I have a group of friends who read pretty much nothing but erotic romance. They eat it up like it’s candy. I was confronted by several the other day, and they wanted to ask me a question.
What’s up with ménage?
It’s not that my friends don’t like it. They love ménage and read everything they can get their hands on, but they tried to explain that it’s causing a little trouble. One told me it was like that episode of Friends where Joey and Chandler suddenly find themselves with free porn on their cable. They can’t look away because they know it’s going off at some point. Shouldn’t they enjoy every minute? Unfortunately, there is only so much the human mind can take before the odd seems normal. I agree. Now when I watch a movie that has a love triangle, I just wonder why they don’t decide who’s going to use the back door? I mean isn’t that really the only problem here? Edward vs. Jacob – no big deal. Just share Bella, boys. Damon and Stefan on Vampire Diaries? Guys, she doesn’t have to choose. There’s enough of Elena to go around.
My friends are having the same trouble, though it’s bled over into real life. One related the following incident:
“So I’m sitting in a diner in Stephenville, Texas with my mother-in-law. We’re having a perfectly fine lunch when the hottest cowboy I’ve ever seen walks through the doors. He’s six-foot three inches of pure sex on a stick from the Stetson on his head to his cowboy boots. He’s polite but commanding, with clear blue eyes and jaw line carved from granite. My jaw drops open, but what do I think? Do I enjoy the sight? No, I start looking around for his twin brother or equally hot and kinky best friend. Thanks, Sophie, you’ve ruined guy watching for me.”
Two Guys = Double the Pleasure?
I mumble an apology and don’t mention that the same thing has occurred to me. Now when I see a hot guy at the gym (yes, uber-hot werewolf guy, I’m talking about you) I tend to double him. Werewolf guy at the gym has no idea that I used him as a model for Three to Ride, only I gave him an identical twin brother who likes to share. (At least I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know. I haven’t gotten a restraining order filed on me, yet.) I’ve been reading talks with other authors who also write ménage in an attempt to get inside their brains. When asked if they themselves would like to be in a ménage, they universally said ‘hell, yeah.’ Me, I’m not so sure. Oh, I’m certain the sex would be hot, but let’s face facts. Double the sex means double the underwear I have to clean. It means double the dishes to wash. It means double the work stories I have to listen to. (I pray that second part is true and they both have jobs.) When I really look at it outside the romance fantasy of erotica, I have to wonder what kind of ménage would really work for me.
Real Ménage means never having to do the dishes …
And then, I see it. In the end it’s really simple. It’s me, my BFF and some totally hot twenty-year-old. The twenty-year-old is kind of the random factor in all of this. He just has to be ridiculously hot and have a nice package, so he can take care of our wicked crazy forty-year old sex drives. (You know what I’m talking about, ladies. We’re like teen-aged boys.) He isn’t there for conversation. That’s what the BFF is for. He has his own room in the house. All he needs is a big screen TV, an X-Box and a can of Lysol. (Two sprays a day keeps the boy smell away.) We take him out of his room when the need arises. Other than that, we sit in our perfectly clean, immaculately decorated living room, sip Cosmos and wait for True Blood to come back on. It’s a perfectly realistic fantasy.
Except I just opened the door to my boy toy’s room and he has a twin.
Sophie Oak writes for Siren Publishing. Her latest - Lost in Bliss - is available August 12th.