Gertrude ordered two falafels in pitta bread with salad from the self-service salad bar, along with a couple of 7Ups. Bertram paid the guy serving behind the bar and filled his falafelled pitta with pickled cucumbers, hummus and chillies before sitting down and realising that he might have made a mistake and a great big one to boot. If he planned to do any smooching later that night, pickles and chillies were a good way of putting a stop to it. The chillies alone could turn oral sex into aural sex, as pleading for it would be as near to getting it as Bertram could aspire. As it turned out, he need not have worried as Gertrude had filled her pitta with pickled garlic, chillies and salsa. She smiled knowingly when she saw Bertram glance at her snack, then at his own, and finally, look relieved.
“I erm… see that our tastes have not changed since we were together. I thought that I’d dropped a right royal bloomer then,” said Bertram.
“No, it’s okay with me if you eat chillies, Bertie. Just make sure that you use your toothbrush before you do anything personal for me again.”
Bertram, shocked by her forthrightness, spluttered some pickled cucumber onto the jacket of a Frenchman sitting near him but thought better of drawing attention to it and continued to munch his pitta. After all, it was only a Frenchman and as the jacket was green in colour, the mess was barely noticeable from more than twenty yards away.