placed them on his nose and squinted at the stripper.
'That would appear to be honey, Mizz Bazookas.'
'Ooh, I say…'
The girl was tall, very dark skinned and completely naked. Her ebony skin was thickly coated with the sticky golden mess and she writhed upon a plastic covered couch, ecstatically massaging her heavy breasts. Her long, lean legs were parted wide, exposing her pussy to the cheering throng. Then I realized that there was a man's head between her legs. His face dipped down into her cunt and she grasped her ankles with purple-taloned hands and spread her thighs wide for the sailor's hungry mouth.
'I like it.'
My own naked pussy had begun to throb and, pushing my skirt up, I placed Biggin's dark hand on my ivory thigh. A topless girl with a mass of braided hair thrust a plastic ice cream tub under our noses. She bore a remarkable resemblance to the girl on stage or maybe the heat of the room had simply gone to my head. The tub was filled with money.
'All yo' can eat! Five bucks!'
I thought of sucking honey from a hot black cherry. Then again, it seemed I might have another cherry at hand to pop. I smiled coyly at Big Boy and he placed a greenback in the tub. Seductively, I stroked the inside of his thigh as the music throbbed and the stripper spread 'em for the gang. He seemed to have a baseball bat in the pocket of his pants.
'Is this a rough area, Mr. Biggin? You seem to be carrying protection.'
I swear Biggin blushed.
'I can't get protection to fit, Mizz Bazookas. That's my, um, erm…'
The topless waitress began to laugh and I withdrew my hand and crossed my legs. It rather looked as if I'd bitten off more than I could chew…
I rose for breath and swallowed a good dollop of honey. Delicious. And so was the honey. And the honey. I remembered her name now – Elvira. I took another lick then staggered to my feet to make room for the next licker.
The girl with the money tub kindly assisted me back to the bar and the bottle of rum. I patted her bottom with a sticky hand and she giggled.
'Thank you, my dear. Just swivel me round a little so I can maintain observation on the delectable Elvira.'
She giggled again.
'She no Elvira – I Elvira! You no remem'er? Oh Mistuh Neptoon! Yo' no remem'er?'
If I had been on the rum last time we met it was no wonder I didn't remember. I looked closely at Elvira then at the girl on the stage now being attended to by two matelots, one of them the muscle shirt. I looked back at Elvira and took a healthy slug of rum. When I could speak again I engaged a careful brain cell.
'Now, my dear, I shall be very diplomatic here. I can't think of any other way to say it though – I really can't tell you apart!'
Elvira threw back her head and laughed.
'That 'cos we twins! Twins! Like as peas in a pod! She Alvira, I Elvira!'
A memory came back to me of an octopus-like engagement in the back room of the Watering Hole a year or two before. I seem to recall being blindfolded and made to guess whose anatomy was pressed on or around me at any given moment. I took a great many guesses, and I have to confess I sometimes made a deliberate mistake to prolong the inquisition.
I put an arm round Elvira and planted a kiss on her full lips.
'Now I remember! Let's see, when we left off you were just about to…'
'Service!'
A familiar voice cut across the music and cheers appreciative of Alvira and her entourage. I twisted round and peered into the murk. Elvira caught me just before I twisted a twist too far and landed on the floor.
My wife waved an arm in the 'bring me a drink' gesture known by barmen the world over.
I looked guiltily at my watch and managed to make out the orientation and identity of the hands. Should I have been at the Lobster Pot by now? No, I had another ten minutes to make it. Why then had my newly betrothed tracked me down to this spot?
I saw her companion and had an inkling. Perhaps I was not in trouble after all.
He was large and black, in a gleaming white uniform. Very large and very black. For some reason though Miss Lawrence was keeping her hands to herself and had wrapped her legs in a reef knot.
'Who's the big feller?' I asked Elvira from the level of her breasts.
'That Leroy Biggin! He from Barbuda! They all big there! I meet him there when I work in Princess Di hotel!'
The inkling became a bigger inkling.
'A descriptive name, may I hazard a guess?'
Elvira giggled again.
'Ver' descriptive! He a big Biggin!'
The inkling became a certainty.
'Who dat wit' him? You know she?'
'But of course, my dear. Come and meet my wife.'
Elvira looked at me disbelievingly as I collared the rum bottle and steered a course for the Lawrence and Biggin table. By the time I got there Miss Lawrence was sipping a rum punch and Biggin was halfway down a Red Stripe.
I heard Miss Lawrence speak, with a slight catch in her voice.
'Is it true your people are – blessed – in proportion to your height?'
Biggin laughed and showed pearly white teeth.
'No ma'am, that ain't true. Why, if it were I would be ten feet tall!'
Miss Lawrence paled. Elvira sighed nostalgically beside me.
I fell into a chair at the table.
'Mrs. Neptune, meet Elvira. Elvira, meet my beloved wife Jay.'
Elvira held out a hand and Jay shook it.
'Pleased to meet you,' they said simultaneously.
Jay looked at me welcomingly.
I waved the rum bottle at the young lad. He took a slug without turning a hair.
'Well?' I said. 'Still time before we meet at the Lobster Pot. Are you going to have your bit of fun, then?'
'Er, Gigi will be waiting for us, and, er, I'm getting hungry, and, er, we don't want to keep Gigi waiting, and, er…' Jay started to push her chair back.
I watched, puzzled, then caught sight of Elvira's hand massaging Biggin's muscular thigh. I looked again. It wasn't his thigh. There was something sharing trouser space with his thigh, and winning the battle for occupancy. All became clear, and so did my mission.
'Now hold on,' I cried cheerily. 'The Black Widow can wait for a bit and knock back a margarita or twain. The back room's the place. Come on Elvira – lend a hand.'
Elvira and I took Miss Lawrence by her elbows and hustled her past the stage and the squirming Alvira with her sailors, through a beaded curtain, and into Eldine's spartan but clean and tidy back room. Biggin followed, with a slight limp.
'Harry…!' Jay looked wildly around her for escape.
