sitting at the kitchen table doing her best to compose something suitably raunchy on the laptop. Scott was just finishing the crossword.
‘Scottie, what word should I use for vagina?’
‘What’s wrong with vagina?’
‘I just wonder if it isn’t naughty enough. Should I say … ?’ She paused, unsure how to continue. ‘Should I use a stronger word? Maybe the “c” word?’
‘Woah, there, Pen. This isn’t
Lady Chatterley
, you know.’
‘Well, to be quite honest, this erotic novel thing is supposed to be a whole lot sexier than Lawrence. We’re talking whips and canes and things.’
‘Yes, Pen, but that’s just kinky stuff. The icing on the cake, so to speak. You can’t use a word like that.’
‘Scottie, you’ve gone quite red. Have I crossed some kind of line here? Is that a taboo word?’
‘Well, how often do
you
use it? When’s the last time you said to yourself, “I really must scratch my you-know-what”?’
‘I suppose you’re right, not that I scratch my you-know-what half as often as you two boys fiddle with your bits.’
‘It’s complicated down there for us chaps. It all needs rearranging from time to time.’
‘Too much information, thanks, Scottie. But this is set in the 1800s. I can’t use a word like pussy. It’s too modern. Scott, you’ve gone red again.’
‘I’m sorry, Pen, it’s just that I’m not used to having this sort of conversation with you. With Jamie it’s all the time, but with a girl?’
‘So I’m still a girl, am I? I thought I was an old auntie.’
‘I never had an auntie who looked as good as you, Pen.’
‘That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me, Scott. Thank you. Now help me with my vagina.’
‘Oh lord. Well, your piece is set in the South of France, isn’t it? Isn’t there some French word you could use? You could say, he rammed his Aznavour up her Sarkozy, and nobody would be shocked and appalled.’
‘Now there’s a thought.’
‘So how do you say it in French?’
‘Say what, Scottie?’ She pretended innocence.
‘Sarkozy of course.’ He was fighting back.
‘Well, let me see. Do you know, I thought I spoke pretty good French, but I only know one or two very ordinary terms for that part of the body. More to the point, what word would they have used in the nineteenth century? I know. How about
chatte
? That’s a female cat, but it also works as you-know-what.’
‘Thank God you’ve sorted that out. So, what’s the plot, then? Do I get to read it?’
She had been thinking about that. ‘It’s probably best if you don’t, Scott. It’s bad enough knowing that this Marshall man is going to be reading it. The thought of somebody I know and like … Why, you might be so disgusted, you would never speak to me again.’
‘I won’t be disgusted. I promise. But it might be a good idea to let somebody else see it before you send it in. You know what they say. Two heads etc.’
‘All right then. I’ve just got to stick in a few
chattes
and I’m done. Upon your own head be it. Why don’t you make us a cup of tea while I’m finishing off?’
He did as bidden, while she inserted a few nineteenth-century French vaginas. As he appeared with the tea, she clicked
Save
.
‘Well, if you’re sure you want to read it, it’s done. Read it on the screen. That way if anything needs changing, I can do it, before printing it out.’ She passed him the computer and went upstairs.
When she came back down again, he was well into it. He looked up briefly as she came past him. She sat down on the sofa and raised an eyebrow.
‘Disgusted yet?’
‘It’s amazing, Pen. All this time, living alongside you, and I never realised you were such a–’
‘Pervert?’ Her tone was light, but she was worried.
‘No, no, not at all. I was going to say, such a good writer. Can I make a confession?’ He was red in the face. ‘I would never have thought that just reading the written word could give me a hard-on. But it
‘Scottie, what word should I use for vagina?’
‘What’s wrong with vagina?’
‘I just wonder if it isn’t naughty enough. Should I say … ?’ She paused, unsure how to continue. ‘Should I use a stronger word? Maybe the “c” word?’
‘Woah, there, Pen. This isn’t
Lady Chatterley
, you know.’
‘Well, to be quite honest, this erotic novel thing is supposed to be a whole lot sexier than Lawrence. We’re talking whips and canes and things.’
‘Yes, Pen, but that’s just kinky stuff. The icing on the cake, so to speak. You can’t use a word like that.’
‘Scottie, you’ve gone quite red. Have I crossed some kind of line here? Is that a taboo word?’
‘Well, how often do
you
use it? When’s the last time you said to yourself, “I really must scratch my you-know-what”?’
‘I suppose you’re right, not that I scratch my you-know-what half as often as you two boys fiddle with your bits.’
‘It’s complicated down there for us chaps. It all needs rearranging from time to time.’
‘Too much information, thanks, Scottie. But this is set in the 1800s. I can’t use a word like pussy. It’s too modern. Scott, you’ve gone red again.’
‘I’m sorry, Pen, it’s just that I’m not used to having this sort of conversation with you. With Jamie it’s all the time, but with a girl?’
‘So I’m still a girl, am I? I thought I was an old auntie.’
‘I never had an auntie who looked as good as you, Pen.’
‘That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me, Scott. Thank you. Now help me with my vagina.’
‘Oh lord. Well, your piece is set in the South of France, isn’t it? Isn’t there some French word you could use? You could say, he rammed his Aznavour up her Sarkozy, and nobody would be shocked and appalled.’
‘Now there’s a thought.’
‘So how do you say it in French?’
‘Say what, Scottie?’ She pretended innocence.
‘Sarkozy of course.’ He was fighting back.
‘Well, let me see. Do you know, I thought I spoke pretty good French, but I only know one or two very ordinary terms for that part of the body. More to the point, what word would they have used in the nineteenth century? I know. How about
chatte
? That’s a female cat, but it also works as you-know-what.’
‘Thank God you’ve sorted that out. So, what’s the plot, then? Do I get to read it?’
She had been thinking about that. ‘It’s probably best if you don’t, Scott. It’s bad enough knowing that this Marshall man is going to be reading it. The thought of somebody I know and like … Why, you might be so disgusted, you would never speak to me again.’
‘I won’t be disgusted. I promise. But it might be a good idea to let somebody else see it before you send it in. You know what they say. Two heads etc.’
‘All right then. I’ve just got to stick in a few
chattes
and I’m done. Upon your own head be it. Why don’t you make us a cup of tea while I’m finishing off?’
He did as bidden, while she inserted a few nineteenth-century French vaginas. As he appeared with the tea, she clicked
Save
.
‘Well, if you’re sure you want to read it, it’s done. Read it on the screen. That way if anything needs changing, I can do it, before printing it out.’ She passed him the computer and went upstairs.
When she came back down again, he was well into it. He looked up briefly as she came past him. She sat down on the sofa and raised an eyebrow.
‘Disgusted yet?’
‘It’s amazing, Pen. All this time, living alongside you, and I never realised you were such a–’
‘Pervert?’ Her tone was light, but she was worried.
‘No, no, not at all. I was going to say, such a good writer. Can I make a confession?’ He was red in the face. ‘I would never have thought that just reading the written word could give me a hard-on. But it
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