The Sound of Mura

Regina Heart had used the shell of Castle Dunlaggin to build the main centre for her animist religion. The castle was on a remote island, and to get to Regina's castle you had to take your chances with a small ferry, The Sound of Mura, that only ran when the weather was flat calm. The reason for my journey there was a legal matter. I certainly wasn't intending to participate in the programme.
 

Robert heard the boat before he saw it. He thought it must be some small fishing boat with an outboard motor, but then, as the high pitched whine increased, a flat-bottomed launch surged out of the mist. The captain of the vessel, standing at the back holding the tiller, cut the engine and the Sound of Mura drifted up to the jetty. Three women stood up in the boat and lurched to the side to clamber up on the jetty, assisted by the captain. When they were on the jetty, the captain looked at his watch.

“Eleven o’clock then. That’s when the boat leaves. If you’re not here I go without you.”

“Excuse me,” said Robert. “I thought the boat left at ten o’clock. That’s what it says on the notice.”

“That was last winter. We changed it to fit better with the ferry over from the mainland.” The boatman busied himself securing the vessel to the jetty.

“Is there anywhere to shelter – get a cup of coffee maybe?” asked Robert.

“You might as well come with us,” said one of the long haired girls. Robert was used to looking down slightly when he talked to women, but it was not necessary in this case. All three were taller than him. “We’re going to the hotel for our daily fix.” Robert looked puzzled. He’d not expected to encounter drug addicts in such a remote spot.

“Don’t look so worried. They do really good coffee. And more important, there’s a cigarette machine. I’m Georgina, by the way. And this is Joni. And Greta: she’s from Poland. We do assignments for the same agency.”

Ten minutes brisk walking with the long-striding women and Robert was back at the hotel in Blackwaterside. The man behind the bar was obviously expecting the women.

“The usual?”

“Yes please,” said Georgina, “but put in an extra shot all round. Coffee for this gentleman, too.”

The waiter nodded at Robert. “I thought you were a wee bit early for the boat. It’s not a day for sight-seeing.” Robert nodded back. He knew in theory that Scotland was a mountainous country but in three visits he had only ever had the merest glimpse of hillside through rain or mist.

Robert joined the women in the smoking shelter whilst the coffee was prepared. He asked them how long they had been at Dunlaggin Castle.

“Nearly three weeks,” said Joni. “Twenty eight days is the preferred stay – you have to go though one complete lunar cycle. It’s my second visit. It’s great because I lose loads of weight which is so hard in London.”

“I didn’t know Regina ran a weight loss programme,” said Robert.

“No, she doesn’t. It’s just that the food is simple. There’s no alcohol – except once a month at full moon. We drink loads of herbal tea and the pounds just fall off, which is handy in our line of work.” Of course, thought Robert, models.

“So you’re not interested in Regina’s animist philosophy?”

“I am,” said Joni, directing a plume of smoke away from Robert. “I’m not sure about those two. They seem more interested in practice than theory.” They all three giggled. They moved back into the warmth of the hotel to drink their coffee and spent the next twenty minutes establishing that Robert’s social circle and their own did not overlap at any point.

“Is that a watch?” asked Robert. “Only I’m worried about missing the boat.”

“This?” said Georgina, waving an electronic bracelet on her right wrist. “No, it’s not a watch. You have to wear it if you’re following the programme. You explain it, Greta. I get embarrassed.”

Greta shuffled up close to Robert and pulled back her sleeve.

“This is an Orgatron. It measures the female sexual response. It’s an aid to women following the programme because some women aren’t so sure if they’ve had an orgasm or not, and others have them at the drop of a hat. See the red area on the dial? That lights up if I have an orgasm and it sends a signal to Regina’s computer. And the yellow, that’s the zone we have to stay in until the full moon. It starts to flash if you get close to orgasm, it helps you learn control. Regina will explain it much better. It’s a means to an end. The idea is to connect with the spirit through the power of the female orgasm.”

 

Extract from Shameless Exposure by Robert Fanshaw, published soon by Steam eReads.

http://steamereads.com.au/

Orgatron

How does it happen that things suddenly become fashionable? There was a time last year when everyone in London was talking about Regina Heart's animist philosophy and her technique for increasing the power of the female orgasm. Regina used social media to spread the word, tweeting constantly about the magical powers of the Orgatron bracelet.  But word of mouth was the most effective conduit. I have already mentioned Caroline's failed attempt to visit the London Orgatron Training Centre. She had been told about it by her friend Xena. Now Caroline was telling her work friend, Antonia. They had met at a fashionable Argentinian restaurant in Trafalgar Square.

