The Red Collection Read Online Free PDF

than this.’
    ‘I’m very sorry about that, sir,’ I murmur obsequiously, ‘please let me take a look at the goods, and if they’re faulty, I assure you we’ll replace them for you.’
    Sir hands me the bag, and his brown eyes lock on mine as he looks up at me. I can see that he’s still trying to appear indignant, but there’s a strange tricky gleam about him, a sort of smile that’s not a smile, and I get a distinct feeling I’m in for big big trouble with this one.
    I open the top of the bag and look inside.
    Uh-oh …
    There’s a very popular item peeking out of the nest of shredded tissue paper. A very popular item indeed, at least with me. I wonder what on earth Sir can possibly think is wrong with it.
    ‘Ah, the Spinetingler Deluxe, one of our best-selling lines … We don’t usually have any complaints about these. They’re usually completely reliable and satisfactory.’
    The Spinetingler Deluxe is made of sturdy pink silicone, very thoughtfully shaped and very generously sized. It reminds me of another sturdy, thoughtfully shaped and very generously sized item. One that’s always completely reliable and so satisfactory that it has a tendency to make me feel as if it’s about to blow the top of my head off … It’s also pinkish, after a fashion, but more of a flesh tone.
    ‘I’d better test it, I suppose.’ I glance at Sir, and notice that he looks remarkably keen on this idea. His big brown eyes are as bright as two stars, and his nice, rather reddish mouth has now curved into a smile. It appears that the severe demeanour of a moment ago was just an act, and one he’s already as good as forgotten.
    ‘That’s an excellent idea,’ he concurs roundly. ‘It may just be that the young friend I purchased it for isn’t using it correctly, so you’d be doing us all a service if you could just show me how it works. Unfortunately it didn’t come with a user manual’
    I take out the Spinetingler and set the bag aside, conscious of Sir’s eyes following my every move with minute attention. He obviously doesn’t want to miss a single detail.
    I twist the bezel at the end of the Spinetingler.
    It buzzes like a box of angry wasps.
    I give Sir an encouraging look.
    ‘Well, it seems to work perfectly … Did your friend try twisting the knob?’
    I give said knob another twist, and the wasps get – angrier.
    ‘Of course,’ he replies, a frown pleating his fine broad brow. ‘Are you implying that my friend and I are stupid?’
    ‘No! Of course not! But this Spinetingler seems to be in perfect working order, sir.’
    ‘Ah yes, but is that all it’s supposed to do?’ His glittering eyes narrow all of a sudden. ‘As I pointed out, there weren’t any instructions in the bag with it, and it’s not immediately obvious how one is supposed to use it.’
    That’s true. Items like the Spinetingler aren’t generally supplied with an operating manual. But then again, any red-blooded woman – or man – should know almost by instinct what to do with it. I get the feeling that Sir is just being deliberately obtuse. You get characters like this in the retail trade all the time, and it’s usually best for business to try and play along with them.
    The customer is always right and all that stuff, don’t you know?
    ‘Perhaps a brief demonstration would help?’ he suggests, in anticipation. For a moment he purses his lips, and seems to find it difficult to meet my eyes. But then his broad face straightens again, and he gives me a long, almost imperious look.
    ‘Of course, if you think so …’
    ‘Oh, I know so,’ he confirms with great authority, settling his large form more comfortably in the chair and tweaking at his long unglamorous raincoat again. He seems to be making certain that it fully covers his lap.
    ‘Well, usually a young lady would tend to use this sort of item at night, in the privacy of her bed, or perhaps in her bath in the case of the waterproof version.’ I twist the bezel