On the way to the airport yesterday – was that only yesterday? – we stopped so J. could find some racey reading matter for the plane trip. She'd wanted Harlequin or Silhouette novels, because they're quick, disposable reads (we decided we NEED to write one together), but the store had none, so she found a couple of bodice-rippers instead, and sweetly handed them over so I could read the backs.
One, about Scottish ghosts and faery lovers and such, actually seemed almost worth reading for the story. The other was a fairly typical “twinkling brown eyes” novel, in which the sex was almost (but not quite) non-con, and the euphamisms were as plentiful as the needles on a pine tree.
Of course, in the dual interest of wanted to keep the fun going, and make the men-folk blush, we HAD to find the sex scenes, and once we did, I volunteered to read them aloud.
Such novels are pretty formulaic. We read the strip scene, and the 'sex in the privy' scene, and a dream scene which became a waking scene. Much giggling did ensue. Also, I think the windows of the car got steamy, but maybe that was just the air conditioning.
In any case, I have to thank BatB fandom for teaching me the not-so-useful skill of Reading Smut Aloud, because without it, my only association with the phrase 'moist cleft' would have to do with nose-divets or soft palates.
And Bodice Rippers should totally be sold in the 'comedy' section of bookstores.