three hundred words a day. july 7.

Over the last few months, I have talked sex more frequently than I have talked sex the entire length of my forty three year old life. 

I've talked sex with Big J. With my girlfriends.  With my stepmother and surprisingly, with my father.  With my friends at the gym.  With a woman sitting next to me on a plane.  Actually, the last few months, I've talked sex with just about anyone I can find to strike up a conversation with, if I'm completely honest.

in hindsight, it is almost laughable how out of character this is for me.  Sex has always been personal.  Private.  A topic off limits, especially in mixed company.  We did it, we just didn't talk about it.  And while I have had the talk with my littles on more than one occasion, we are all good there, you can rest assured that my girlfriends never expected me to invite them over for a cup of coffee and a slice of sex chatter.

Oh, that was so then.

The impetus for this one eighty is due largely in part to the fact that last month, I finally broke down and read 50 Shades of Grey.  I loaded it onto my kindle while we were traveling and although whenever anyone would come anywhere to me, I would slam the cover shut - pink cheeked, palms sweating - I could not put it down.  And while I found the writing to be mediocre at best, the story line was utterly fascinating to me.

As was the scene in the Red Room of Pain.
While Spem in Alium by Tallis is on the iPod. 
For nine minutes. 
Nine whole minutes!

So fascinating in fact, that I needed to know what others thought.  And I'd never know unless I asked, hm?