The unaccounted-for dildos.

A Series in 17 parts, By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

 

At

St Michael's church hall, Jenna was making the most of her day off from

work. That was the good thing about being part-time. Getting Mondays

off. The downside? Monday was the day her husband started writing his

sermon. In desperation, she'd agreed to help the ladies of the Mother's

Union out at the church hall. It was more interesting than listening to

Simon read out long paragraphs. The MU ladies were elderly, but fun to

talk too. And boy, did they love to gossip. As a vicar's wife, she'd

become privy to all sorts of information. However, Jenna wasn't one for

such tittle-tattle, and would just politely humor the nosey old dears.

"Excuse

me, a stressed-looking delivery man said, knocking on the church hall

door. Parcel here for St Michael's Mother's Union?"

"Hi!

I'll take that off your hands," Jenna said. "I have a feeling this is

the box of long overdue advent calendars everyone's been moaning about."

"Nothing to do with me," the man replied. "Blame the guys at the other end. We're short-staffed."

"I understand," Jenna replied, signing for the parcel. "You're doing a wonderful job. Have a wonderful Christmas!"

"Uh; cheers," the man muttered, not used to compliments.

"No

use selling these at the Christmas Fair seeing as that was yesterday,

and we're four days into December." Jenna said, as she set the box on a

table. "What can we do with thirty advent calendars? I know. I could

extract all the chocolate pieces, recycle the packaging; put the

chocolate in a big bowl and the children could help themselves at next

week's service;“

She opened the box and got a shock at what was contained within.

"Holy; she;“

"I say, Mrs. Morris, whatever's that?"

Jenna jumped as one of the Mother's Union members returned from the hall kitchen.

"Er, hello Mrs. Grimes it's a;“

"A horse's saddle? What ruddy great twerp donated that?"

"Um;“

"We've

had some strange donations over the years, but this! It takes the

biscuit! Just look at this!" She rummaged in the box and pulled out a

riding crop, mask and blinkers. "A job lot of horse tack! Did Frankie

Dettori donate it?"

"Perhaps?"

Jenna replied, trying to keep a straight face as the elderly woman held

up an enormous purple dildo, shaped like a horse penis, and looked at

it in utter confusion.

"This must be for giving liquid medicine to horses."

"Last

year, someone donated a bus stop sign, a chamber pot and a false leg,"

another woman piped up. "The bus stop sign was really popular. We got

fifty quid for it."

"How

ridiculous!" Mrs. Grimes replied. "We can't sell this at the Advent

tombola. No horsey folk round here. You might as well take it down to

the charity shop; or mail it to Aintree racecourse;“

"Er; I'll stick to the charity shop, Mrs. Grimes. Think of the postage cost."

"Ah, yes. Good thinking. Right, well, I'll leave it up to you then."

"I'll

get rid of it," Jenna said, then spotted an invoice. Unfolding it, her

eyes widened. "Shit; I must get this stuff to Norman before anyone else

sees it and realizes what it actually is!" She chuckled. "I bet Gladys

is behind it! Absolutely shameless!"

Jenna admired the old lady. "I hope I can have fun like that if I live to be as old as her. She's got the right attitude."

Hurrying out of the church hall with the big box, she didn't look where she was going and bumped into someone.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she spluttered, as the box fell to the ground, some of its contents tumbling out.

"That's

quite alright, you look loaded up," the man replied. "Ah! Simon's dear

wife. Nice to meet you again, my dear!" He shook her hand.

"Oh;

Reverend Fletcher! If you're looking for Simon, he's at the vicarage,

writing his;“ She froze as he bent down and picked up a horse mask and

dildo.

"My, my. Is this a Secret Santa for the good vicar, eh?" Reverend Fletcher chuckled.

"It's not mine," Jenna replied quickly. "It was delivered to the hall by mistake."