CRANFORD, N.J. — The members of a Union County book club awoke this morning with no idea that every moment of last night’s meetup almost led to a depraved orgy of biblical proportions, local sources confirmed.
“Honestly, I had no idea,” claimed book club participant and self-proclaimed bibliophile Stan Jankowitz. “I guess you could argue there were a few questionable moments, like the subtly sensuous manner in which Christine DeGreiza’s tongue grazed the contours of each canapé before letting each morsel fall into her mouth or when everyone was stroking their hardcover copies of ‘The Seven Husbands’ of Evelyn Hugo. Sure, the erotic act caused the men of the group to grow harder and harder as they tried to subdue their natural instinct, and the other women of the group got so wet that it raised the humidity percentage in the room, but it was all standard stuff.”
Book club organizer Alaina Ferraro-Duke denied any sexual overtures and stated that the most recent gathering of bookworms was no different than any other, lurid glances between Chuck Dreyfus and Alexandra Tibbs notwithstanding.
“Sure, a suggestive double entendre here, a ribald pun there, but to say that a group of longtime acquaintances who all share a love of the written word were mere heartbeats away from tearing off their clothes and giving in to their carnal lusts like it was a bathhouse of ancient Rome is ludicrous,” explained Ferraro-Duke. As flop sweat gradually pooled on her forehead, she added, “I mean, who hasn’t looked at a bowl of artichoke dip surrounded by Tostitos Scoops Tortilla Chips and thought it was like looking at your lover’s genitals while they squatted over a hotel mirror?”
According to those operating in underground circles, book clubs are hardly the chaste sanctuaries most people think. These small intimate gatherings are voraciously sought by intrepid sexual adventurers like Alvin “Boogie” Nussbaum, a seasoned hedonist and aficionado of the erotic arts.
“Dig it, baby, these humps want you to think they’re all vanilla ice cream swimming in Dockers khakis, but the real freaks know that hardcover leads to hard-ons and paperback leads to bareback. A festival of flesh is always just waiting in the wings,” said Nussbaum while applying chapstick. “These bawdy bookworms are really doing some advanced ‘edging.’ It’s why every library smells a little bit off when you walk inside. They are palaces for arousal.”
At press time, these page pals were seen discussing next month’s book choice while holding back a playfully sinful enthusiasm and struggling not to use the word “cliterary.”