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"No." Maybe I'd seen one in a magazine once, but that model had a far more complicated design. And I won't admit to Emery I looked at a magazine that has ads for that sort of device.
She waves the vibrator in my face.
My eyes track the object's movements.
"It won't bite," she says. Then she drapes an arm around my neck. "Can't promise I won't, though."
"Yes, I'm aware of that." I touch my shoulder where she'd bitten me on our wedding night. "You are a she-wolf."
"Salvaged our wedding night, didn't I?"
"You did."
She tosses the vibrator onto the bed.
I wish she would put it in a box where I can't see it.
"Got a question," she says. "Can you recommend a local doctor? I have a prescription that'll need refilling soon."
I drop the scarf I'd been folding. "Prescription? Are you ill?"
"No, I'm on the pill."
"What pill?"
"Birth control, Rory."
I tug at the collar of my shirt. "I see. I'll arrange an appoint—"
"Uh-uh. I can do it myself."
Annoyance flashes through me, but I square my shoulders and shake it off. "I will give you the number for my GP, Dr. Buchanan. He's in Loch Fairbairn."
Emery kisses my cheek. "Thanks. You're the sweetest."
I roll my eyes.
She turns to another box, bringing out a small photo album that has a plain grey cover. Her lips tick up at the corners as she flips through the pages.
"Catch," she says, hurling the photo album at me, and I catch it in one hand. "Think of that as your menu for excitement."
Menu? Cautiously, I thumb through the four-by-six-inch pages. Each holds a photo of Emery in a different costume. Greek goddess. Wonder Woman, I think. And this one looks like Princess Leia from one of those Star Wars films, the scantily clad version of her. I know about those movies only because Jamie made me watch all fifty of them. Well, it might've been slightly less than fifty. I'm not a science fiction addict.
One picture intrigues me, and I pause to inspect it.
"Like that one?" Emery asks, leaning over to peek at it. "That's my ancient Egyptian dancer costume."
"Are you naked?" I ask, humiliated by how excited I sound. I've seen my wife's nude body before. But this photograph…
"Not naked. I'm wearing a flesh-colored bodysuit." She swirls a fingertip over the image. "For you, I'd nix the bodysuit. You'd get me wearing nothing but a skinny belt and a long black wig."
In the picture, a braided wig drapes down to shield her breasts, while the end of each braid seems to be weighted with beads. She also wears a white headband and sandals.
"You wore this in public?" I ask, gawping at her.
"Uh-huh. It was an office Halloween party held at a nightclub, organized by me and my work buddies. The two you met, Pam and Sabri."
"Men saw you dressed this way?"
