Sauce For The GanderChapter 2 free porn video

It was not nearly as late as Penny had supposed. Tom drove home, not disturbing the silence, also unexpected. She gazed reflectively out her window, watching the passing scenery, silently humming. I’m bisexual, she thought. What a strange occurrence in the third decade of a woman’s life.

Her mouth tasted of sex. Charlee’s sex.

“Stop for something to eat?” Tom asked. Ahead on the right was their favourite fast food restaurant. Penny wasn’t aware they had stopped for the light. She smelled Charlee, smelled of her. My knickers are back there, she thought distractedly. Property of The Freestyle Nightclub.

“Sweetie?” The light had changed, and Tom eased the Audi forward.

“Let’s go home,” Penny said. “I’d rather have some wine and maybe smoke a joint?”

Tom grinned at that suggestion. Penny didn’t often care for either. “I’m not really hungry, either.” Penny grinned at his sly smile.

They caught every signal after Westerly Road, and still arrived in the driveway before 11:00 p.m. Tom cut the engine and lights; Penny unbelted and gathered her purse off the floor. It felt so strange to sit there in her summer frock, with no underwear beneath. A phantom hand she suspected was Charlee’s cupped her left breast. She wondered if Charlee’s real name was Charlene.

Tom opened her door, and offered his hand. They went inside, Tom’s arm around her waist. He undressed her just inside the front door.

“Melanie would find this so revolting,” Penny told him, laughing as Tom attacked her neck and right shoulder. He cupped her breast, slipping his left hand around to her backside. It was such a nice backside for a 37-year-old mum of two.

“Am I destined to end up on the hall floor, Mr. Doyle?” She was pressed against the door, wearing nothing but her flats, which she kicked off.

Tom laughed. “That could be interesting.” He picked her up with a flourish, carried her naked into the kitchen for their bottles of wine.

“Leave the switch alone,” she warned. “I have no interest in being ogled by Mr. Wanstead, or Mr. Teale.”

“What about Mrs. Wanstead, or Mrs. Teale?” he queried.

She laughed, carried in arm to the fridge. “I have no interest in them, either, Mr. Doyle.” She kissed his cheek as he set her on her toes. Then hid behind the door to keep from being seen when the refrigerator light illuminated the kitchen. She liked Tom carrying her naked around the house. He should do it more often.

He extracted two 12 oz. bottles of Zinfandel and closed the refrigerator door. A moment later Penny Doyle was back in his arms, bottles clasped safely in her left hand, being taken upstairs to the bedroom. The curtains would need to be drawn, she considered, lest another pair of neighbours spot her naked.

The marijuana was safely put away on the top shelf of the wardrobe. Carrying Penny inside, he hefted her high enough to snatch the box off the shelf and bring it down. No doubt, Melanie knew it was there. Penny wondered if she’d ever smoked pot herself. Penny certainly had at age 14-1/2.

Tom carried her to the bed and sat her down. Then relieved her of the bottles and shoebox, and she lay back, hands behind her head, grinning. This was possibly the strangest night of their marriage.

She smelled so strongly of Charlene. Or Charlotte. Or Caroline, maybe. Watching Tom draw the blinds and undress--he had a very fine erection, she noted, bouncing smartly as he moved--she imagined his chagrin at the bar, knowing his partner of 17 years was in the embrace of another woman. She had brought Penny to orgasm; had forced Penny to do the same to her. Penny on her knees, face buried between Charlene’s thighs, tongue in her spamming vagina. Penny still could not believe she’d made love to a woman.

She made way for Tom as he lay down. His cock throbbed for her; she could feel it.

“So,” he asked cautiously “did you enjoy it, Mrs. Doyle?”

Penny’s eyes lost focus. She blushed slightly, giving a wistful smile. Obviously embarrassed, she admitted, “It was every bit as good as I thought it would be, Tom. Charlee...” She laughed huskily. “Her intent was to please me, and she did. She did,” she repeated.

His pride stung a bit, Tom watched her blush deepen. “Meaning I don’t?” He immediately regretted saying it.

“Oh Tom, no! Don’t be silly!” She turned on her side and gently stroked his cheek. “That’s not what I meant at all.” Her colour continued to turn a deeper shade of red. “It’s just that women know which buttons to press, and Charlee pushed every one of mine, tonight. Every single one, Tom.”

Tom had coloured, as well. He walked an index and forefinger up his wife’s thigh to her hip. “I know which buttons to press too,” he said, as she shivered.

