Goldie Thorne pursed his lips. Forget about reading; the mere sight of a book made him sleepy. One time, however, his ne'er-do-well friends had gotten their hands on a little booklet, and the story inside made his heart pound and his blood boil with passion. He'd even had a wet dream that very night.
The booklet was what would later be known as erotica. Its plot was explicit, its language bold, and its dialogue direct. The prose was rough and riddled with grammatical errors, yet Goldie Thorne devoured it with relish, lying awake at night. If schools taught this kind of material, Goldie Thorne was confident he could get a perfect score. Even now, he still remembered the female protagonist's name.
