An Elephant Never Forgets

Elephants, the room was full of elephants. Big cuddly elephants, small ceramic elephants, wooden elephants, plastic elephants, pictures of elephants - everywhere I looked there was a trunk or a tusk or an elephant’s ass staring back at me. I reckoned there were at least 35-40 elephants in that room.

She’d not mentioned elephants for the entire evening. You’d think for someone more than a little obsessed by pachyderms she’d have brought them up in conversation. But no, she’d kept her elephantine fascination firmly under wraps.

‘Elephaaahaherher...’ I said as I heard her come into the room. The word trailed off as I looked around to see her standing before me wearing nothing but the cutest smile you could imagine. I stepped forward and kissed her, tasting her minty tongue. My hands hovered over her skin, exploring her shapes, her hand on my neck seemingly pulling my even closer to her.

We had sex like only strangers can, it was wild, passionate, carefree but something missing, as we both made love to our previous partners while making love to each other.

As we lay there smoking a cigarette feeling slightly self-conscious and sweaty, I looked around the room.

‘So what’s with all these elephants?’ I asked.

‘Every time my husband goes on a trip, he brings me back an elephant,’ she said matter of factly.

‘You’re married?’ I said and then notice the male paraphernalia around the room. Funny how you miss that when lust mists your eyes.

‘Does it matter?’ she asked. I supposed it didn’t really. I didn’t have any illusions this was anything other than a one-night stand.

‘So why are so many facing the wall?’ I asked.

‘Guilt,’ she said. ‘An elephant never forgets, so if I’ve taken a lover while Charlie is away, I can’t look at the elephant he gives me.’

I looked around the room, I was impressed, this woman had a lot of elephants’ backsides on display.