A Season for Second Chances(47)

“What did you think of the female portrayals?” asked Sally.

“Usual driveling bints,” said Maeve. “They’re either too sensitive or too stupid.”

“I give you Kate and her mother,” said Annie, topping up Gemma’s and her own wineglass.

“The virtuous fainting virgin and the prattling self-absorbed windbag,” Sally offered.

“What did you think of Nicholas?” asked Gemma, a little dreamily.

“I think he was too pious to be good in the sack,” said Annie.

“I disagree!” trilled Gemma. “I think Nicholas showed great passion. Especially for Madeline Bray.”

“But he’d have kept his socks tucked into his pajamas on his wedding night,” said Sally.

“Maybe he was a little too virtuous?” said Annie.

“Here we go again,” said Sally. “The eternal good-guy-versus-bad-boy debate.”

“Not at all,” said Annie. “I suppose I’d just be attracted to someone more spirited, someone like John Browdie.”

“He was an oaf!” exclaimed Gemma.

“And a chauvinist,” said Maeve.

“I’m not saying he’s my ideal man,” said Annie. “But if I had to choose a man from this particular book, I would choose Browdie over Nickleby.”

“I can see that,” said Sally. “He was a good-natured realist.”

“Exactly,” said Annie. “Plus, I think he’s kind of beefy, where Nicholas I imagine to be a bit scrawny.”

Maeve chose this moment to clear her throat loudly.

“Speaking of beefy,” she said, and Gemma began to giggle uncontrollably and leaned across to top up Annie’s glass. Maeve rustled around in a bag she’d brought in with her and pulled out a box. She placed it in the middle of the table. The clear plastic window of the box revealed a large dildo in shades of pastel peach. Annie and Sally stared. Gemma continued to giggle.

“Open it!” chivvied Gemma.

“Me?” Annie asked.

“Yes, you,” said Maeve. “It’s a gift. For hosting the book club. We wanted to get you something practical.”

Sally was grinning and showing all her teeth.

“Were you in on this?” asked Annie.

Sally shrugged.

“Maybe,” she said. “But Maeve made the choice since she’s the expert in these things.”

Since Annie hadn’t made a move to open the box, Maeve did it for her, pulling the rubber phallus from its casing and waving it about.

“Here,” she said, pointing to a suction pad on its base. “It’s got one of these.” She licked the suction pad and smacked the dildo down hard so that it stuck to the center of the table. “There,” she said. “You’re welcome!”

“Thank you?” said Annie. “Why does it need a suction cup?”

“So you can mount it,” said Maeve as though Annie were stupid. “You know. Go on top. Ride it!”

Annie held her hands up to stop any further explanation.

“Right,” she said. “Got it, thanks.”

“But not necessarily on a tabletop,” said Gemma.

“Safety first,” added Sally.

The dildo stood to attention, leaning ever so slightly to the left. Maeve reached over and squeezed its tip.

“You see, it’s got give,” she said. “Like a real one.”

“Firm but pliable,” added Sally.

“In my experience, realism is best,” Maeve continued. “I’ve tried all sorts of dildos; solid, smooth, ribbed, knobbled, but you can’t beat an authentic-feeling one.”

“Maeve, are you sure you weren’t in the porn industry?” asked Annie, strangely unable to take her eyes off the rubber willy stuck to her freshly sanded table.

“No such luck,” said Maeve. “Just a long time single.”

“I prefer the term synthetic penis,” said Gemma. “Dildo sounds so coarse.”

“You old romantic.” Annie laughed.

Gemma grabbed the box and turned it around, pointing to a photograph of a tall, naked man running one hand through his dark hair while caressing his erect penis with the other.

“It’s a copy of his,” said Gemma delightedly. “They make plaster cast molds.”

“What a claim to fame,” said Annie.





Chapter 37



The four women sat quietly for a few moments, sipping their drinks while they contemplated the large synthetic penis.

“You should name it,” said Sally after a while.

“Ooh,” said Gemma. “Yes, good idea. You could call it John, since you like John Browdie so much!”

Sally leaned forward with her pen and rested it first on one testicle, then the other while solemnly saying, “I hereby name thee John Synthetic Penis the First!”

The women cheered loudly and clinked glasses. Maeve excused herself and stepped out into the rain to use the small brick-built outhouse situated to the right of the café door. It wasn’t exactly ideal, having the toilet outside, but Annie didn’t want to begin any major renovations until she knew whether her gamble to reopen the café was going to pay off. The others were just beginning to discuss the suicide of Ralph Nickleby when the door burst open and a large man stood dripping in the doorway; his broad shoulders filled the entire frame. His face was covered by the hood of his coat pulled low, and his dark, wet outline glistened in the lamplight.