THE NEANDERTHAL PORN STAR

THE NEANDERTHAL PORN STAR

“I'm bored to tears,” mumbled Mirumdoo to my ancient and honourable Neanderthal ancestor, Owongoo. “We seem to be doing nothing, just traipsing along, not knowing where we're going and forgetting where we've come from.”

“The trouble with women is they're never satisfied,” grunted Owongoo.

“And there's nobody for us to talk to! I'd like to do a bit of retail therapy, but Uggikins, you remember her, the sweet young thing who wove jewellery out of threads and beads, is way back home where we ought to be.”

“You know why we left,” snorted Owongoo. “Hunting was becoming ever more difficult and I had to go off for days and then be given the rough side of your tongue if I came back with little or nothing. But little or nothing was all I could find, and we sometimes went hungry even though I'd slaved my guts out for days on end on the savannah!”

“Other hunters seemed to do all right,” argued Mirumdoo.

“And other hunters' wives got thinner and thinner because they had very little to eat!” snapped Owngoo, hesitantly. “No – we're better off here, retail therapy or no retail therapy!”

“But I need someone to talk to. There is such a thing as gossip, you know. It's how I got to know things … like why Flugilugs and Doreena split up.”

“Because he got a fancy whore on the side,” said Owongoo. “I saw her, and she wasn't that fancy. I wouldn't give her the time of day, I can tell you!”

“I should hope not!” snapped his wife. “I tidied myself up and made myself smell of flowers and other sweet things, and even threw away my old stinky clothes so that you wouldn't want to go off looking for someone younger and prettier. Now I have to go about naked until you get a bright idea in the couture department – and winter's coming on.”

“Anyway, Doreena was no angel,” muttered Owongoo darkly. “When they get to burying her they'll need a “Y” shaped coffin, take my word for it.”

“What's a coffin?” asked Mirumdoo, innocently.

“Bah!” snapped Owongoo. “Come on, woman, and let's see if we can find you a nice new outfit to wear when the cold weather comes!”

“What? Have you got tired of seeing me naked? Or am I just getting ugly as I grow older?”

“You're not ugly and you're not old,” Owongoo told her, meaning it. After all, neither of them had reached the grand old age of thirty, which was normally looked as the the first portal to dotage in the Neanderthal world.

“Didn't you like Doreena?” asked Mirumdoo as they trudged along. “Most of the men seemed to have a kind word for her, and even I, a woman, could tell that she was pretty.”

“For a porn star,” grunted Owongoo.

“A what?”

“That's what she was: a porn star,” he replied. “They say she was pretty good too, in her younger days. I heard tell that her boudoir was never empty, and she had many cold stone seats in it for the audience to sit on. Those seats soon calmed a man down … they say! And they used to say that if anyone could do it, Doreena could.”

“Do what?” asked Mirumdoo.

“Oh, just about anything,” replied Owongoo, vaguely, needing to turn the conversation away from a woman most men had strayed with when their wives backs were turned. And he numbered among most men,though he'd only ever taken a seat amongst her audience more than once when Mirumdoo had been away gleaning nuts. But he had fond memories of the teasing way she'd performed her act, the smile that was constantly on her lips (women called it a false smile, but men disagreed) and the exciting way she wriggled and writhed and tormented her always male audience.

“I heard she loved cats,” sighed Mirumdoo. “Doreena was an animal lover, and that's no bad thing. My father once said she was so generous to her pussy and everyone loved her for it.”

“With her pussy. With.” growled Owongoo.

But Mirumdoo ignored him. “And he mentioned doggies, too,” she murmured. “And apparently she had a pet python … she was so fond of animals. And a woman who's got such wonderful pets must be nothing but good.”

“If you say so,” he grunted, wishing the conversation would move away from a woman he'd harboured secret dreams about for almost his entire adult life.

“It's a wonder Flugilugs let her go,” his wife mused. “It's a wonder he didn't hold on to her tighter than tight!”

“If you say so,” he murmured.

“It would be good to meet some other people, to have someone to talk to other than you. I'm not saying … I'm not criticising … but sometimes a woman needs another woman to share her thoughts with.”

“I know what you mean,” he replied, thankful that the conversation had moved away from the insatiable Doreena.

Then, out of the blue and like the biggest shock ever, a musical female voice rang out across the lands they were walking on.

“Owongoo!” it called. “It's big man Owongoo, the stars be praised!”

And when he looked, Owongoo saw, standing astride a fallen tree trunk as though she was ruler of creation, the never to be forgotten figure of the aforementioned Doreena, porn star extraordinaire.

“Talk of the devil!” laughed Mirumdoo. “Of all the people on the planet, it's Doreena!”

© Peter Rogerson 01.07.12