I walk into Barnes and Noble and head upstairs to the Romance/Erotic Fiction section. I usually hang out in the coffee shop with a stack of new hard covers on my lap, so this little side trip is a foray into uncharted waters for me. I pick up a pink paperback at random and flip to the middle of it. After scanning a few paragraphs I start to feel my cheeks burn. Holy buckets, this stuff is practically pornographic. I put that one back on the shelf and choose a more dignified looking hard cover. Wowza, this one contains more graphic sex than Penthouse Magazine. I feel a trickle of perspiration run down the back of my neck. It is awfully warm in here. I peruse a few more steamy sex-filled books until my nerves can't take it. I'm nervously glancing over my shoulder every few minutes to make sure no one is watching me. Why is it so frickin' hot in here?
You have to read the entire post by Tracy Horan.