George shrugged. "Verity does the gift-wrapping." Well, she did... He sat back watching her remove the rather haphazard wrapping, revealing the box and its contents.
He'd seen the page in the magazine, and the idea hadn't let go of him, forcing him into the 'toy shop' and dragging him to the display of brightly coloured dicks.
George lifted his glass, watching her over the rim, glad that she hadn't smacked him over the head with the thing. "Pretty rude, but they had worse. Some of the boxes talked to you." He sipped at the whiskey, but slowly, enjoying the warmth but wanting nothing to do with being pissed right now.