Southern Scotch

Southern Scotch

Thursday, October 20, 2011

"Would you please squeeze my succulent peaches?" she asked.

A woman asked me that the other day in the Produce section of Harris Teeter, Charlotte's world-class grocery store.  This was a grown woman in a business suit of a decent cut...a little on the mousey side but not unattractive...and there she stood with a peach in each hand, each peach the size of a small--well, you know...and she wanted, winky-wink, my opinion about the firmness and the ripeness of the pair at hand.

No, thanks.  Freud said something or other about cuteness and sex.  And whatever he said, I agree.  You go, Sig.  There's room for humor and wit in sex, room for both raunch and romance.  But, as I now work on the sex scene in our novel, I'll pass on succulent peaches, juvenile James Bond-type puns, winky-winks and smirky-smirks...and show two adults at play, as adults.

Here's hoping readers get off on the diff.

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