She shifted, looking a little flustered. “Are you jealous?”

“I suppose I am a bit,” he confessed. “While you and Charlee had the time of your lives in the back room at the Freestyle, I sat in the bar like a spare part.”

She cupped a breast with his hand. “I seem to remember,” she said lightly, “that my husband suggested I visit The Freestyle Nightclub and a certain young lady I met there...” She placed her lips against his for a lingering kiss. “ ... for a lesson in lesbian lovemaking.” She kissed him again, with the same tongue that she had used between Charlee’s thighs.

Tom shuddered convulsively. “I know,” he said, squeezing her warm breast. “But I hoped to join in. Or at least watch you and Charlee together.”

Penny shook her head. “No men allowed. You agreed to that. And you wouldn’t have seen anything, anyway, it was pitch black in there.

She covered his hand and pressed it hard against her chest, flattening her breast. She shivered again. “I’ve never made love in the pitch dark before. I wondered at first what I was getting into. Then I started to like it.” She kissed him with her tongue deep in his mouth, making him moan. “I wondered if she’d even let me see her nude. She did, though,” she added with a grin. “And she made a point of inspecting every inch of me.”

She lifted her leg and made it clear Tom’s finger was invited in. He grudgingly released her breast, and inserted it up her sopping vagina. Had he ever seen her so wet and wanting?

“Ohhhh, God,” she moaned, reconnecting her mouth and grasping his engorged penis. “You need to do me right now, Thomas. Right now, or lose me forever.” She rolled to her back and spread wide to take him in, gasping.

“At least Charlee can’t do this to you,” he growled, plunging into her balls deep. He was perfectly satisfied with her intense shudder and the lock she formed around his waist and neck with her arms and legs. He ground her into the mattress, giving her every inch of cock. She cried out gutturally, shuddering deeply again. He began fucking her as no woman ever could.

“Oh, Tom...” She buried her face against his neck, groaning with his thrust. “I think you have the edge on Charlene. Or Charlotte--”

“Or Caroline?” he suggested.

She laughed against his neck. Tom always knew what she was thinking. Or trying to think, with a thick penis buried inside her.

She knew Tom could smell the sex, knew he tasted Charlene when they kissed, when he kissed her neck and shoulders. He wouldn’t last long, she knew. Not with this tremendous need, this desperation to give her every inch. Tomorrow she’d walk like a newlywed again. If she could walk at all, she thought, shuddering violently. Tom exploded in orgasm.

“Oh, Tom... !” She went rigid in climax, wrapped him tightly enough to make him choke. She dug her nails into his back and fought not to rake him with them like claws. It was her most intense orgasm in months, maybe a year, maybe even more. She gasped, sucking air to keep from screaming. Inside, Tom spewed against her cervix, emptying himself, unleashing millions of microscopic swimmers to invade her womb in frantic search of her microscopic egg, to impregnate her with a third child, a brother, or sister to Melanie and Martin. Alas, it would be another week for that time, too late for this precious brood. Spent, Tom collapsed atop her.

They breathed together, too weak to move. Tom groaned, sought her ear with his lips, and nuzzled it as he always did after sex. He remained unusually hard, buried inside her in comfort. That wouldn’t last, she knew; he’d battered her pretty good, had stretched her to the limit in such a short time. They hadn’t lasted even ten minutes. Intense, desperate lovemaking. Because of Charlene.

“I love you, Tom.”

He sighed contently. “You bet you do, Penny Doyle.” She laughed, trembling from adrenaline shock. He shifted, adjusting his weight, inadvertently freeing himself.

“No!” she protested, laughing. A gush of sperm leaked from behind him, adding to her messiness. She felt the slick of lubricant coating her thighs, the trickling of his seed between her cheeks. So rewarding, being the female partner, she thought wryly.

She kissed his neck and massaged his back and shoulders. They’d need to hide his back from Mel until the indents from her fingernails healed. She’d gouged him nearly as deep as he’d gouged her.

“Would you do it again?” he whispered against her ear. “With another woman, I mean?”

“With Charlee, yes. So long as you didn’t object, of course. Especially if you fuck me like this afterwards, Mr. Doyle,” she said, laughing softly. Tentatively, she added: “I wouldn’t have problems with another woman, either. Someone not Charlee.”

