This is what we get for spending a week hopped on on cold medicine and tryptophan: We missed the Boston Globe's exciting expose on the saucy sex scenes that spring from the minds of policy wonks who try their hairy hands at novel-writing. Since it's a fairly big deal whenever anyone in Washington gets laid, you'd think that they'd have a better eye for detail than this:
Alexa led me to the bed in the middle of the enormous room and pulled me down beside her. I kissed her breasts and ran my hand between her thighs. She gripped my shoulders tightly. . . I was sucked into this moment as quickly and completely as if I had placed my feet in quicksand. Memories from years ago blended with intense physical excitement in a driving, pounding torrent of passion.Oh, please. Quicksand? Torrent of passion? Why not just, "They awoke the next morning"? Granted, the characters at, uhm, work here are State Department (he) and Department of Defense (she), so we're working in total fantasyland here. Anything's possible. We encourage the author to take advantage of that: Maybe they could draw up some post-coital plans for an Iraqi democracy.