I first learned about sex from a French woman. Reading Colette as a rosy-cheeked 14-year-old, I was awestruck by the perfumed intrigue of her novels with their voracious heroines who employed intelligence and daring in their pursuit of sexual pleasure. Later these overheated fantasias of emotional and sexual intrigue would cause years of disappointment when I was faced with the fumbling young guys who populated the real landscape of American girldom. But that just further cemented in my mind the clichéd notion that French women were the undisputed authorities on... More >>>