Flames danced against the walls. Long shadows of Britain’s proud past teasing Lieutenant Esteban Tickles. Tickles had been marooned years ago on the tropical island of Tahiti. There, he had married and lived a prosperous life. That is, until he was un-marooned and brought to the fertile soils of the English countryside. Supposed to be enjoying a long, leisurely retirement, Esteban Tickles felt ill at rest. His loins burned of sanguine passion every time he thought of his wife back on Tahiti, The Skin Floutist. He never knew why they named her that…

As he sat in his armchair by the fire, Lt. Tickles’ mind raced back in time. His first step on Tahiti, and his first plunge into Skin Flourist’s womb of sexiness. A tear welled in his eye. His girth, his proud girth felt no importance when compared to his lust for a long lost love. His lips, which some would call ‘luscious’, quivered at the very thought of once more fornicating upon his wife.

Suddenly, there was knock! He crept towards the door and slowly…