Limp Dicks & Saggy Tits

by Tracie Podger

  “I think twenty minutes must have passed by now,” I said. I continued to push up until I slid off and was standing.

  “We can stay here for a little longer,” Ronan said, adjusting his cock to a more comfortable position.

  “Let me run down and give Mrs Dingle the key,” I said.

  I left him and bounded down the stairs. I knocked on Mrs Dingle’s door and received no answer. I checked my watch. It had been nearly half an hour since Danny had left. I knocked again. When I received no answer the second time, I tried jiggling the letterbox. It was firmly closed.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I said. I opened the main front door and looked both ways up the road. There was no sign of her.

  I knocked on the door opposite, not knowing the name of the occupants but hoping they might recognise me as a neighbour. There was no answer there, either. I peered through the letterbox, hoping to see someone. I cursed again because the flat looked empty.

  I walked back up for my mobile.

  “All done?” Ronan asked.

  “There’s no one in,” I said. I rifled through my handbag to find my phone. I dialled Joe.

  “Hi, are you busy?” I asked when he answered.

  “I’m at a property, but I have a minute. The potentials are having a wander around by themselves. What’s up? I thought you were off to Scotland sexing.”

  “Sexing? What on earth is that?” I laughed. “I have a problem. I agreed to take Danny’s keys to give to Mrs Dingle in number one, but she isn’t in, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “Mrs who?”

  “That’s what Danny calls her. Anyway, I need to give her the keys; she’s nailed her letterbox shut because she was fed up with the postman, so I can’t even pop them through. No one is in number two, and I need to leave.”

  “Why do you keep agreeing to things Danny asks?” he said.

  “I know, I know. Can you help me? Someone has to feed the bloody cat.”

  “Tell you what, you feed the cat now, make sure he has water and whatever. I won’t be home until tonight, so I’ll pop down and get the key from yours. She must be home by then.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave his key on my hallway table. Thank you, love you, and remember, Ronan invited you up to visit. You can come and see the nudist camp,” I said, with a laugh.

  “I’ll be up next week. I’ve moved some appointments. Go and feed the fucking cat, and I’ll call you tonight.”

  I relayed the conversation to Ronan, and together we walked to Danny’s. There was no need for the two of us, but the last time we’d been in there, there had been a dead cat and handcuffs. Ronan wanted to see if it had changed any.

  “I’m not sure we should be snooping,” I said, as I headed to the kitchen and he, to the bedroom.

  “Oh come on, you know you want to. I’m only going to see if the dead cat is still on his bed.”

  It was wrong. I knew it was, but for some reason, I tiptoed to the bedroom. Danny had left me in the shit so, in my mind, it was fair dues. Ronan opened the door and looked in—he quickly pulled it shut.

  “What?” I asked. “What’s in there?”

  “You don’t want to see,” he said. I bloody well did.

  I pushed past him and opened the door. “What the fuck…?”

  Lying on the bed was a blow-up doll. A doll with no clothes on, a mouth shaped like an O and with her legs parted. I stepped close to look.

  “She has hooha hair!” I said, astonished.

  Ronan covered his mouth to suppress the laughter. Why we thought we had to sneak and be quiet, I had no idea.

  I stepped even closer. “That’s disgusting.”

  The dead cat was in its position between the pillows. The handcuffs were still there, and a thought ran through me.

  “You don’t think he handcuffs it, do you?” I said, turning to Ronan.

  He couldn’t speak for laughing.

  “She’s got scuff marks on her wrists,” I said, pointing to it.

  He still couldn’t speak for laughing. I was beginning to giggle as well.

  “We need to get out of here. You didn’t let the cat in, did you? He might puncture it,” I said.

