limited span of time, but it looked as if she had plenty of practice.
'Here we are! Just a little belated nuptial gift for the new Mr. and Mrs. Neptune. Oh, I do hope you like them, they're a matching pair. Quite rare too, apparently.'
'Why, thank you, Gigi. I'm quite overwhelmed.'
Gingerly, I untied the ribbon and opened the box. There, carefully protected by a large quantity of tissue paper, was what appeared to be a big black shiny phallus. It looked very familiar. Harry sniggered and I shot him a warning look. After all, it's the thought that counts, even if sometimes one wonders just what that thought was…
'Why, it's, um, very unusual…'
Mrs. Goldfinkel clapped her hands.
'It's a fetish! Eighteenth century, Pokipoki tribe. The dealer who sold it to me suggested that it (here Mrs. G blushed slightly and coughed modestly) is rumored to bring greater satisfaction to the fortunate owner.'
'Oh, I say!'
Harry had almost slithered to the floor with suppressed hilarity. I continued to ignore him. Bravely, I picked up the fetish and examined its polished ebony shaft. Actually, it was rather beautiful in a very rustic, visceral way. This wedding gift had potential. Much more fun than a pair of monogrammed bath robes. I gave the Black Widow a peck on the cheek.
'Thank you, Gigi! I shall treasure it. Come on, darling – open yours!'
With a Herculean effort, my dearly beloved ripped the ribbon off his matching package and pulled out a wad of tissue paper. I watched a sly smile curve his lips. Triumphantly, he pulled out another native artifact, carved from the same dense, dark wood.
'Well, I'll be blowed – it's a…'
At that point, Mrs. Goldfinkel rather swiftly and surprisingly clamped her hand over my husband's mouth.
'It's a matching fetish,' she stated, rather pointedly. Harry peeled the woman's fingers from his chin and examined his gift.
'It looks just like Elvira to me!'
The Black Widow tittered.
'Well, so long as dear Jay doesn't mind, I'm sure you can call it whatever you like! It is, um, supposed to have the same therapeutic effect as its matching piece.'
'I'll bet!'
I took the other fetish from Harry and admired the set together. No wonder he was reminded of Elvira. His part of the pair was essentially a beautifully carved and burnished black vulva, with fat swollen lips and a prominent clit. The piece was cylindrical, smoothly hollowed out as if to accept a thrusting cock. Of course!
I just couldn't resist. Reverently, I slid the penis into the vagina. Needless to say, it was a perfect fit. Then the oddest thing happened. A strange tingling sensation seemed to course through my body, from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, almost as if I had received a mild electric shock. Just for a moment, I felt quite peculiar. When I came to, Harry had ordered some drinks and a late lunch. Come to think of it, I was famished – perhaps that rum on an empty stomach had made me go a little queer. Not to forget the taxi ride.
'Biggin and Elvira. Well, thanks again, Mrs. G – this is certainly a gift to remember. I know I can speak for my dear wife when I say that we cherish our fetishes. Buck up, Lawrence, the crab cakes are coming.'
Another wave of electricity coursed through me and I swore I could feel my hair standing on end. The Black Widow stared at me as if I'd gone completely crazy.
'Mrs. Harry Neptune! It's time you got yourself some effective conditioner! Just look at what the sun is doing to your hair. I bet you took your hat off, didn't you? Naughty girl!'
There was a mirror on the wall beside our table. Reluctantly, I appraised the flushed apparition that met my worried gaze. It was true. My hair really was literally standing on end! I looked like a reject from that hippie musical, 'Hair.' Harry let out a guffaw and I promptly laid the copulating bookends down. The moment the objects left my grasp, my coiffure headed south. My husband roared and slapped his thigh in delight.
'How the hell did you do that?'
'I'm not sure, darling. I do feel rather odd.'
At that moment, I looked out into the sunny courtyard. Two familiar figures sat on a bench beside the gurgling fountain. I lifted my ring finger to point at Dunnett and Swat, who were deeply involved in what looked like a rather intense conversation. Harry's rather bloodshot (not to mention blackened) eyes followed my gesture then sharply returned to the fake knuckle-duster. It never fails to amaze me how unobservant men can be.
'Hmm, Barbie and Scrooge. Probably arguing over the drinks bill. Or maybe the bar staff tried to stick a paper parasol in his Glen Tipplet. Um, incidentally, what is that rock on your finger, Jaybird?'
The Black Widow tutted and I ignored her, stylishly lifting my newly arrived drink in an expansive and theatrical gesture, as if showing the world my magnificent ring.
'Isn't it stunning, sweetie? I just couldn't resist!'
Harry blanched, a forkful of crab cake paused en route to his gaping mouth. He appeared to have lost his appetite.
'Er, how much did you pay for that bauble? Can I pay for lunch or do we have to munch and run?'
I looked coy.
'Oh, I couldn't say. A girl never tells. After all, what price can one place upon true love?'
My husband put his fork down and took a steadying gulp of wine.
'Out with it, Lawrence. I want the facts.'
I was just about to confess the truth when our attention was distracted by a minor scuffle in the courtyard. It seemed Miss Swat had slapped the doctor's face. Well, well. A lovers' tiff? Seemed highly unlikely. She kept gesturing at her pneumatic boobs, today, modestly concealed beneath a jade green sun dress. How very odd. The intense patterns of light and shade in the garden almost suggested that Swat's chest was not entirely symmetrical, one breast a little higher than its twin. I took a pensive sip of the chilled white wine.
The Neptune brain had not resumed firing on all four cylinders after the interlude at the Watering Hole. In fact, it was burping along on one and a half. That was quite insufficient to assimilate and generate an intelligent response to a pair of ebony male and female parts with magical powers, Swat and Dunnett pummeling each other, and a rock that must have left a dent in my credit card the size of the Grand Canyon.
I worked out some priorities and settled on the rock.
'How much, Lawrence? Did you run out of ink before the zeroes were finished? Do I have to turn to a life of crime to get Mr. American and Mr. Express off my back? Out with it!'
'Turn to a life of crime? Return more like!'
'That's enough of that. We're in polite company. How much? Where did it come from? Where's the receipt? Sale or return, I hope.'
Mrs. Neptune sniffed.
'You'll find out when you get the statement. If you really loved me you wouldn't ask such questions! Heartless beast!'
Sniff again. Mrs. Goldfinkel looked on approvingly.
'You tell 'im, dear!'
I could have sworn the Black Widow dropped an aitch.
'Tell me!'
'Shan't!'
My wife turned her back and stuck her nose in the air. Mrs. Goldfinkel cackled and did likewise.
Seeing as no one wanted to face me, a drink seemed in order. I drained the wineglass and looked at it, unsatisfied. Chardonnay was no contest for St. Vincent rum, but there was only so much of that I could take. All the same, something more bracing was called for. I gestured to the waiter.
'Panty Ripper!'
My female companions swiveled back round and looked at the waiter with interest. He grinned.
'Coconut, white rum and pineapple juice,' he explained.
