I had just enjoyed a cocktail at Blue Smoke which I thought would be the perfect foreplay for popping my cherry at the Museum of Sex. But I hadn’t even made my way through the museum boutique before my heart started racing and my palms started to sweat. There I was, all hot and bothered, amongst a sea of couples engaged in PDA.
If the tangy-sweet aroma of smack-yo-mama barbecue were a pheromone, Blue Smoke and I would undoubtedly share an instant chemical attraction that would lead to a passionate love affair. It wasn’t bad looking either for a casual, down-home, suck your fingers, wet nap required dining.
