Your finger depresses the yielding material.

Your finger depresses the yielding material.

Up. Down. Up. Down. Mmmm, sensual pleasure.

You watch the dolphin pop back up, then squish again under the changing pressure of your finger. You lose track of time as you repeat the action.

You can almost feel the texture of its wet, rubbery skin.

Soft. Smoooooth.

It's just a little plastic dolphin. There's no way you're actually getting satisfaction from this.

Let me have this, okay?

Fine. But some soul-searching may be required once you're done.

Stroke it.

One, two, and then you let the dolphin be.

You press the soft plastic, feeling the curves where it meets the metal underneath.

A man in a hardhat and blue vest finishes the last twist of his screwdriver and gets up from where he's knelt, knees-down, on the pavement. His fingers brush the dolphin on the way up -- for luck.

The poke sends a ripple from your fingertip through the rest of your body, resonating with pleasure.

Your finger depresses the squishy shape.

For a second, you could swear you hear the whistle and chirp of a real dolphin.

(Lean in.) "Can you... hear me?"

No reply. But there is an acute ringing in your ears.

The dolphin is inside your head. Pressing its blubber against your skull.

Poke the dolphin again, tentatively.

No noises. Just a pleasant squish. It's okay. Shhhh.

I'm sorry... please be nice. Let's just be friends.

After a few seconds, the ringing stops and leaves you with a new appreciation for the dolphin-less audioscape.

Gah! Witchcraft! (Smack the dolphin.)

Something tense inside you relaxes and unwinds.

The dolphin doesn't poke back. But it might consider it at this point, if it had any sort of brain to consider retribution.

Give it a rest for today. Return when the sensation is fresh and it should once again have its calming effect.