Sex and Jelly Beans

Last night Ted and Gary and their super intelligent dog, Brian, came round to Denmark Hill to play poker.

Guido and I are completely broke right now so I said we’d only agree to take part on one condition – we bet with Jelly Beans. It seemed like a terrific idea, though forfeiting my favourite flavours was more difficult than I’d anticipated.

“Have you ever had sex on anything that happened to be moving at the time?” asked Ted. He’s nothing if not direct.

I sensed this could be a ruse to distract me from what was shaping up to be a terrible hand. I shuffled my cards. I fingered a Buttered Popcorn flavoured bean expectantly. I could feel Brian watching my every move. I think he may have an unhealthy interest in Jelly Beans.

“No,” I said, “but my first serious boyfriend did have a king-sized water bed. Does that count? I’ll see you and raise you with two Cotton Candy.”

Two Cotton Candy? What was I thinking? I watched them land in the middle of the table and I can tell you, it hurt.

“Was that the same creep who hid a suit of armour in his closet but bizarrely kept trying to get you to put it on?” asked Gary. “I’ll see your Cotton Candy and throw in a Lemon Drop.”

I chewed my nail. I momentarily thought back to those naive but heady days of youth at Coleman’s semi-detached house in Kensal Rise. What we got up to in there made 50 Shades Of Grey look a pale and unappealing beige. There wasn’t much I wasn’t willing to try back then though I can tell you there’s only so much you can do with a medieval head visor on at the time.

“Yeah, I had to keep telling him to try not to make any sudden movements. I could put up with the odd ripple, but if he got over excited it could get choppy on account of all that water.”

“I’ll see your Lemon Drop and raise you with a Strawbery Cheesecake,” said Guido casually. “But explain – on anything that happened to be moving – during sex?”

I liked Guido’s style. I could tell he was subtly trying to throw Ted off his game. That Strawberry Cheesecake bid was a total master stroke if you ask me. I noticed Brian nodding sagely.

“Well, I told Ted two passengers on my flight yesterday joined the mile high club,” said Gary. “They disappeared over the North Sea and I never saw them again until the outskirts of Paris. There’s only so much to hold one’s interest in a turbo-prop washroom,” he sniffed. And as a career Flight Attendant, Gary should know.

“Oh please,” I said. I started to unconsciously nibble on an Island Punch, closely followed by a Top Banana. The combination was odd but not entirely unpleasant. “Who the hell were were they, a couple of Hobbits? I can barely find the space in there to turn around and wipe my own ass.”

But let’s not go there.

Much later, when Guido and I were alone in bed, I successfully dropped a Jalepeno Jelly Bean into his belly button cavity.

“I can reassure you,” he said, “there’s only one thing I want to see moving during sex.”

Obviously, I got him to prove it.

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