So, what better place to buy your anniversary present than Ann Summers. I’ll openly admit I’m up for a bit of experimentation. Of course when I say experimentation I don’t mean adding on another extension to make room for ‘The Red Room of Pain.’ Just the odd paddle or flogger is enough to be going on with.
Of course as usual I had left the whole thing very late. One thing after another seems to absorb my time. You know, things like writing novels, taking child for poo poo’s (See previous post for that horror) cleaning up cat sick and fighting off wasps every time I try to get in the front door (not the best place to have a wasps nest) Not to mention my half-hearted attempts at trying to grow flowers from seeds, while sneakily popping to the allotment to steal someone else’s rhubarb. Well, if you saw the state of our allotment plot you’d understand why. Although stealing is the wrong word, as he did say I could have some. I just don’t think he meant the whole lot. Anyway, as usual I transgress. But you’re used to that aren’t you?
So, I go shopping to Oxford with my friend and as we approach the Ann Summers shop, I casually mention I’d like to pop in and get Andrew’s anniversary present. She’s quite surprised that we’re still having sex, let alone experimental sex. Still it has to be agreed we are in the throes of fresh love. It’s only been fifteen years!
I wander to the flogger department and ooh, low and behold, there is an offer, buy one get one half price. Well, you can’t pass that up can you? So, I go for a flogger and a paddle. Good to have choice don’t you think? A sexy card is added and then I stare thoughtfully at the small compact vibrators on the counter. Not that I’m new to vibrators of course, but as I stand there I think of the remote one at home, which has lost its remote (not useful) And the one that has rusty batteries in it (Unlikely to work anymore unless I use a defibrillator on it to revive it)
Then there was the lipstick shaped one, which got mistaken for a lipstick so often it became embarrassing. So, you have to agree I’m due a new one.
‘Shall I give you a demonstration,’ asks the assistant.
My friend swayed and I felt sure she was about to faint. Even I’m thinking a demonstration is taking customer service a bit far. Then before we can stop her she has turned it on, the vibrator that is, not herself. Ooh it’s powerful and very reasonably priced.
‘I’ll have one,’ I say.
That done off we pop to get wrapping paper and I’m pleased to say the anniversary present exchange went very well thank you very much. If you think you’re getting any more information you’re going to be disappointed aren’t you?
Several days later following my trip to town I came back from the hairdressers and realised I’d left my keys behind and that my stepson who is currently living with us had locked the door. I fumbled in my bag to find them while at the same time a wasp fumbled its way down the front of my blouse. I shrieked as the bloody thing stung me twice on the tit. I staggered (okay slight exaggeration) back to my car where with great relief I found the door keys.
Finally, in the house and I’m about to search for the antiseptic cream when I freeze as I hear this reverberating sound like a pneumatic drill. Oh my God, is someone in the house? Was it them that locked me out. Calm down, I tell myself, it’s probably James doing some DIY. Have I gone insane? This isn’t DIY. This is someone knocking my house down. I rush upstairs to where the noise is louder and trace it to the spare room. My body shaking and my tit stinging I stare at the boiler. It sounds like it’s going to blow up. It’s banging away like mad. I struggle to find the switch to turn it off. It’s getting louder now and I swear people can hear it from outside. Must keep calm, and phone the doctor, my very intelligent and clever husband.
‘Can you hear it,’ I shout over the noise. ‘What shall I do? Will it blow up. Should I phone a plumber or an electrician?
‘Please calm down,’ yells the doctor. ‘Can you trace exactly where it’s coming from? We need to find the source of the problem. It’s very loud. I can hear it.’
I walk out onto the landing where it seems louder. Bendy runs up the stairs and meows nervously as I open the bedroom door where the noise is even more intense.
‘Oh God, it’s coming from the bedroom,’ I say, trying to think what could blow up in here. Bendy dives out of the room as I edge nearer and nearer to the window where the noise emanates.
‘I think it’s something to do with the windows,’ I say nervously heading towards the light.
It’s like something out of the film ‘Poltergeist’
‘Go towards the light.’
‘Perhaps you should phone someone,’ says the usually calm doctor.
‘Like the police,’ I say.
‘Like an electrician.’
I’m now close to the meter cupboard and the noise is so deafening I can barely hear Andrew at the other end of the phone.
‘It’s in the meter cupboard,’ I say, backing away, expecting an explosion any minute. I feel like a member of the SAS Squad. It is then I realise the noise is coming from the bedside cabinet. It’s deafening me and I can barely hear Andrew who is yelling down the phone but I think he is asking me if I’m okay. I open the door hesitantly, my heart thudding in my chest.
There inside the cupboard banging against the side is the new vibrator. Well that was a bit anti-climactic if you’ll excuse the pun. Great vibrator though. Certainly makes the earth move. Only relieved I didn’t phone the electrician or worse still the police.