“They have a broad definition of work. Any kind of socialising with the wives or husbands of politicians is considered tax deductible,” said Caroline. “I suppose both at the same time is good value for money. Well, I’ve got a story which is every bit as good as yours. Robert’s been to see Melody Bigger, though she’s called something else.”

      “You’re joking. How did that happen?”

      “She’s making a claim against Monsaint for unfair dismissal and Robert got the case. He had to go up to Scotland to take instructions from her. He said it was pure chance he got the case but I’m worried something’s going on.”

      “Melody’s getting her claws into Robert? That’s a horrible thought.”

      “Yes, and wait till you hear this. She’s found religion. Not exactly found religion, more founded a religion. It’s really weird, based on pagan sexual rites.” Caroline leaned across the table. “It’s about releasing the cosmic power of the female orgasm.”

      “Did you say orgasm?” said Antonia. People on the surrounding tables turned their heads.

      “Yes I did. Robert says they work themselves up into a frenzy at the full moon. He only just got away unscathed.”

      “Fantastic, what’s it called?” Antonia pulled out her smart phone ready for some instant research.

      “I can’t remember what the religion’s called, but she’s called Regina Heart now and her centre is on the Isle of Mura.”

      Antonia tapped in a few letters and seconds later was waving her hand across the Castle Dunlaggin Experience website. She loaded the promo video and the tinny tones of Regina joined them at the table. Caroline tried to speak but Antonia wouldn’t let her. She watched the video all the way through.

      “Well that’s different,” said Antonia. “What’s your animal guide, Caroline? I know what mine is.”

      “I’ve no idea. Robert wanted to show me but I refused to watch the video. It’s obviously phoney. Melody’s up to something again, not to mention trying to screw millions out of Monsaint.”

      “I think you should give it a chance. As soon as I watched I knew I had an animal guide. I’ve known all along, I just haven’t been able to put my finger on it.”

      “You’re always putting your finger on it. Tell me you haven’t got a vibrator in your bag?”

      “I haven’t got a vibrator in my bag,” said Antonia, looking serious. Caroline reached across the table, snatched her shiny black bag, and emptied the contents on the tablecloth. Caroline rummaged through a pile of keys, cards, tickets, and a packet of fruit flavoured condoms. She pulled out a pair of green lace shorties with a bow at the front. She held them up.

      “Very nice. Hoping to get lucky?” said Caroline.

      “I was a girl guide. Be prepared. I never go out without a Swiss army knife, a spare pair of knickers and my travel toothbrush.”

      “I can’t see a Swiss army knife.” Caroline rummaged through the pile and picked out the folding toothbrush, and in doing so nudged a silver bullet-shaped thing which rolled across the tablecloth and landed on the floor. It continued over to the next table where four young Japanese tourists, three women and a man, all with multi-coloured hair, were practising their English. One of the women leant down and picked it up.

      “What this called in English, please?” she asked.       

      "It’s called a Magic Bullet,” said Antonia.

      “For use in restaurant?” Her female companions giggled and the young man fired an imaginary gun.

      “Depends on the company,” said Antonia.

      “Don’t confuse them,” said Caroline. She turned to the tourists. “It’s a small vibrator. A girl’s best friend.”

      “Viblator?”

      “Press the button at the top,” said Antonia. The young woman did not understand.

      Antonia stood up and gestured to the young woman to pass the machine back to her. She sat back down, turned towards their table, pressed the button, hitched up her skirt, and gave a brief demonstration.

      “Ah, girl’s best flend,” said the Japanese woman, nodding and smiling comprehension. Her companions laughed uncontrollably and attracted the attention of a fresh faced, waist-coated waiter. He rushed over to their table.

      “Is there a problem? Do you need any help?”

      The Japanese women giggled helplessly. The waiter caught Antonia red handed, or at least red faced. She tried to look cool and sophisticated. Caroline reached across the table and snatched the shiny vibrator.

      “I’m confiscating that,” said Caroline. “Honestly Antonia, you can’t be trusted in public.”

Caroline was right to be sceptical, but still ended up getting swept along with the wave of enthusiasm for Orgatron training. Of course it ended in tears, but the story had to be told.

Extract from Shameless Exposure, coming soon from SteameReads.