The Bone in the Stone (NOT!)

Hi need help! I'm writing a novella for a Liquid Silver Books Halloween Anthology, "A Witch in Time." I'm having a heck of a time with getting the title right! The primary objects of the story are a whalebone dildo (I'm blushing even typing this word) and a small Odin Stone. The heroine is Salem Grier, owner of an occult bookstore/antique sex toys shop. You know...leather sheathes and um...whalebone dildos...

Here's an excerpt (first draft stuff...copyright, 2006 Darragha Foster). Have any title ideas for me? The best title gets used, gets credit and gets her choice of LSB book for download!

Thanks for letting me pick your brains...with an awfully large toothpick...

Salem Grier/The Bone in the Stone

Who says good sex can’t set you free?

Salem placed a hand over her pounding heart. She couldn’t catch a full breath in the wake of her last powerful orgasm.

She realized how sweaty she was, and hoped her sticky body bore a sensual perspiration glow as opposed to locker room stink. Not that Kane any better off than she. He’d gone south of her belly button and stayed there for quite awhile. A walkabout between her legs, so to speak. He seemed to have collapsed after getting her off for the third time.

She reached her other hand out to touch his soft, wavy blonde hair as it cascaded over her naked thighs. His breathing told her that he, too, was exhausted.

Pinioned under his weight and tangled in a confused mess of jeans and undergarments, she figured until she could catch her breath, she’d just stay where she was. On the floor of her shop. With the front door unlocked and within view of the windows. If someone walked in or glanced in the window in passing, so be it. The only folks who came into her shop were open-minded sorts, any way. Puritans certainly didn’t whip out the plastic at a place like hers.

Salem felt fairly certain she couldn’t walk, much less rise from the floor at this point, any way. She managed an exhausted, ‘wow,’ which was met by a single-word reply from her new friend.

“More,” he uttered. He slid his hands in-between her legs.

“Oh, no. No more. I can’t,” she begged. “Kane, no more.”

Kane chuckled, the sound rising low and teasing from his throat. He slid two fingers into Salem’s swollen, wet vagina. “I need you,” he whispered.

“Can we, at least, get off the floor?” Salem asked, squirming as Kane inserted a third thick finger.

“The floor is nice,” he replied. “You on the floor is nicer.”

Salem wasn’t sure she could muster the energy to command Kane to stop diddling her clit long enough for her lock the shop and move their party somewhere else.

How many orgasms could she have before noon? Salem knew she was about to head face-first into another hurricane as Kane reached into the open display case and withdrew the ancient whalebone dildo.

“Exquisite,” he whispered.

“Nordic craftsmanship,” Salem replied. “Very rare. And very old.”

“I’m not talking about the tool. You are the true treasure of this shop.”

***Kane is the hero. He has a dark half/evil twin who wants Kane dead. Kane and his brother (name not developed) are spirtious Berserkers who died in Iceland at "Berserkurhraun" -- the Bersker's Lave Field -- a thousand years ago. The oldest known dildo is made of whale bone and was found in Iceland. Gotta love that, huh! There's a great legend from the Berserkurhraun area in Iceland, which I'm using...***

Got title ideas?