For a number of years an erotic paperweight sat on Clark’s desk. Maybe not erotic. I guess that depends on how you look at it. And what you like. Maybe it’s just glass, almost round, about the size of a fist, filled with swirls of skin-toned ... swirls. But most people would say these skin-toned swirls are sexual. A phallic column being engulfed by a mouth or bottom. Or both. The thing weighs about a pound, maybe a pound and a half—heavy enough so that Danielle, Clark’s wife, had some worries about letting their daughter, Annie, play with it back when she was about a year old and taking her first steps. One evening just before Annie’s bedtime, they discussed it.

“It’s not as if she could swallow it,” Clark told Daniella.

“But what if she drops it on her toe? It’s heavy. It’s slippery.”

“It’s not really slippery,” Clark said.

“Well, it looks slippery.” Danielle and Clark laughed, and they watched Annie play.

Annie rolled the paperweight across rug, she cupped it in her hands, she drooled on it.

“It’s slippery now,” Danielle said.

Annie looked up at her parents. “Da?” she said.

The erotic paperweight was an anniversary gift of sorts. An unexpected anniversary gift. It happened this way: Daniella and Clark spent a Saturday afternoon hunting the antique shops for a desk, a joint present for their fifth. Now that they had a house.

They wanted something old and substantial, but not a roll-top. Had to be wood. They went to four or five shops, saw a few desks that were promising, but nothing quite right. Late in the afternoon, about to give up, they tried one more shop. They looked around for a bit but didn’t really see anything.

“Can I help you folks?” the proprietor asked.

“We’re looking for a desk,” Clark explained. “A big desk, but nothing fancy.”

“Has to be wood,” Daniella said.

The proprietor shook his head.

Danielle looked sad.

“Wait,” the proprietor said. “There might be something in the back. The stuff we haven’t cleaned up yet.” He led Clark and Danielle into a large, dimly lit room at the rear of the store. “Some of this stuff had been in here for years,” the shop owner told them. “It’s a space problem.” Clark was going to say something about a ‘first in last out’ problem, but he let it go.

“You folks look around, if you see anything, holler.”

“You got any flashlights?” Clark asked.

The shopkeeper chuckled.

Mostly this back room was filled with ugly tables and rickety chairs. A jungle of chairs stacked atop each other. A jungle of dusty chairs.

“What a mess,” Clark said.

Daniella worked her way through the chairs. “I just have a feeling,” she said.

“This cabinet is pretty nice,” Clark said. “Couldn’t we...?” But Danielle just kept digging her way deeper into the shop. Soon she was out of sight.

“Honey,” Clark called. “Honey, you all right?”

“I think I found something,” Danielle said. “Come here and look.”

“Come where and look?”

“Forget it. Just go get the shopkeeper. I’ve found it.”

“Way back there? It’ll take weeks to get it out.”

“Just go get him, okay?”

Clark got him. It took a few minutes for Clark and the man to work their way through the furniture to Danielle. “Mm,” the man said. “I’d forgotten about that. Sort of a Lincoln desk. Like the old school teachers used to have.”

“How much?” Daniella asked.

“As is?” the man said. “How about two-fifty?”

“Deal,” Danielle said.

“I don’t think there’s a key for the lock,” the man said. “Fact is, there’s no lock. And there’s no chair. And some of the drawers may be a bit stuck.”

“That’s okay,” Danielle said.

“Okay then,” the man said. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a desk.”