Married life with Harold and Petra is...well, exactly as it seems. But it might be about to get spicier.
It was a Tuesday night. Petra had just put out the Green Bin and fed the cat, and now she was trawling through the darker recesses of (as she referred to it) 'the E-bay'. The bright screen was starting to hurt her eyes, but she reminded herself with some pride that she was saving the planet by not turning on the lamp. Just another page, she thought, then maybe she'd find something...suitable.
Her husband wandered in. He stood in the doorway, mug in hand.
"Petra? Why are you sitting in the dark?," he said, switching on the light.
"You know what they say, Harold, keep the lights off if you're not using them!".
Petra's Mother had found one of her Father's "forbidden" magazines at the fruitful age of eleven. She only got an eye-full, but the blurb deemed that the name that went with the topless, sultry women arching on the page was "Petra". In that moment, she'd vowed to call her daughter that. With a name like that, she'd be wild and mysterious with an exotic name that brought the boys running to her.
In high school, Petra had played rugby and kissed girls. The boys thought she was a male exchange student.
Harold stood awkwardly a moment, then switched the light back off. All he could see now was the silhouette of his wife, the computer screen giving her an odd sort of halo. In their early days, he'd always called Petra his 'angel'.
He wandered over to the screen, where a page was open titled ""SEXY FISHNET OPEN CROTCH BONDAGE BODYSTOCKING LINGERIE CATSUIT BLACK RED PURPLE EROTIC"".
Maybe not so much of an angel.
He made a neutral "Hm!" sound, the sort usually reserved for if he'd just found something interesting in The Guardian.
"Sorry. Are you into open crotch bondage now, dear?," his wife asked, eyes not leaving the screen and her eyes flew over the postage costs of a "PVC FAUX LEATHER SPANDEX FETISH CLUBWEAR CATSUIT".
He leaned toward the screen, squinting behind his glasses. "Ooh, that's a bit frisky, isn't it?"
"Well, Harold, Trisha has been telling me that 'spicing up' her sex life worked wonders for her marriage"
"Spices? In the bedroom? That sounds painful, dear"
"It's a metaphor, darling"
"Oh, I was just thinking about..."
In college, he'd once got into a situation involving an art student, cayenne pepper and a bottle of Pineapple Lube. He shuddered in his dressing gown.
"Nevermind. Crotch bondage it is, if that's what you think!"
"It's an open crotch bondage suit, dear."
"Oh, of course".
He took a sip of his tea, raising his eyebrows.
How long did things take to arrive from Hong Kong anyway?