Fifty Shades of Fornication

Yes, I've read Fifty Shades of Grey. Yes... more than once. I've talked before about the appeal of Christian Grey but he's no lone ranger in the world or erotic fiction. He may be the most popular, at the moment, but he's far from the most mesmerizing of the characters I've enjoyed.

So this is the point where I admit that Fifty was not my first, nor my last, date with erotic fiction. I believe it was 2002 that my first Lora Leigh novel fell into my lap and I've enjoyed a number of her and other authors ever since. In my defense, I'm a regular reader of fiction and nonfiction. I don't ONLY read dirty books. But I do love a good dirty book. And it's not just my generation of women that have fallen into this romantic trap - my mother, my grandmother; they both had their "adult" novels, although I'm betting they involved more romance and less restraints than my personal selection...

So what is it that makes these novels so popular among women? Well, romance - duh. I can't even recall the last time a man lead me into a candlelit room with a bed covered in satin sheets and rose petals. And why hasn't a gorgeous man, with a hidden sensitive side, introduced me to my sexual wild child while saving me from a psychopath kidnapper? The majority of these novels are written by women for women and the activities and encounters are mere fantasies. I get it.

The truth is, I don't want plants in my bed because I don't want to clean that up. And I'd rather not be abducted by a psychopath. Period. The novel provides a way to escape the reality and fall into the fiction. Not just the "erotic" but the story as well. The erotic provides a way for women to admit and mentally experience acts and activities they'd never dreamed of much less discussed out loud. For example, some women may enjoy the idea of being strung up naked in a room full of hungry men, or tied to a bed with leather restraints at the mercy of her lover. They may not, however, want to actually live out the fantasy.

Before Fifty, Kegal Balls were just a toy sold at the "sex store" and now housewives use them while they clean the house. (Okay, maybe not, but they should.) Before Fifty a leather crop had no purpose outside the stable, and now many women lay in bed at night and picture their man standing over them in his worn jeans and the brown crop while their hands drift down their bodies...

Fifty brought sex out of the bedroom and into the tea party conversation. Everybody wins. That is until the Mrs. decides Mr. needs to spice it up or sleep on the couch, but at least Mr. has an accessible reference to turn to. (FYI - Skip to Book 2.)