At this point in the narrative Mrs. Neptune succumbed to the temptations of Sappho. As her tongue was half way down the tour guide Clara's throat, I must pick up the slack.
My stoned and inebriated cargo hoisted themselves into the bus with the air of Texans about to grab a few minutes shuteye. Jay and friend clambered onto the front seat beside me and started snogging. Disgusting, I call it. They didn't invite me. Just wait though, Harry will have his moment…
'Put the bus back where you found it, Harry, me old mate! Oi'll take the survivors on to the delights of Nelson's Dockyard and a bit of fresh air.'
'Enjoy yourself, Hardy! Pop in for a swift half on the way back.'
'Oi might well do that, Harry old lad, oi might well indeed. Give me regards to Henryk!'
That latter request, as Kismet Hardy well knew, would be difficult to accommodate. If there ever was a Henryk he was long gone, and Henryk's was now owned by a Cabinet Minister, a senior police officer, and a democratic sprinkling of ladies of ill repute, waiters, and cooks.
As I started the engine the passenger door slid back. Mrs. Gigi Goldfinkel and toy boys clambered aboard, shoving a couple of Texans to the rear to make room for themselves.
'Press on, you naughty boy! Gigi's had a cocktail and she'll want a tinkle when we get there!'
One toy boy picked her up and plonked her on his lap, so I guess we all know how they were going to while away the journey. I was starting to feel quite left out.
I bade Rasta farewell and he trotted off up to the road to find his next lift. No doubt a new tale about loony honkies would be born tonight in the rum shops of Old Road. As I drove off I saw he had commandeered Gigi's scooter and was flying up the road with dreadlocks streaming in the wind.
The last time I was in Henryk's was for a wake. An Irishman had perpetuated the legend by drinking himself to death in the record time of eleven years on the island (most go much quicker). There was much crying, much drinking, and much giving of solace. Or so I am told.
I headed back past Jolly Harbour, Bolan's Village and Jennings until I came to the road to Five Islands and carried on instead of turning into town. My head was clearing with the breeze and I felt ready for the next challenge.
'Oh, Clara!'
'Oh, Jay!'
OJ? Oh, I see. Jay had Clara pressed up against me and was vigorously doing something under the guide's sarong. I had a surreptitious feel of her thigh and no one complained. There was a stirring in the trouser department. I pressed on the loud pedal and reached across for a fondle of an orange bikini'd breast.
In a jiffy we juddered to a halt in front of the big low building known to all and sundry as Henryk's.
'Missah Neptun'! Missah Neptun'! You got plenty stamina today?'
A double vision in double bounty stood guard at the wide front door. I never could work out which Boobsy Twin was which, but I had had a lot of fun trying. They wore short dresses with the deepest of deep octoroon cleavage, the better to air their magnificent assets.
'Darling girls!'
I leapt out of the driver's seat and into their arms. Jay and Clara were still at it, now sprawled across my newly vacated seat. I made up for their lack of attention by kissing first one Boobsy then the other, then all four Boobsy boobs.
'Gigi's coming!'
'I bet she is… Girls, meet Mrs. Goldfinkel, Toy Boy One, and Toy Boy Two. Call them Humpty and Dumpty for short. Where's dinner? I'm starving. Must be something I smo… drank.'
'Weed! Weed! Little weed!'
Miss Lawrence and Clara had decided to rejoin the world, and the former was regaling me with a ditty from an ancient children's television program. No doubt she thought it was appropriate.
A Boobsy unzipped my shorts and slipped a hand inside.
'Lunch, Harry! Got to keep yo' strength up to keep Harry up!'
'Indeed, my dear. I phoned ahead for the famous buffet. You might send some of the boys out to waken the rest of our passengers. They seem to have been overcome by the heat or something. I'm sure some lobster and jerk goat will bring them back to life. They're from Texas you know – everything is very big in Texas.'
'Not as big as this thing, Harry! You been exercising!'
I smiled, as might any man with a beautiful hand caressing his pride and joy while affording a view of the most delightful chasm north of Dominica.
The other Boobsy took my hand and we led the crocodile of lust indoors.
Me and Boobsy's in the van, Jay and Clara holding hands behind, then Gigi in a chair of the toy boys' arms, and finally a straggling procession of Texans supported by Henryk's grinning bouncers.
'Who's for a nice game of Charades?'
I reluctantly disengaged myself from my sultry South American compadre and stared at the large man in the loud shirt. He looked vaguely familiar. Oh yes. My husband. He had a half-naked busty black beauty under each armpit and a serious swelling in his shorts. I swiftly adopted my supportive wifely role of chief heckler and straight sidekick.
'Have you gone completely nuts, Neptune? This is a brothel not a holiday camp!'
Harry pretended to ignore me and the Black Widow uttered a piercing shriek of delight.
'Oh! Oh! I do love party games! Don't you dare start until I'm back from my tinkle!'
The vision in bubble gum pink shorts and matching sparkly T-shirt disappeared through a door marked 'Sluts.' I couldn't see the gentlemen's washroom and wondered what the sign on that door read. For a sex-themed restaurant and club, it was certainly to-the-point. Meanwhile, my spouse had procured a large cloth bag labeled 'TOYS' and was rummaging feverishly. The buxom brown brace began to giggle as Harry stood up, brandishing a large strap-on dildo in one hand and a set of handcuffs in the other. Things were looking up.
'Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Bambi and Botti Boobsy, the dynamic, nay, pneumatic, duo who have single-handedly reinvented the humble party game as we know it. What shall it be, girls? Postman's Knockers? Hunt the Fondle?'
The girls conferred briefly and I took in their outfits. They both wore bottom-skimming skintight mini-dresses with lace-up bodices. Bambi's dress was metallic blue, Botti's a similarly shiny bright pink. Six-inch stiletto pumps completed the look, although both girls were already anything but short in stature. In their heels, they stood as tall as Harry and he is well over six feet. Idly, I wondered how Botti got her name and how long it would take their monumental breasts to escape from the straining lacing of their tightly stretched bodices. Finally, Bambi whispered in Harry's ear and he grinned and patted her bottom.
'An excellent choice, my dear. OK, pardners, it looks as if we are going to have a spot of Hide amp; Seek before we partake of Henryk's delicious buffet lunch. Who's going to be It?'
'We should draw straws, Harry, sweetie. That's only fair. Oh, I do hope it's me!'
Mrs. Goldfinkel had re-emerged from the ladies' powder room. She rushed over to the partially laid buffet table and swiftly plucked a large handful of brightly colored plastic straws from the drinks section. Executing a rapid head count, she carefully selected the required number of straws and slipped them into an empty beer jug.
'Now then! Everyone closes their eyes when they take a straw from the jug, then stirs up the pot for the next person. Most of the straws are pink but there's one blue one in there. The person who takes the blue straw is It. Oh! Oh! I can barely stand the excitement!'
Obediently, we formed a straggling ring and passed the jug. It wasn't long before one of the Texans, a rather overweight chap named Chad, drew the blue straw and the game began. Bambi Boobsy found a sequined blindfold and a set of Mickey Mouse headphones in the toy bag and Chad was divested of two of his senses. I turned to Clara, who had slipped a friendly arm about my waist.
'This looks more like Blind Man's Buff than Hide amp; Seek.'
My Latin lover smiled knowingly.
'Watch!'