Tom rose onto his elbows. Without use of hands, he carefully reinserted his semi-erectness between her thighs. She writhed, ensuring his success. Groaning, she bit her lower lip, and momentarily closed her eyes. She could do this again. She could.

“It would be nice to find a bisexual girl who could join us, don’t you think?”

She grinned, opening her eyes. “A nice bisexual woman, yes. Not a girl. Melanie’s a girl, Tom.”

“I stand corrected, a woman,” he apologized, grinning. He pressed deep enough to make her squirm and bite her lower lip. Her dark hair, a scattering of grey that belied her age, invisible in the low light, spread out beneath her in a disorderly spray.

“You can’t tease me like that Mr. Doyle,” she protested after a time, opening her eyes again. “We could have a drink together, I suppose. Chat to break the ice and make sure we like her, and that she likes us...” She smiled crookedly in embarrassment. “And then we could retire to our bedroom, where you could watch our young lady and I make love, right here in our bed. Or possibly a motel room. That might be better, at least at first.” She bit her lip again, considering.

“My husband, my only partner for 17 years, watching me naked in bed with another woman. Doing what I’ve only ever done with you, Mr. Doyle. Would you like to watch me 69 with someone else?” She moaned, closed her eyes, and bit her lip in response to his affirmative answer. “Thomas,” she moaned. “Please tell me you aren’t just torturing me?”

He kissed her, assuring he wasn’t. Moaning, she freed her mouth long enough to give him further encouragement. “I’d let you do my mouth while she watched, or let you eat me, or have me doggie. Or we could 69 for her,” she suggested. “Whatever you wanted me to do.”

Tom’s erection became all the harder, a ramrod. “I thought we could join in together. A threesome, you know. You perform oral on her, while I take you doggie like you suggested, or maybe as the two of you 69.” He triggered a desperate moan with a deep probe of his fully engaged erection. “Then I could do her, while she does you. We could do all sorts of combinations, Mrs. Doyle.”

Penny grinned wryly. Planting her hands against his chest and disrupting his rhythm, she quipped: “Let me see if I’ve got this right, Mr. Doyle.” Her green eyes sparkled. “You bonk me while I eat her out. Then you bonk her while she eats me. You get to shag us both, with the bonus of one, or the other, or the both of us polishing your knob afterwards? Or during? Or maybe before, during and after? Do I have that right?”

Tom reddened. “Well, something like that, yeah. We could experiment a bit. Play around a bit. I could lick her, while she licks you, or you could watch.”

Her grin widened. Her fingernails deployed against his chest, though only teasingly, she said: “I see. Tom gets to fool around with two women, and I just have the one of you.”

Tom’s blush deepened. “I think you got this all wrong, mum. Or you think I do.” He gave the appearance of wanting to stick a finger down his collar. “How about this? Another couple our age. The wife bi-curious, like you; the husband like me, wanting to indulge his wife. Wanting to see her enjoy herself with another woman. We do the wining and dining deal in town, dance with each other’s partners to get a feel for each other, experiment with physical contact ahead of time--what better way to do that than through an intimate slow dance, right? --and then if all goes well, we retire to their home or ours, or maybe a nice motel.”

“Go on,” Penny urged, intrigued in spite of herself. She envisioned an opulent motel room, such as the one they’d rented in The Yorkshire Dales last Autumn. She and the unknown woman in bed, naked and making love. Tom and the woman’s husband, unobtrusively watching from the shadows. (She mentally snorted at that image.) Then she couples with “Richard”, while Tom takes pretty “Mary”, the housewife with red hair, to bed.

All in the same bed? They had better rent a suite.

“What about another couple where husband and wife are both bi, Tom? I’d be with Mary, and get to see you experiment with Richard.” She grinned, suggestively scratching his chest with her fingernails.

Tom blinked in surprise. Another man? Richard? Mary?

“Are you kidding me?”

Penny rubbed his chest, and shifted beneath him, not wanting to derail the lovemaking entirely. “I might enjoy you and another man, Tom. Have you ever thought about stroking another man’s cock, or sucking it? I’m not the only person in this bed with a mouth, Tom. It never killed me.”

Tom stared at her slack-jawed, horrified. “That’s perverted!” he blurted. “No way! Another man?”

Penny smiled, traced through his chest hair with her fingertips. He’d lost strength, but not worrisomely so, not yet. She just had to approach this right.

