Real Chick Lit: “American Wife” Is The Closest We’ll Get To Presidential Erotica

Curtis Sittenfeld’s Prep is one of my favorite books that is kinda, sorta in the “chick lit” genre. But that’s only one of the reasons why I am so on-the-edge-of-my-damn seat over her upcoming novel American Wife (due out in September) — the book is being so closely guarded by Random House that only a few manuscripts have been released to members of the media. Why all the secrecy? American Wife is said to be a thinly-veiled piece of “speculative fiction” about First Lady Laura Bush and is filled with lesbianism, a car accident (nothing fiction about that!), abortions, and lots and lots of humping. Radar got a hold of one of the manuscripts — describing it as “the story of Alice Blackwell, a quiet librarian whose husband Charlie becomes the bumbling president of the United States” — and ran some of the racier bits on its website…a few of the sexier quotes, after the jump…“Alice” has sex with “Charlie”
“His butt was small in the way that I always forgot a lot of men’s were; how could he possibly be an unscrupulous politician with such a cute little butt? Back in bed, he knelt on the mattress—I was lying flat, and he was above me—and perhaps it sounds crude to say that this is the moment I knew I could love him, when I saw his penis…. All of it was so completely of him, and I felt how there was no part of his body I wouldn’t want to touch, no way I wouldn’t allow him to touch me.”

“Charlie” goes down on “Alice”
“He bent his head to kiss my sternum, my navel and belly…. It was like tremors, and I felt my thighs clenching around his head, and when he came up a few seconds later and kissed my forehead, I said, ‘I hope I didn’t suffocate you,’ and he said, ‘I can’t think of a better way to go.’”

“Alice” gets an abortion
“[...]My grandmother was not permitted in the operating room—when Dr. Wycomb appeared in the white coat. She squeezed my hand, and the warmth of her grip made me realize how cold I was. I wore a blue hospital gown, and when I lay on the operating table, the nurse had me set my feet in metal stirrups. ‘The doctor wants to talk to you before we put you under,’ the nurse said, and ten or twelve minutes had passed.”

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