Well, were my hormones ever raging after watching the luscious Lynne Cheney--sort of a Ann Coulter great-aunt in presentation and sexual energy--tore into poor Wolf Blitzer when he dared to stand up on his hind paws and confront her about her incredibly hot book, "Sisters." (
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/...) But I'm here to tell you that as exciting as that was, I had to read more.
Sure, "Sisters" is available online. But few are aware of "The Story of L," written while Cheney was on her first extended European tour with strapping, virile husband Dick. Legend has it she wrote it by moonlight and glimmer of a flaming shot of absinthe...and that it was all true. Look hard enough in the right places, and you can find a copy. I did. And here's just a snippet of Lynne's steamy, seamy, ream of prose:
"D had returned from a lengthy caucus on the Seine. I was bound in a singed flag, in pilgrim shoes and granny glasses. D donned his Ben Franklin costume and approached me slowly, a sexy snarl passing over his moist lips. Without touching my quivering body, he whispered into my left ear, "Do you want to win...well, do you?" I blinked my assent as unexpectedly, he whacked my buttocks with a leather-bound copy of The Bill of Rights, raising a welt that obliterated the bruises already extant from the morning's training.
"Does Master require assistance?" mewled C, ever ready with a tray of documents, writing instruments, wifi appliances. She minced forward in her latex catsuit and Manolo Blahniks. Her eyes narrowed as she drew closer to my goosebumped, postmenopausally aroused figure. "You don't look like you want to win at all, missy," she purred. "Master and I shall have to tour without you."
At this, I collapsed in tears while they snickered at my misery. It was then I felt the silken caress of a...."
Well, in the spirit of decency I have to stop excerpting.