“Sweetheart. There is nothing wrong with doing what I’ve done to you a thousand times. As much as you like it, as much as you know I like it...” She squeezed him internally to remind him of what she so enjoyed sucking. “ ... you should know that enjoyment is a two-way street. I certainly enjoyed being with Charlee...” She squeezed him lovingly again. “I want you happy, watching me with another woman. But I’d enjoy seeing you with another man, too. And I assure you, Tom...” She grinned widely, knowing with the certainty of 17 years of marital experience, “ ... that what’s sauce for the goose, is sauce for the gander.” Please, she thought pleadingly, let him get the double-entendre.

Tom struggled fitfully. “It’s different,” he finally replied, cutting away his eyes.

Penny placed palms against his chest, fingers splayed. That usually insured, getting her way with Tom. Also encouraging, was that he remained nearly fully erect inside her. She had a chance at this.

“How? You encourage me to be different, so I’m encouraging you. Different is good, Tom. Look at me and Charlee, tonight.”

Tom dug in his heels. “Not interested. Drop the subject, Penny. Light now, please.”

Penny clenched her fists against his chest. “Consider it dropped. The whole thing, Tom. Can I have my wine, please? And maybe you should light the joint. I could use a little stimulation.”

Tom stared sourly at his wife. “Stop being unreasonable, love. You liked being with Charlee tonight. What’s the problem?”

“I’m not the one with a problem, Tom. Cooperation runs both ways.”

The conversation, and the lovemaking ended there.

Things were expectedly constrained between husband and wife the next few days. Melanie and Martin returned from the grandparents on Sunday; Monday morning, Penny and Tom returned to work.

To his credit, Tom understood the problem lay in his court, not his wife’s. Penny was the exceptional partner; the perfect mum to his children, loving, devoted, incredible in the bedroom all of their 17 years together. 20 years, counting the on-again, off-again courtship in the late 90’s. Always intent on his pleasure and forging an indelible marriage. And like so few wives, Penny was amenable suggestion-wise, and willing to try anything once. She finally relented on Wednesday evening, allowing herself to be undressed and made love to.

“Oh, thank, God,” Tom sighed.

Penny laughed softly. “I shouldn’t have let this go on so long. Forgive me?”

Tom circled a small nipple with his fingertip, making it taut. “I have nothing to forgive. You were right to get angry, love.”

Slick with perspiration, hair damp at the roots and breathing deeply, Penny cradled his head as Tom went breast to breast with his lips, savouring the post-lovemaking high. Penny had really enjoyed his lovemaking, tonight. Saturday night ended so badly, a marital disaster. She could count on one hand--with a finger or two left over--the times she had cold-shouldered Tom for more than one night. She had hated herself, today, despising this implacable attitude. He’d been so gentle with her tonight, too, inflaming her guilt.

He raised his head from her breast. “You serious about seeing me with another man, love?”

Penny blinked in surprise. And then shivered as fingertips coursed the inside of her thigh to between her legs. She writhed as a middle finger penetrated her lush wetness. She was squishy inside, filled with his seed. Soon they’d need to resort to the hated condoms; it was nearly ovulation time.

“As part of a foursome, yes. Not if you find the idea thoroughly abhorrent, though. Then we’ll forget it. No hard feelings, Tom.” She rubbed his dishevelled hair, still a lustrous black at 40. Everything was lustrous about him, she thought with a wry grin, penis included. Which she wouldn’t mind having again, tonight.

Tom bit his lower lip, a habit he’d unconsciously taken from his wife. Penny could see his distress.

“I’m still not sure. I shouldn’t ask you to do what I want, without returning the favour, though.” He gave a lopsided grin. “Not the perfect turn of phrase, I know, sorry.” He shifted, coming alongside her to reach her mouth, which he lightly kissed. “You are such a good wife. I never deserved to have a wife like you, Penny, love.”

“You and my mother, agree then,” she teased.

Tom rolled his eyes. “I’d hate to know her opinion of me sharing her daughter with another man,” he said.

“Or another woman.”

Laughing, Tom kissed her again. Penny turned the kiss into a lingering one, going onto her side and into his welcoming arms. Their legs intertwined, and she detected and helped strengthen his growing erection with her groin. Eventually, she said, “So, you’ll think about it.”

“Anything to please my beautiful wife,” Tom agreed.

