The phone call came at 5:23 AM.

I was fast asleep, dreaming happily about the holiday I was about to go to in a few hours, when it assaulted my eardrums. A few months ago I’d changed my ring tone to that song, “I hate you,” by Kellis, which seemed like a good idea at the time, but now- barely at the crack of dawn- it just gave me a blinding headache.

 “I hate you so much right now… I hate you so much right now, I hate you so much right now. AAHHHHH!”

 I scrambled quickly for the phone to shut off the offensive noise.

“Hello!”

“Hey hun,” It was my sister, “We’re at the ER with Sophie, I think she’s picked up a stomach bug,” I could hear in Jenny’s voice that she’d been up all night.

Now I was awake, and worried. “Oh my God, is she okay?”

“Don’t worry, she’s fine. Just a stomach thing, the doctors says it should be over in about 48 hours, but that means we won’t be able to travel with you today!’

“What? You’re not coming?”

“No, we’re coming, we just have to move our flight out by a few days. I’m not getting on a plane with a pooping, hurling baby. Those airplane toilets are so small, and trust me, with what’s coming out of her, it will be all over the-“

“OK, stop. I get the picture.” A side note about new moms, why do they have to give you a running commentary about their child’s bowel movements? Inevitably all conversations lead back to pooh; frequency, texture, color. I felt nauseous just thinking about it.

“So I’m going on holiday by myself? Jen, do you know how pathetic and “broken hearted ex girlfriend” that looks?” I couldn’t hide the disappointment in my voice, which made me feel terribly selfish, as my misery was nothing compared to my poor niece’s right now.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have fun! Imagine, three whole days by yourself. Maybe you’ll get lucky and find some hot scuba instructor?”

“Doubtful-“

Jenny cut me off, “Okay, the doctor’s here. Enjoy your flight; see you in a few days. Love ya.”

And then she was gone.

I’d been so excited about this trip, but the idea of going alone- even if it was only for a few days-was horrifying. I was self-conscious enough as it was, without people pointing and staring at me like the last, lonely Rhino in the zoo. Besides, who would put sun cream on my back?

For a moment I contemplated pushing my flight out too, but then I looked out the widow and saw the sight I dreaded most.

Perhaps I should have mentioned earlier that Gunter is very ‘open’ with his body, maybe it was a German thing, maybe it was because he'd been a nudist in the seventies? But whatever the reason, in my humble opinion, no sixty five year old man should clean his pool- bending over often I might ad- in a tiny, black Speedo.

Gunter had orange leather like skin and his bum hung like a flap of lose skin somewhere around the back of his knees. And when he moved, the whole thing seemed to swing from side to side. Gunter is also a hairy man, and I’m not just talking about his chest. It always looks like he’s smuggling a very fluffy Maltese poodle in his speedo.

“Hi Annie”, he waved at me, exposing the Santa beard he had tucked away under his armpit.  

“Hi Gunter.” I smiled politely, and waved back deciding that I should go to Mauritius that morning. It was summer holidays here after all, and the pool would probably need regular cleaning.

**

The flight to Mauritius is only three hours, and I entertained myself with a series of happy thoughts.

White sandy beaches.

The turquoise sea.

The warm sun.

Cocktails; Margaritas, Mojitos, Sex on the Beach (and I mean that in the purely alcoholic sense)

There would be no sex on the beach for me, or anywhere else for that matter. Especially since I’d unofficially taken a vow of celibacy, in the light of my obviously less than satisfactory bedroom performance.  I was continuously plagued by feelings of sexual inadequacy until one of my friends Bee suggested something-

“Babe, if you’re looking for sex tips. You should hire a porno.”

 “I’m not hiring a porno.” I protested.

“Think about it. Those people are paid to have sex. Paid!” She’d said while munching down on her Protein Bar, she claims a carb hasn't past her lips in over a year, “That makes them professionals. If anyone knows how to do it, they do.”

Naturally I dismissed her notion as downright ridiculous. But a few months later, while watching a TV program on infidelity, one of those true-life things where the wife hires a private investor- I changed my mind. When confronted, the man also showed no remorse. Instead he sited his wives lack-luster bedroom performance as one of the main reasons for straying, that and “Bitch, you don’t cook for me no mo ho”.

Sex is important. Especially for men. So with that in mind, I Googled the nearest adult store.

I’ve never been to an Adult shop before and found the prospect daunting. And cruelly, most seemed to be located on rather busy main roads, forcing you to engage in some kind of public walk of shame, dramatically increasing your chances of being seen by someone you know. The other issue was whether to go there in full daylight, or under the cover of night.

Although the chances of being spotted at night are less, the chances of being mistaken for a desperate, sexual pervert are greater- somehow the cloak of darkness gives the whole thing a far more lascivious vibe. During the day your chances of being spotted increase, but what with all the other shops being open, it would be easy to pretend you were just out buying milk. Then there was the question of what to wear? As I saw it, there were two options; the trench coat and large face disguising hat, and then something completely normal and ordinary. I opted for the latter, after putting on a long trench coat and a baseball hat and realizing I looked like a deranged flasher.

