Jane Doughtery’s picture prompt is thus
George Trinkel Frankenstein was not related to the infamous scientist but he held him in such high regard he took his surname for his own. Almost inevitably that meant he became the subject of both ridicule and vitriol in equal measure. Nothing daunted, however, George continued to try and follow the sketchy notations left by the great doctor and to attempt to bring life back to a cadaver.
His wife, Georgette, of both good birth and serious money loved George for his intelligence, good breeding, lively mind and fascination with all things tantric. Their marriage, while somewhat unconventional, was solid and she both supported and defended him tigerishly.
However, George’s lack of success wore them both down. Finally, she snapped. ‘Why not do something useful,’ she grumbled.
‘Such as?’ He barely looked up from his work bench.
‘You’re the inventor. Make something that might help about the house.’
George stared at his wife. ‘Darling, that may be the wisest thing ever said by a woman.’
After recovering from the deep concussion, George set to with a will. ‘In weeks he had a fully functioning self-regarding mop, a tub and mangle that sought out laundry as might a starving dog a bone and a bath that craved warm water. His fame soared but George wasn’t suited to cheering crowds, talk shows on the back of train carriages and appearing as a guest in musical hall acts. Georgette could see he was failing as he locked himself away in his workshop, refusing both visits and food.
When eventually he appeared he ushered her in. ‘I’m not long for this world, darling so I’ve created this.’ George, with almost his last ounce of energy tugged back the dust sheet to reveal a single bed. ‘Meet Divan the Divine. Divan is an animated love nest. If you slip under the counterpane you will find that Divan will remind you of our happiest hours, slowly making love to you as the sun sinks in the west.’
Georgette fell to her knees. ‘But George, darling, that is beautiful, but it will not be the same if we do not climax as one.’
George motioned towards the bed. ‘See.’ Georgette looked to where her nearly expired husband pointed, at the bed frame. ‘I think you’ll find Divan will show his enjoyment just as must as I would have done, dearest. Now I must go and leave you to the delights of my creation.’