I was getting a manicure the first time I learned that not all wives want to, ahem, go for a roll in the hay with their husbands. I was 16 and had picked out orange nail polish (oh, sixteen). I had a book with me but it wasn't long before I found another source of entertainment. In-between buffings and polishings, the two women next to me talked about how much their husbands wanted IT and how little they wanted to give IT.
For a girl that had not even been asked out on a date this was a whole new world. I had a suspicion that their experience was more realistic than the articles I sneaky read in Cosmo while getting my hair done at the salon. (I am supposed to put my hand WHERE? while simultaneously doing WHAT?) So I kept my eyes on my book, let the words blur into lines and listened closely.