A moment later, on her back and spread, Tom’s erection stole between her legs, which she wrapped loosely around his waist, ankles crossed at the small of his back. His erection was so perfect, the exact match for her oft-used vagina. Penny wondered how often her married friends coupled after decades of marriage and multiple children. Not many like she and Tom, she imagined. They remained so much in love. Despite the odd current situation.

“What exactly would you be comfortable with?” she questioned. “The right couple--finding them, anyway--would be so important, I think. We both know what I like. I have no clue what to expect, with you. I’d enjoy seeing the two of you fellate, you already know that. Would you be interested in anal sex, maybe?” She grinned, knowing how much he liked doing that to her.

Tom winced. “I’m trying to swallow the idea of putting around man’s cock in my mouth, and you’re talking about me buggering him?”

“Or him buggering you,” Penny quipped smartly.

“Don’t be a smart-ass,” Tom grumbled, knowing how she detested talk like that. “It’s out of the question. I couldn’t handle doing that.”

Penny rose up and kissed him. “I do, all the time, and you never hear a complaint from me.” She laughed. “Another bad turn of phrase, sorry. What I mean, is that you might like it as much as I do, Tom. With the right partner.

“My right partner is you,” he grumbled.

Penny hadn’t thought of that. She gazed up at him thoughtfully.

“What?” he questioned.

“I might like shagging you, actually,” she said.

Tom blinked in confusion “What?” he repeated.

“And watching you get shagged.”

Penny...” He shook his head, still blinking. “I’m not sure I could physically take a prick up my ass, anyway.”

“Cock,” she pleaded. It was the only slang term for his penis that she’d agreed upon. She detested speaking even that, and refused to acknowledge any word for herself other than vagina, and medical terms for her other parts. She did accept the terms ass and asshole, though; it was just so familiar from high school and college, exchanged with her girlfriends.

“I take yours up my ass all the time, Tom. Sometimes every impossible millimetre of you, and I don’t break. I don’t writhe and scream out in pain, either. Well, normally not,” she conceded, giggling. “Anyway,” she continued, under Tom’s glare of disapproval. “I see no reason why your anus and rectum should be any different than mine, and in fact, larger, if anything. You are a man, with a man’s much larger physique. Probably, you could--”

“All right, all right,” he interrupted irritably. “I get you’re point.” He wrinkled his brow. “What did you mean, you might like shagging me yourself?”

“I am your right partner,” she repeated.

He shook his head. “You mean, you doing me?”

“It makes perfect sense, Tom. I’d enjoy it like I said, and you’d be doing it with your right partner, not a strange man, with a foreign penis. That would be scary for anyone. It certainly was for me,” she admitted with a woeful grin. Tom was not the first man--or boy, in the case of Roger Burdock, and later Milo Cantorous--to acquaint her virgin anus and rectum to the male phallus.

Tom’s frown deepened. He’d never taken Penny’s sexual experience with other men well. Especially any mention of anal sex, which was the ultimate intimate act with a man in Tom’s view. Performing fellatio on a man was such a close second, that he often couldn’t see the difference. Penny hadn’t done that, at least.

“Sorry,” she apologized, smiling lopsidedly. “You are the only man I’ve ever had in my mouth,” she reminded him, unnecessarily. “And the only man to ever put his mouth between my legs. I wish you’d been my first at everything,” she wished for the thousandth time. “But I’d like to be you’re first, taking you anally. You’d be my first, letting me do it. What do you think?”

Tom stared down at her. “You’ll be gentle with me?”

“No less gentle than you, my love.”

Tom’s grinned. He wasn’t nearly as gentle sometimes as Penny’s delicate anus and rectum deserved. Sometimes he became downright rough, though she always took it without complaint, and often times obviously enjoyed it.

“Ok. As long as you’re gentle. And as long as I get to do you afterwards, with the same gentleness you did me, and using the same, just as deeply embedded in your you-know-what phallus, Mrs. Doyle.”

Giggling like a high schooler, Penny wrapped his neck with her arms, locked her ankles tight in the small of her back again, and made sure he enjoyed the use of his own, deeply embedded phallus, for as long as his heart desired, in Mrs. Doyle’s other deep orifice.

Penny had never been in the shop. Tom had, of course, purchasing her beloved pink vibrator and the stunningly realistic dildo they no longer owned, but which Penny secretly missed on occasion, often dearly. It was so nearly Tim’s identical twin as to be mystical.

