Drop Dead Gorgeous. Kimberly Raye

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       1

      IT WAS THE BEST SEX she’d had in months.

      The only sex.

      Which wouldn’t have been such a bad thing except that the elusive O came courtesy of a red fluorescent vibrator called the Big Tamale rather than some hot, buff cowboy with a slow hand and an intoxicating smile.

      Margaret Evelyn Sweeney, aka Meg, hit the three different Off buttons—vibrate, swivel and aye carumba—and stashed Big in its matching red case. She drew a deep breath, swung her legs over the side of her bed and got to her feet.

      Five minutes later, she stood in her kitchen and leaned over a hot-pink three-ring binder—her own personal Pleasure Manual—to document tonight’s results. She flipped to page fiftyeight, which included a quick summation of last Tuesday’s class entitled Masturbation Mania and a worksheet for homework. She scribbled in the date and tackled the questions.

      Intense sensation? Check.

      Spontaneous groaning (the good kind)? Check.

      Uncontrollable moaning? Check.

      A full-blown scream? Check.

       Overall level of satisfaction?

      She eyed the scale that ranged from one to ten, zip to zowee, and finally circled seven before СКАЧАТЬ