"You don't really need these, do you, June?" he softly inquired. "I'm blind as a bat without them," she said. "You're also very pretty without them. How come you don't wear lipstick or eye shadow?" "I only put on cosmetics on state occasions," she said. "I hope you don't mind these personal questions, but I'm interested in you as a woman, June." "I should hope so. May I have my glasses, please?" It was then he kissed her. Her breath was sweet and she squirmed a little in his firm grasp, but when his tongue found hers, she stopped squirming and nestled in his arms, her mouth opening wider to accommodate his tongue. The tip of his tongue touched the tip of her tongue, then slid upwards, their warm saliva melting in each other's mouths. She tore her mouth away from his. "Barney, I don't think we'd better-oh, god!" His hand had found her... and this time she kissed him. Hard. Very hard, her mouth wide open, her tongue squirming around in his mouth wetly. It's the glorydays of the '80s NYC, where working hard equals playing hard, money is king, and sexual promiscuity is standard. So when Bradley moves from Vermont to the big apple, he's hoping he hasn't bitten off more than he can chew. It's not long, however, before every young artist, secretary, and even boss is bending to his masculine will, and insatiable appetite for all things libidinous. Fortunately his advertising agency is made up of individuals just as debauched as he, and as he navigates the shark infested waters of big city advertising he does so knowing that the sex-parties and the swinging, and the women, and maybe even the men, are willing to offer up the rewards he so deserves. Graphically written in an intoxicating and licentious prose, featuring LGBT swapping, full-office orgies, and the odd after-hours overtime seductions, Selling Sex does exactly what is says on the cover.