  I couldn’t get a word of sense from Ronan. I tutted and pushed past him. I pursed my lips to suck in air and call for Pat. I heard a thump as if he’d jumped down from somewhere and discovered him padding across the living room floor. I walked into the kitchen to find his food bowls. I wasn’t going to bother with the litter tray, assuming Danny would have cleaned it that morning anyway. I washed the bowl, and placed some food in it, topped up his biscuits and gave him fresh water. All the while, he sat on the kitchen table and stared at me with his devil eyes. I wasn’t sure a cat should be sitting on the kitchen table, although I didn’t believe, judging by the death and plastic on his bed, Danny was particularly worried about hygiene.

  However, I picked up a magazine and prodded Pat. He stared at me some more. I prodded him again. He didn’t flinch.

  “Blink, you bastard,” I said. He neither answered me, obviously, nor blinked. I’d never thought to question whether a cat blinks or not. “I hope your eyeballs dry up.”

  “Interesting reading,” Ronan said, taking the magazine from my hands. He showed me the cover of two naked men in a rather compromising position.

  I grabbed it from his hands to take a closer look and also wondered if I might book an eye appointment.

  “Oh,” I said. One naked man was bent over the back of the sofa, and the other was behind him.

  He most certainly wasn’t scratching his back because his friend had an itch. A thought hit me, and I threw down the magazine. That startled Pat who jumped from the kitchen table.

  “He could be using that to…” I screwed up my eyes and immediately ran the hot tap. I squirted washing up liquid on my hands and thoroughly washed them.

  “Your friend certainly has some strange habits. How old is this Mrs Dingle?” Ronan asked finally gaining his composure.

  “Ancient. He left a dead cat out for me, a blow-up sex doll for her, yeah, I think strange is a good word to describe him.”

  I just didn’t get Danny at all. If Mrs Dingle thought Pat was in the bedroom, she’d search for him, just as I had and found the stuffed cat. Why on earth would he leave that out, if not as a prank? Except, it wasn’t funny. Well, it wasn’t funny to me, although Ronan kept leaking the odd chuckle.

  We left the flat, and I locked up. I placed the keys, as promised, on my hallway table and took one last look around the flat. When it came time for me to move, most of what I had would fit in a van, and I could have the removal company deliver my things from storage. There would be some items I’d need to buy. I didn’t empty my home of all the contents, just one of everything that was doubled up, and my personal items.

  It was going to be a long drive to Scotland, and I offered for us to stay at the flat and leave early the following morning, but despite the fact we would arrive late at night, Ronan was keen to get going.

  “Maybe you can give me driving lessons, a refresher, when we get there so I can share the driving with you,” I said, as I settled into the car.

  “I don’t mind driving, to be honest. I guess I do so much of it,” he replied.

  It wasn’t long before we hit the motorway and to break up the monotony Ronan flicked through the radio channels until he came to a quiz show. We alternated with the answers, playing against each other and his knowledge was immense. Not only was he up on current affairs, something I had no interest in, his understanding of world politics was impressive. We debated the benefits, and non-benefits, of European and other worldwide leaders, deciding we were pretty much, politically, on the same page. He told me of some of the countries he had visited. How he’d taken a year out and travelled to Brazil, sailed part of the Amazon, got sick in Indonesia while on an orang-utan conservation programme and nearly died. He’d scuba-dived the Great Barrier Reef, and eaten bugs in Africa while building homes.

  “I wish
I’d done some of that. Now I look back, and I wonder what my life would have been like had I not married so young. I always dreamed of travelling. I remember having a list of countries that I wanted to visit. I don’t think I’ve been to one of them. Harry’s idea of a wonderful holiday was a cruise around the Med. We did that year in and year out to the point I rarely got off the boat, I’d seen the sites so many times.”

  “Nothing stopping you having an adult gap year. It’s all the rage,” he said.

  “Yeah, I can just about get myself from my flat to the gym with only taking a wrong turn once.”

  “I don’t know why you don’t consider it. It’s enriching. I can say that. I learned more about me and about life in general in that one year than I have in all my years on this planet. Seriously, there are companies that will organise an adult gap year for you if you don’t want to do it yourself,” he said, with a smile.

