Sexpieces
Angela Huth
Treat Yourself to Sex: A Guide to Good Loving Paul Brown and Carolyn Faulder (Dent £4.95) It is a happy reflection that in the practice of sex there is no ultimate judge of expertise. We are all amateurs — some more amateur than others, fumbling as best we can through the years of loving to discover that one person's thrill is another person's yawn, and applying our adaptability. And as amateurs it is, of course, a risky business to give advice. Take the case of the smallish man married to an enormous BBC telephonist. After six months, despite a Cornish caravan honeymoon, consummation had not taken place. Eventually the wretched husband confided in a randy friend who produced an instant solution. 'All you need do,' he said, 'is buy a sheepskin rug and a small bottle of olive oil. Run the hot water, pour in the oil, bath together, retire to the rug in front of the gas fire — and hey presto.' Next morning, bandaged head, arm in a sling, the husband encountered his friend. 'I did what you advised,' he said. 'All went well till we let out the water and stood up Nonetheless, advice on matters sexual is big business. Those who have followed Kinsey's lead by publishing their intense researches have made a fortune. Little wonder so many satisfied men and orgasmless women have been inspired to add to the tomes. But there is one rule about which they all seem to be in silent agreement: while scores of surnameless case histories are fine illustration of theory, any reference to self is not permissible. No advice based on personal experience. So it is hard to resist an unfair picture of authors of sex guides — disparate figures beyond their prime, perhaps, armed with graph paper to prove yet more strange behaviour on the part of the parts. Do they tiptoe among the volunteer bodies in their laboratories to watch them fornicate in the name of research? Or do they screw an eye to a secret window? — I like to think the authority of Messrs Kinsey, Masters and Johnson, Hite el a/ comes from the experienced stripping off of their own starched coats ('How to Turn On Your Partner Undressing') and the abandoning of themselves to a double bed. But it is hard to imagine.
Treat Yourself to Sex: A Guide to Good Loving is a new handbook by Paul Brown and Carolyn Faulder. I once met Miss Faul der looking very nice in navy blue. Mr Brown I do not know. How, I can't help wondering, did they set about co-authoring this book? Did they meet in a neutral office every day, slip on those white coats and divide the thing up like collaborators on a musical? 'Why don't you have a go at "Let Me Learn to Please You" this morning, Paul, and I'll try "He Never Comes": But such preoccupations only show my irreverent attitude to such guides: seriously, Brown and Faulder have produced a book of much good, if obvious, sense. Neither trite nor dull, bursting with helpful intention, but with no claims of magic formula. They provide
not only remedial recipes for all those bugged by standard problems of love-making, but also for the wishful thinkers who quite like the whole business, but can't help thinking it could be even better.
The tone the authors adopt is jolly, brusque as a swimming coach. On the travels of the sperm, for instance: 'This process can be likened to imagining the whole population of London standing at one end of Lake Windermere ready, on word of command, to plunge in and swim to the other end, the first one reaching there being like the sperm which meets the egg.' But the thing their book will best be remembered for is the Sexpieces.
Sexpieces are exercises: ideas for putting into practice the subject of the chapter. Nothing frivolous, mind, like the Sensuous Woman's suggestions about whipped cream: no, saner stuff, starting with getting to know your body alone in the bath. Brown and Faulder are great advocates of masturbation, and the creation of erotic atmosphere by music and lighting. 'Sex is fun and pleasure', they say in Chapter 2, though some of the Sexpieces don't sound all that much fun to me. Take an early one, invented to dispel verbal inhibitions. It's proposed the lovers spend an evening making lists 'alone and together'. List One: 'Expert's Words' for parts of the body. List Two: 'Our Words'. List Three: 'absolutely any' more words you can think of. And
don't forget to . decide on a small prize for the one who gets the most, like a kiss or making some coffee'. I can think of more aphrodisiac ways to spend an evening myself, but would not presume to advise.
There are twenty-five Sexpieces. Working through them all could take many patient months and may feel a bit like Snakes and Ladders: if you get stuck on one you're advised to go back several moves. This assumes the awkward lovers are either married or together for some time: the disillusioned but temporary new lover who suggests launching into B and F's marathon training might well get told in words from List Three just what he can do with his proposal.
So who is this book for? The Millions of Unhappy in Bed, I suppose, as exposed by Hite and others. Funny, you can never tell who they are just from their faces in the rush hour. However, to give someone this book as a present might be considered more officious than friendly. Rather, if secretly in search of yet more fun and pleasure, wait for a quiet moment in a dusky bookshop, and buy it for yourself.
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