Ann Summers - what a carry on!

Yes, I went to an Ann Summers party last night. At the welfare centre - hardly a venue to conjure up erotic fantasies, but as it turned out neither was one single item of our good lady Ann's wares.

I had to 'fess up to the party host (who was seventy years old if she was a day, with an assistant who was admittedly younger, but a good ten stone overweight, so not sure how either of them managed with the crotchless panties or peekaboo bras, but hey, who says you have to actually use your product to be able to sell it?) to being pretty much an Ann Summers 'virgin', as the last time I attended one of these events was almost twenty years ago. Yes, me a virgin, ha, ha. And that was just the first of one of the many, many quasi smutty wisecracks of the evening ('if you wear this skimpy secretary's outfit, ladies, you'll certainly get a rise from your boss' etc.).

We had to do a truth game, where you took a dried pea for each sex question you could answer in the affirmative ('Have a pea, if you've ever had oral sex, ladies', for example). Having never had a threesome (unless you count the dog being in the room at the same time) or fantasised about another man, I was pretty much the Sandra Dee of the group. Most people seem to fantasise about Johnny Depp, it appears. At least I think they meant Johnny Depp: 'You know, the Willy Wonka one' - so they could have meant Gene Wilder (surely not?) or some random chap with an uneven todger perhaps? Well, I don't.
And I don't dress up as a naughty secretary, either.
And I certainly don't want anything to do with those enormous pulsating bubblegum-pink things with rabbit faces on them.
Actually felt quite squemish whilst the vibrators were being passed around. They were sort of tacky and sinister at the same time. Like scary christmas decorations.
Everyone else seemed to think it was perfectly normal to consider getting intimate with something that looked like a fluorescant pulsating cactus.
So it was quite difficult deciding what to purchase from Ann's tasteful catalogue of sensual delights. You see, I absolutely had to buy something, as is the way with these events - it's really no different from Tupperware or Partylite or any of those other ones. Oh, except that I'm supposed to embrace the idea of talking about my sex life with the women who look after my children.
Didn't I mention? The Ann Summer's party was a fund raiser for creche. Uh-huh. It's these voracious man-eaters (with a penchant for scratchy lace and Carry On style fantasies) who look after my lovely Twins on a regular basis.
Doesn't bear dwelling on, really.