  As much as I loved his enthusiasm for travel and the adventures he’d undertaken, it was another reminder that what we had wasn’t permanent. I hid the sadness.

  “It might be nice to take a long holiday on land somewhere,” I said, not really knowing what more to say.

  “I can’t do beach holidays. I have to be active,” he said, as he indicated to pull into the services. “Need diesel, do you need to pee?”

  “I’ll squeeze one out, I’m sure,” I said, at which he laughed. “Strange things happen to our bladders when we hit fifty. They grow their own mind. One minute, no pee, seconds later, busting to go. Laugh, you leak. Sneeze, you leak. It’s why I keep a spare pair of knickers in my bag,” I said, laughing with him.

  Chat about spare knickers reminded me that I needed to stock up on some panty liners. While Ronan filled up the car, I browsed the meagre offerings and wondered if we should head around the main service area and hope they had a chemist. I kept a watch on him, and when he slotted the nozzle back into the pump, I headed to the counter and paid. I exited just as he entered.

  “I’ve paid,” I said.

  “Okay. I’ll get some cash and give it back,” he replied.

  “I don’t want it back. Now, do you think we could go to the main service area? I need some bits from a chemist.”

  “Sure, which reminds me…” He didn’t finish his sentence, and we walked back to the car dodging the puddles of diesel that I felt should have been sanded over at least.

  We drove around to the main part, and Ronan walked with me to the chemist. We separated at the aisles, and I was thankful, I didn’t really want him helping me choose panty liners. I grabbed my usual, doubling up in case I couldn’t buy them in town, and headed for the counter. Just as the cashier was about to ring up my purchases, I heard Ronan call out to wait.

  “Can you add these?” he asked the cashier and planted two twenty pound notes in my hand.

  I looked at what he’d added to the counter and wanted to shrink. Condoms, various tubes of lubricant, a cock ring, and some liquid that was meant to prolong orgasm, so the label said. I turned to see him gone.

  “Bastard,” I whispered, and the cashier, without batting an eyelid, rang up the purchases.

  “Would you like a bag? Five pence.” I nodded, what did she think I was going to do with it all? It would hardly fit in my little bag, and I had no intention of parading around with a cock ring in my hand.

  “He can bloody well pay for my panty liners,” I mumbled to myself.

  “Sorry, I didn’t catch that, was there anything else you needed?” the cashier asked.

  “No, I think we have enough for now,” said the reappearing Ronan.

  I paid for the items but refused to carry the bag. Ronan laughed as he swung it around, proud of its contents.

  “That was mean,” I said. “And what’s with the cock ring?”

  “Never used one, saw it, thought it might be fun,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

  “I’m not taking any drugs,” I said, huffing my way over to Costa to grab us some takeout coffee.

  “It’s hardly illegal or dangerous if it’s sold in Boots and made by Durex, is it?” he said, rather too loudly for my liking.

  I bought two coffees and handed him one. He leaned forward and kissed my temple in thanks. We walked back to the car and continued our journey.

  It was dark when I was woken by my stomach grumbling. We were off the motorway, but I wasn’t sure exactly where. I straightened myself in the seat.

  “Did I fall asleep?” I asked, knowing full well I had but that always seemed the right thing to ask.

  “No, you’ve been riveting company. Told me all about your sexual fantasies, which was interesting,” he replied. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the road.

  “Ha ha. Where are we?”

  “We’ve just gone past Oban, so about another half an hour and we’ll be home. Maggie has left some food for us in the kitchen.”

  “I never asked, do they live in the house as well?”

  “Sort of, there are a couple of annexes attached. I’ll show you. I need to open the window a little to get some fresh air to wake me up. Are you okay with that?”

  “Of course.” I hadn’t thought that he might be tired and cursed myself, again, for not getting my driving skills up to scratch.

  The blast of icy air soon changed my mind. I reached around to the rear seats and grabbed Ronan’s coat, wrapped it around myself and breathed in deep to capture his scent.

  “I can shut this,” he said.

  “No, I’m snug now.”

