Here's something new. Can't see it being more than a few parts. Let me know what you think. Personally I have built a love-hate relationship with the title already.
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An erection is a sock of skin filled with concrete and blood with a man size portion of lust electrifying it. There are, of course, different variations of erections. It's a range basically, from a chubby, near-flaccid - the kind that dribbles some reluctant sperm through a cloud of alcohol or sleepiness, up to the raging hard on where you can feel the heart sending extra pints to bolster your cock to bursting - the one that gives you a penis bustling with a rush-hour of fat veins. The one I got in the Zoological Museum in St.Petersburg that fateful day still tops the list for this second kind.
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It was probably something like our third or fourth actual date as such. I'll see you in the club when you get there never constituted a 'date' as such, so this was one of the early ones when we'd actually planned to meet. It was her idea to go there - she told me it was her favourite museum and I was keen to go - I'd never seen a real mammoth before.
I'd been in Russia a few months when we went, so it wasn't too much of a surprise to walk into the musty hall and meet with surly coat attendants. Unfortunately, but not unusually in those days, I needed a shit shortly after arriving and went to the Gents. I still remember it as one of the worst Russian toilets I ever used, even after five years more exploring others. There were three cubicles, no seats, no doors and no paper. The place reeked of ammonia - the collective piss of decades crusted on the urinals and old shit clagged to the porcelain. It stank bad enough to make your eyes sting. There was a door propped against the window though. I picked it up and backed into a cubicle with it, resting it on frame, and did what needed doing. Luckily the rouble was still in flux and I had a handful of old hundreds, worth less than the actual toilet paper I could buy with them, to wipe my arse. I still remember with some fondness the soft, worn feeling of an old one-hundred-rouble note caressing the shit off my crack. Sorry, but I do - frankly speaking aged, fondled banknotes make for good toilet paper.
I must have been desperate to relieve myself because it wasn't until I left the lavatory, eyes blinking out the assault, that I noticed I'd walked under a whale skeleton to get there.
My girlfriend was waiting for me.
'Are you okay?'
'Yeah. I'm fine - sorry. Bloody awful toilets. Anyway, lets go and see the mammoths.'
'We will, but lets build up to it. I'll take you to the insects upstairs first.'
'Right. Show the way.'
We ascended some stairs on the left which took us up past the whale's skull and onto a huge gallery crammed with wooden cabinets. So, I took in a filling breath and off we went.
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I will do my best to get part 2 to you within a week - it is a week which cradles my fortieth birthday in it though.
