Hail to the V

So when I first saw this commercial I stopped everything I was doing and watched with a bemused, and slightly agape smile. Thank god for DVRs because I couldn't believe what I was seeing. A TV ad acknowledging the power of the vagina? I mean really, in the US, where we are so twisted inside-out about what is sexist and what is man-hating--what is virtuous and what is slut-keteering? Did I really see that? 

 Of course it's a big laugh and completely over the top. Or is it? Maybe the delivery is over the top, but the message might be right on. If we think for one moment that a man's sexual desire has nothing to do with his rise or demise, we are giving the human animal too much credit. Surely everything isn't tied to the nether regions; it's possible to motivated by the desire for power,or self-awareness or fame and fortune. But a whole lot of the time that boils down to what kind of woman a guy can get if he achieves those things. 

It got me thinking. Can you imagine for one moment and world without vaginas? Disregarding the obvious procreation problem for a sec, what would the hetero fellows do with their time without a woman to 'appreciate' their good work? I know I'm much more interested in sex when I've been impressed by hubby fixing the garage door without me asking. I'm 100% certain he knows this.

I'm only half joking. I mean even an erotic writer knows that life doesn't revolve entirely around sex. But any woman who's had the delightful experience of her man sniffing up her skirt (quite literally, perhaps) knows what I'm saying is true. There is a hell of a lot of power in between those legs and it isn't anti-progressive to tell it like it is. Hail to V indeed!

The Other Olympic Games

ESPN’s article about the rampant debauchery sure to be taking place this weekend in Olympic Village has given me the biggest flashing green light to put a voice to the fantastical wonderland of sexy fun I’ve always imagined it to be.  I mean, my god, how could it not be? In fact I think it’s wildly hypocritical to ignore the obvious.  Athletes are amazingly in touch with their bodies and what they can do with them.  Hmmm…. let’s see.  What do people tend to do with their bodies?

So I’m as patriotic as the next red blooded American and I appreciate the sentimental image we all cherish of the stoic and dedicated athletic hero.  But what about all that sexy muscle saturated in adrenaline?  That’s going to make for some very healthy libidos.

If only I could find a way into the biggest party noted for the most washboard abs per square foot in the universe.  It might just be worth picking up archery.  (As I crack open this bag of Cheetos)  I mean, there can’t be an age limit for holding a bow and arrow, right?  ;)

It Takes a Village
Copyright Alyssa Turner, 2012

“Is that a fish?” The name on his warm up jacket says Diederich and the look on his face says that he doesn’t understand a word she’s said.  “On your chest.”  She points to it, grazing her finger over the tail as someone bumps her from behind.  He smiles and pulls the German flag on his warm up jacket away a little more.

It is a fish.  She can see it better now, especially since he’s flexed his pectoral a little to make it swim. 

“Ha, neat trick.”  Maybe he knows who she is.  In the US, she’s suddenly a household name for the two gold medals she won on beam and floor exercise.  Just in case, she’d better introduce herself.  She has to yell because the Brazilians are pumping their brand of hip-hop at full tilt  in the crowded hallway. “I’m Cait.”

He nods.  “Cait Mi-zi-ohh-la”

She shrugs.  “Close enough.”

“Lukas … Luk,” he says tapping the fish with his index finger a few times.

“Nice to meet you.”

Someone bumps her again, shoving her into his arms and it occurs to her that she’s the only one blushing.  Unfair advantage.  But this isn’t about fairness is it? This is about the last night in the Olympic Village and the looming promise of swift goodbyes in the fuzzy light of the morning.

Her voice flutters.  “I saw you swim.  Bronze, not bad.”

His turn to shrug.  And then he has his fingers in her hair and creeping up the nape of her neck. “Gold,” he whispers. “You are gold.”

Unrushed, but inevitable none-the-less, he eases his hot tongue into her mouth.  Their kiss makes up for their clumsy words.  Words are over-rated anyway.

But then there is German being spoken around her and Luk takes a last slurp of her bottom lip before turning his head towards his teammate.

It isn’t clear at first, what they are saying.  Then Luk tucks his finger under her chin, his purple lips pursed with a hopeful question on them.  “More?”

She’d never turned from a challenge before.  More reps, more rotations, more, more, more.  Now the question hangs in the air in front of her like a bright ripe cherry.

With growing confidence, Cait reaches over to the zipper pulled high on the other swimmer’s chest.  As she tugs it down, the grin is spreading on his razor clean face.  She’ll keep it simple.  “Yes, please.” 


This is just a start.  Do you ever imagine what goes on after dark in the Olympic Village?  It's definitely something to think about.