  We continued the rest of the journey in silence until we came to the gates. Ronan pushed a button mounted on the dashboard and the gates started to swing open.

  “Had those fixed,” he said with a smile and clearly pleased with himself.

  “One thing off the list,” I replied.

  The drive to the house had the same effect as the very first time I approached. The gravel road with fields either side led the eye perfectly to the grey stone building with its two turrets and Saltire flag blowing in the breeze.

  “Do you lower that when you’re not home?” I joked.

  “Always good to be proud of your heritage,” he said, with a smile.

  “Is probate all done now?” I asked as we came to a stop.

  “Yep, and Rich has been paid off. So, Lizzie, I can officially welcome you to my home.”

  I smiled at him as he left the car and ran around to open my door. “I’m pleased for you,” I said, taking his hand so he could help me down.

  We walked to the boot and unloaded the suitcase and bags. A light had been left on over the front door, and the minute I stepped through, the house felt different. There was warmness. I could feel that some love was being injected back into the old place. I left my bags by the stairs and followed Ronan to the kitchen.

  “Blimey, the Aga’s working well,” I said. The warmth in the kitchen was ten degrees higher than the vast hallway we’d just walked through.

  “It works a bloody treat. The repairman was most impressed. He recalled his dad installing it years ago!”

  “No way. How amazing that he was able to fix it.”

  “Yeah. He even took some photographs to display on his website. What we’re now doing is having the enamel repaired as well.”

  The cream Aga had some digs and dents, some chips in corners, but to me, that added to the charm. I could still smell the bread that Maggie had made, and I hoped that when I lifted the tea towel covering something on the kitchen table, I’d find some. Ronan opened the fridge to find a plate of cheese, and I put the kettle on to boil. With the tea made, we sat at the table, and I sliced off some bread.

  “This smells delicious,” I said, cutting some cheese and scooping a spoonful of homemade pickle onto my plate.

  I savoured the bread and cheese while making too many ridiculous noises of appreciation for Maggie and the Aga. When I was done eating, I stretched and yawned.

  “Bedtime,” Ronan said. We cleared the plates, and a moment of doubt hit me.

&
nbsp; Would I be sleeping alone in the same room I’d stayed in before? Ronan carried my suitcase up, and he walked past the bedroom I assumed to be his, and to the one I’d used, with the en-suite bathroom. He placed the suitcase on a small table beside the wardrobe and kicked off his shoes. He flopped on the bed and patted the space beside him.

  “This is actually my bedroom so, do you mind if I share it with you?” he asked.

  “Why did you give me your bedroom? I would have been comfortable anywhere,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “Because this one has a functioning bathroom. The room I slept in, which was Rich’s, doesn’t.”

  “Why was…” I didn’t want to finish the sentence that was on my mind, which was to ask why Demi’s photograph was in Rich’s bedroom and not Ronan’s. “Why don’t I go and clean my teeth?” I said.

  I was halfway through scrubbing my teeth when shirtless Ronan walked into the bathroom. He unzipped his trousers and peed. He smiled at me as he did, and I shook my head. In all my years of marriage, Harry never once shared a bathroom with me. In fact, we had completely separate rooms; separate bedrooms as well towards the end. He blamed his snoring and bad back on needing to sleep alone, which, of course, was an all-out lie. Ronan finished his pee and flushed. He left his trousers undone but, thankfully, did tuck his cock away. He stood beside me at the sink while he washed his hands. It seemed the most natural thing in the world.

  “Fuck it, toothbrush,” he said. He left the room and shortly returned to do his own teeth.

  By the time he was done, I was under the duvet.

  He slid in beside me. “Pyjama’s?” He laughed.

  “A vest top and shorts, not exactly a onesie,” I replied. “You never know, there might be a fire, and we’ll need to get out quick.”

  He snuggled in beside me and placed his hand on my stomach. He ran it up, dragging the vest top with him.

  “Easy to get off, I see,” he said. I raised my arms above my head so he could do just that.