The sign on the window read Love Potions. The shop was situated discretely on the edge of a business park, between a tyre changing service, and a wholesale pet food distributor. Local ordinances being what they were, a sex shop was not welcome in commercial shopping districts. Despite this, the store was reasonably up-market, with a pleasant atmosphere, the air scented a subtle musk. Pop music played quietly from hidden speakers.

The sales associate, a tall, raven-haired beauty in her early twenties, signalled from across the room, where she assisted another, younger couple, possibly newlyweds. Penny was certain of that. Smiling secretly, she imagined the young girl’s long nights, the head of steam she must endure. Her beau was absolutely cockish, a strutting cock of a boy. Man, she corrected mentally; he was most likely 22 or 23 years of age. His wife was a teen.

“So, what do you think of her get-up?” Tom whispered.

The tall brunette wore a smart white lab coat over white stockings, and black, obviously expensive heels. Fuck-me-heels, Penny would call them in college. Beneath the lab coat, Penny was confident the girl wore nothing, save her white thigh-HI’s. She could not squat, or bend over without exposing her private parts. She whispered her opinion to Tom.

Tom blinked in surprise. “Do you really think so?” He shot the girl a startled glance. The cockish newlywed, if he suspected anything, concealed the knowledge admirably. Penny suspected she’d just inadvertently given her husband a good stiffy; so predictable, men.

“I’d expect her at one of the high-end perfumery units,” Tom said. “Not working here.”

As though catching his thoughts, the girl turned her head and smiled. Be with you in a jiffy, she mouthed. She had prominent breasts, obviously supported by a brassiere, so Penny silently revised her estimation of the associate’s wardrobe: most likely a corset, or a hi-end, push-up bra. Penny wore Victoria’s Secret brand lingerie: the girl’s undies were probably more exotic, probably French. Penny wondered how she looked minus the lab coat. Pinking, she looked away.

Tom cleared his throat.

“What?” she asked, not turning back.

“Do you see what she’s showing them, love?”

Intrigued, though still embarrassed, Penny eyed the trio peripherally. On the counter was an anatomically perfect, lower female form.

Without a trace of embarrassment, the associate pointed out the vaginal and anal openings to the couple, offering explanation, and then demonstrating the multi-speed vibrator built into each of the openings.

“This is our most versatile model,” she advised, rotating the form in order to display the model’s perfectly formed behind. The husband was wide-eyed, and grinning; his wife, furious with embarrassment. Penny watch the girl cut her eyes to the small fountain in the centre of the shop, a full-size replica of the Manneken Pis. Unlike the boy in the infamous Brussels landmark, however, this one came equipped with a multi-coloured LED that changed the stream’s colour at regular intervals: blue to green, to purple, to red, and back to blue again. Tom had recently submitted a urine sample for his yearly physical exam; grinning, Penny wondered what the nurse and the lab technician would make of pee altering colour, every few moments.

“Considering water-sports?” Tom whispered in her ear.

Startled, she blushed purple and retorted: “Not the way you manage to miss the bowl whenever you feel the need to go pee, Mr. Doyle! You need to improve your aim first.”

It wasn’t until Tom explosively snickered into his hand that Penny realized what a perfectly brainless answer that was. Mortified, turning dark as a brick, she hissed, “You better stop that, if you know what’s good for you, Mr. Doyle! I mean it!” she warned, as Tom continued to snicker uncontrollably. She had so badly exposed herself to continual nightly harassment. Would she give into it, she wondered, just to stop his juvenile harassment? Fortuitously, the associate had left the arguing newlyweds, and drifted over in rescue.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said in her soft, mellifluous voice. She originated in Orkney, Penny thought, a long way from home. “May I help you? Is there something in particular you are looking for?”

Tom was obviously tongue-tied by the girl’s beauty, poise, and startlingly blue eyes.

“Yes,” Penny answered. “And considering what you just showed the newlyweds, I shouldn’t be embarrassed to say this, but I am. A strap-on phallus, I think they’re called?”

God, her face might self-ignite, but the blue-eyed girl had heard it all before. Penny pegged her as a college student, working over summer break for tuition expenses. Her breasts pushed out the front of the lab coat so provocatively, that Penny almost reached out a hand to sample one’s fullness. The girl’s smile, while not inviting a touch of intimacy, told Penny she also wouldn’t object to it. From Penny. Her name tag read Gairsay.

“We have a number,” Gairsay advised. She was most definitely from Orkney, Penny thought. “In a number of sizes, price ranges, and quality. I expect its quality that interests you, Ms... ?”