It took me a few minutes to psych myself up, as I parked my car on the other side of the road. There was no mistaking it, “Adult Extravaganza”. It certainly made no attempt to blend in. It boasted a large, red flashing ' X' that could no doubt be seen by intelligent life forms living in another galaxy. It was not subtle, that’s for sure.

There was also nothing subtle about it’s interior either. It was so dimly lit that it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. But once they had and I managed to review my surroundings, I felt like I’d taken a tumble through the rabbit hole and walked straight into Alice’s Wonderland, for adults. Half the shop was dedicated to ‘Toys and Accessories and the other half to DVD’s, currently I was surrounded by…Mmmm, what euphemism can I use here… female pleasure appliances?

Some were pretty ordinary looking things, whilst others looked like something you might buy from the gift shop at Sea World. Next to the rows of colorful playthings, was a rail of outfits. The usual suspects really; nurse, schoolgirl, playboy bunny… and then I saw it.

 Black.

Leathery.

Chainy.

Very familiar.

I puled the offensive creature off the rail and held it out in front of me as if it were covered in a toxic goo that might chemically melt off my fingertips.

It wasn’t much really.

Some leather buckles, some chains, some clasps and some studded dangly things. The whole thing looked more like an intricate web or torture; you would need a detailed manual just to put the thing on-

“Nice choice” A voice startled me and I jumped, dropping the outfit and falling back into a shelf.

And then disaster struck.

The shelf wobbled.

It tilted.

It swayed.

And then it fell, taking its contest with it.

Suddenly the floor around me was a sea of sex toys, a purple vibrator unexpectedly sprung to life vibrating and shaking so hard that it actually started moving across the floor like a large snake. Behind me a repetitive buzzing sound; I turned and saw what looked like a toilet plunger going round and round in circles.

I bent down and started picking them up. These jello-ish, wobbly, shaky, pokey creatures that were no longer inanimate objects perched on a shelf… NO, they were very much alive. And loud. Some were even flashing colorful lights. The voice that had startled me belonged to a nerdy looking guy wearing a Star Wars T-shirt, and a pair of army boots.

“Don’t worry about it.” He said bending down and standing up again with something that looked like a Christmas decoration.

“I’m so sorry, you startled me and-“

“No worries, it happens all the time.”

“What? That people knock over the shelf?” I was desperately trying to find the off switch to a distinctively tropical looking thing that also seemed to be playing Reggae music.

“No. That I startle people.” He said with a deadpan delivery. It was a little creepy.

A few minutes later we had finally managed to get all the battery operated toys back onto the shelves and shut down. The whole thing had been so traumatic though, that I’d forgotten why I was there, so when the guy asked me…

“So, is there something I can help you with?”

*Blank.

“Uh… um….”

And then I remembered.

“Yes, I’m looking for a movie.”

 “You’ve come to the right place,” He said with that deadpan tone again. “So what you into?”

“Um…”

“S&M, BDSM, CFNM, BBW, M&M, hardcore, soft-core, some where in the middle core, bi sexual, transsexual, tri sexual or Latex”

“Uh… Normal stuff, I guess”

“Aaah,” He nodded as if I’d just answered a really deep meaningful question, “Vanilla. I’ve got just the stuff for you.”

 I followed him around the corner, “This is where you’ll find your more soft stuff. I can recommend some if you like.”

“No, no thanks. I think I’ll be okay.” I smiled at him and he took this as his cue to leave, going back to the counter from whence he came.

I looked around; Lord of the G-Strings, Riding Miss Daisy, Spankenstein, Free my Willy, American Booty, and Oceans 11 Inches.

“That’s my favorite.”

Again with the startling! 

“You’ve got to stop sneaking up on people,” I said swinging round, expecting to find him behind me. But he wasn’t.

“Sorry,” He said again.

It sounded like his voice was coming from the counter, but unless he possessed binocular vision, and the ability to see around the corner and through at least three shelves- that was not possible.

Naturally I was unsettled, and then I looked up…security camera’s. This whole experience was just so stomach churningly awkward. So, 'Oceans 11 Inches' in hand, I inched my way up to the counter and slid the DVD across the table.

“That’ll be 300”

 “It’s not really true, is it?” I asked sheepishly while pulling some cash out of my wallet.

He looked at me blankly.

“You know, the 11 inches thing, I mean… that’s impossible… right?”

 “There are more things in heaven and earth, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” He said, following it with what looked like a wink, although it was hard to tell through his thick dusty lenses.

Shakespeare! Was this guy seriously quoting Shakespeare in response to a question about a penis?

It was time to get out of here, so I slipped my newly acquired purchase into my bag, which I’d strategically filled with a carton of milk and a box of cereal and slunk out.

That night- feeling like a teenager who was about to get caught doing something very naughty- I pressed play on Ocean’s 11 and sat back, hoping to glean some insight into sex, and hopefully some tips and tricks to remedy my sexual inadequacies.

But all I learnt was…  it’s true.

I spent the whole movie in such jaw- dropping- shock that I managed to glean absolutely nothing, other than…

… it really is true.