Sex in fiction, like sex on a beach, ought to be a no-brainer. On the one hand, there's, well, sex, a source of mystifying pleasance and profundity that for most mass seldom elicits any articulation additional than a content grunt, groan, or gasp. On the opposite hand, there's the novel, an artistic enterprisingness devoted to devising prolix sensation of mute experience.
Top 5 women's sexual fantasies in 2013 - Telegraph
While language of women and sex is ne'er far from the headlines, what do we in truth go through about feminine desire? What -as the renowned question goes - does a cleaning lady want? A new book, formed as an update to Nancy Friday's germinal My concealed Garden, seeks to penetrate that very question.
S bland, ordinary multinational offices go, Sara’s could someone been worse. She had drawn-out ago erudite to tune out the dim hum of printers, copiers, coffee percolators, reverberating phones and stifled chatter. It had turn white noise, almost therapeutic once she allowed herself the moment to concentrate on it. The agency had become her life, and her living had become the office.