Smut

by James

It was message number two when Derek told Gloria he possessed the penis of a mighty stallion. After she’d wiped the wine from the keyboard she read the message again, but yep, there it was, followed by a winky smiley and a puppy rolling over. She hesitated over the delete button – it wasn’t the worst message she’d got that day, and he hadn’t sent a picture of it. This was a step up from ninety percent of the men she’d met online.

Dinner was passable, the conversation not sparkling but a lot of that down to her, down to the stallion in the room. But he walked liked every other man she knew, no discernible tilt to his body, none of the rolling gait of a peg legged pirate. He was able to cross his legs and they didn’t spring apart as though attached to bungee cords.

It was a comfortable date, pleasant enough that Gloria felt happy to stroll in the moonlight their hands close enough that he could have taken hold if he wished. It was his place they reached first, and she thought from his manner of giddy excitement he was gearing for a goodnight kiss.

Derek stopped and turned to face her, one hand rummaging deep in trouser pocket.

He said, ‘I can’t wait, I just have to show it to you.’

‘I’ve had a lovely time, but-‘

Derek held aloft a bunch of keys. ‘Tada! Come on, two ticks, it’s in the garage.’

He crouched and began to release the three padlocks fastening the metal roller shutter. Behind that was another door, another set of locks. Gloria was thinking drum kit and guitars, gently stretching her calves and writing off her heels if he turned out to be a member of U2 covers band.

Inside was like no garage she’d ever seen, carpeted thickly in red with a leather swivel chair and a pair of low coffee tables. Derek beckoned and Gloria followed, drawn into this grotto where the walls were of wood, dozens of drawers with polished brass handles. Derek scampered to a drawer that was double wide and double height. He staggered under the weight of it as he carried it to one of the tables.

He said, ‘I know it’s not really not really the kind of thing you whip out on a first date, but you seemed cool with it…’

Derek lifted the lid of the box and Gloria peered inside.

Something black and sinuous was resting on a bed of red velvet.

Gloria gazed at it.

She gazed at it. She gazed at it, and then she gazed at it.

It was only the phrase “hello, ambulance. Yes, my friend appears to have gone into some kind of catatonic shock” that unfroze her eyelids and set her legs into rapid backpedal.


There was little sympathy down the phone from her sister - what was it, thirty seven first dates and not one of them good enough for a second with Princess Gloria?

It took three big gulps of Chardonnay before Gloria could speak.

‘He has a collection of penises in wooden boxes graded by size, and I’m not sure, but I think one of them was labelled Derek!’

A pause from her sister, and then, ‘Well…how close was it to the stallion box? Because, you know, if it’s pretty close, well that’s a tick in the box.’

Gloria said, ‘What good’s it in a fucking box?’

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