Page 92 of Has Anyone Seen My Sex Life?
‘Remind Danny to turn off the lights in the bathroom.’
‘Will do. Say hello to George for me.’
I know everyone’s names now too. It’s what I did when Danny got this job. I felt it was almost an obligation, like marrying into royalty. Get involved in the annual fun day picnic, sign some Christmas cards, come in with the occasional cake. Times hadn’t been easy here – a rival mill on the other side of town had merged with a Swedish manufacturer and a lot of Bob’s health woes came about in the financial downturn. Gill was always adamant it was the guilt and stress which made him ill. When Danny came in, he turned things around. He convinced people to stay but take a lower wage. When things started looking up, he incremented their salaries slowly. Not one person queried it. I knock lightly on the door.
‘Aye…’
I peek my head around the door.
‘You’re barred.’
‘Whatever. Olive looks well.’
‘Slimming World.’ He’s typing away on a computer and lets out an exasperated sigh.
‘How do you spell “convenience”?’
‘Con-ven-i-e-n-c-e.’
‘I knew you were good for something.’
‘Ta.’
Danny’s office hardly changes despite my pleas to jazz it up with a rug or a sofa. What remains are the family photos on the desk: a strange selection of reportage shots and selfies including an awful photo of me on the beach looking like my hair has been styled by Mr Whippy. Danny stops typing and sits back from his chair.
‘Done. Did you bring them?’
I bring out a roll of black bags from my handbag and wave it around. ‘Let’s do this then.’
It’s been a strange week post Rowan’s exhibition. We sat around outside The Brewery realising that Captain Mintcake was, locally at least, becoming something of a phenomenon. This was a chance for Danny to go either way: come out, wallow in the notoriety, make a bit of dosh – a fair bit if these London folk had anything to do with it. Or keep hiding, attempting to keep this under wraps: a hobby on a computer. Nothing was decided for sure but little things were discussed. We do a better job of covering our tracks, we protect the Captain until we find resolution and number one on that list was to tackle the filing cabinet full of sex paraphernalia. Of course, I could have just left this job to Danny but I’m here out of curiosity. How does one fill a whole cabinet full of the things? Are there those giant dildo things that you see in gay porn? I’m not naive. I know what exists out there.
Danny already has the key out and starts opening everything up. I peer over from the other side of the room. He glances over at me. ‘What are you doing over there? I’m not throwing stuff over. You’re a shit catch.’
I go over, curiously wondering if there’s anything spring-loaded that may catch me by surprise.
‘Has Olive actually left the building?’
‘I think so. Anyway, would she know what any of this stuff is? We could tell her they’re newfangled pencil sharpeners.’
Danny looks at me as he pulls out the first toy. It’s a butt plug. We could easily say that was some sort of desk bookstand.
‘Woah, did you try this one out?’
‘Naturally. It has the suction cup. Just attached it to my chair, pulled down my underpants and had it in my arse while I checked my emails each morning.’
‘I know you’re lying. You have a fabric chair.’
He smiles. I peer over into the cabinet.
‘Crikey, that’s a lot of cock.’
The drawer seems to be made up of at least fifty per cent dildo. When Gill opened this up, she must have thought the very worst of me, like I was some sort of addict. There’s quite an array of items in here, some opened and some in their original packaging. From anal beads to lube to harness-like contraptions. Danny doesn’t seem too precious about anything so it mostly gets tossed in the bin bag. I have no idea where we’re going to dispose of all of this but I’m thinking it’ll be someone else’s black bin on the way home.
Something suddenly starts vibrating in the cabinet like a wind-up toy one might find in a cracker. That’d be one way to spice up Christmas. What is this ring, Gill? It’s a bit wide for my finger. I hold it up to my eye then realise Danny may have tried this on. I drop it quickly in the bag. I sift through the drawer like some very kinky lucky dip. This is when something is going to bite me, isn’t it? I’m going to end up in A&E again in another sex-related incident. Instead, my hand happens across something strangely soft.
‘What’s this then? Is it a torch?’
I open it up. That is not a light.
