her ankles. Her feet were clothed in fetching hospital issue bed-socks.
'I guess there wasn't much to choose from in the sick bay and Dunnett was too mean to let her pinch his scrubs. Come along, Mrs. Neptune. I spy the Droners in drag. Let's go have some sport.'
'Not to mention a nice cold drink.'
I plucked a couple of tall glasses from a tray born by a passing steward in a tangerine mini-dress. He smiled, an outlandish apparition in a Cleopatra wig and heavy false eyelashes.
'May I be so bold as to suggest that you sip those slowly, madam. It's a new creation of Ramon, our head bar steward, called a Hermaphrodite. Quite a potent little concoction.'
'Sounds divine!'
I clasped the drinks in my hot little hands as I followed Harry through the smoky, noisy crowd. Passing close behind Dunnett and Swat, I overheard a snatch of another intense conversation.
'You sure this get-up will bring 'em back again? I can't hardly breathe.'
The Lush's dulcet southern belle tones appeared to have taken a quick trip to Brooklyn.
'It should help. If not, well, we'll have to consider a remodel job. I'm afraid it will mean some reduction in size.'
'As if I'd let you at me with a knife again! I wanna refund!'
My eyes opened wide and I melted further into the milling throng, thoughtfully taking a sip of my Hermaphrodite. It was quite delicious, a subtle melange of tropical fruit flavors with what seemed to be just a hint of cream and chocolate. Mmm.
The Boner-Drippits were rather artlessly attempting to schmooze Mr. Deal of Signonthedotted Publishing. Will's face darkened as Harry approached and Frippery frowned.
'We're talking bithneth, Harry. Can't you come back later?'
A wicked glint entered my partner's eyes.
'Later? Why, I wouldn't want to take up any of your spanking time, Mrs. Boner. No, I think now is as good a time as any.'
'Thpanking?'
I looked very closely at Frippery. She wore one of Boner's old suits (I recognized the patches on the elbows) and a profoundly bemused expression. If he really hadn't initiated her in his over-the-knee fetish, who the heck was he spanking the other night? Hmm…
Boner himself was a vision in floaty lilac, Nike running shoes incongruously peeking out from a daintily ruffled hemline. I couldn't contain an impromptu jibe.
'Nice frock, sweetie! I always suspected you were into women's clothes.'
To my intense surprise, my ex turned scarlet and flashed me a 'one more word and it's curtains for you' look. And he was always such a manly man. But appearances can be deceptive…
That straitjacket brought back memories. I just hoped there were no Koreans on the ship…
My floor-length purple dress had been left on board by a statuesque but second-rate tennis player rounding off her career by coaching flabby brokers in sun visors on the finer points of serve and volley. She was looking for a decrepit millionaire to ease her middle years but fell instead for a Belgian sous chef and married him in Martinique. Some stories have a happy ending.
I hooked my evening bag over my elbow and adjusted my auburn wig. A glance in a mirror told me my make-up was perfect and my boobs in place.
'My make-up is perfect and my boobs are in place, darling.'
'So they should be. I painted it on you and stuffed them up your dress. How's my mustache?'
Mr(s) Neptune sported a thin penciled line above her upper lip, the two halves meeting in a sweep at her nose. Very artistic, though I say so myself. Her hair was plastered back and bunned. The ship's wardrobe had produced a very decent set of evening clothes with a genuine do-it-yourself white tie. Shining patent leather shoes rounded off the effect. All it needed was a cigarette holder, but Neptunes don't smoke even in jest. Not nicotine, anyway.
'Give me your arm, my dear. I feel in need of a little support.'
'You'll have to bend down!'
God only knows where my shoes came from originally. Maybe also left behind by the tennis player. They were a size or so too small and sported sturdy four-inch heels. I felt like that odd basketball player with the strange hair, the lisp, and the multiple ear piercings.
Talking of lisps…
'Thpanking?'
Frippery Drippit seemed genuinely nonplused by my new wife's sally. I could see this turning into an interesting evening.
'I'm thure I don't know what you're talking about!'
Frip stalked off, Boner's well-worn brogues making slapping sounds on the deck as her feet flopped around inside them.
Boner glared at us as Mr. Deal took advantage of the exchange to sidle off in the direction of anywhere but the Boner-Drippits.
'I've had quite enough of your innuendoes! Just because you're obsessed with your own perversions…'
'Oh, but I learned my perversions at the master's knee, didn't I, Will?' said Jay sweetly. 'Or at least learned that it took a better master than you to turn a peccadillo into a perversion.'
Boner hitched up his floating skirts and looked as though he might take a swing at someone with his brocaded evening bag.
'I wouldn't if I were you, Bonehead! I'll belt you with my handbag!'
My spouse giggled.
'Now, now boys – or girls! Handbags at five paces is not the done thing at respectable parties. You can go out on the promenade deck later and I'll take bets on the winner.'
Boner drew himself up to his full height, which was quite a bit less than mine especially in those shoes.
'I must warn you that I was middle weight boxing champion of Upper Podunk. I shall thrash you to within an inch of your life!'
I put on my best wolfish grin and loomed over him.
'And I am a Technicolor belt in the ancient martial art of Durti Trix! Bid farewell to your vulnerable parts…'
Boner had the sense to blanch under his thin make-up and take a step backward.
'Before that though, Willy baby, we have something of mutual benefit to discuss.'
I linked my arm through his as though we were matrons at a ball and drew him to one side.
'Mutual benefit? What benefit could we possibly have in common?'
'Silence, old thing. Got your check book handy?'
'What the hell are you talking about? A contribution to the Deaf and Dumb Society?'
Boner was definitely quivering now, but so far it was just at the thought of parting with money. Not why. I went on.
'Or rather it wasn't very silent. Not through our cabin wall and with that well-known hearing aid the toothbrush glass. Dealing out a good old thrashing, weren't you? And if it wasn't Frippery, who was it? Hey?'
Boner wriggled but I clamped his arm tight.
'What's it worth, Boner? Silence is golden, and all that. How many zeros, do you think?'
Two bright red spots burned on Boner's pale cheeks.
'Not you as well! Oh no, I should have expected it. That hellcat has had it in for me ever since…'
'What do you mean, not me as well? As well as what? As well as whom?'
Boner's eyes narrowed.
'Blackmail, you…'
With a sudden movement he whirled his handbag like a bolas and caught me on the ear. The game no longer seemed worth the candle, in public at least, so I let him go with a crafty kick at his ankle in parting. I watched him
