Emily Pierce always gave her husband a special reminder of their wedding day. It got to the point – after the first two or three – where Edward dreaded their anniversary. It had been the name she'd taken that had given her the idea and a brief internet search had put it into her head that it would spice up their sex life.
Edward always bought her the same thing – a bunch of roses, a box of her favourite Belgian Truffles and a soppy card. Her gift – on the nearest Saturday to the date – was always another piercing on the underside of his penis, each an inch from the last.
He wouldn't have minded so much, but even he could see the marriage wouldn't last past seven years.