The conceit here is: just as nowadays families arrange house-swaps to facilitate their holidays, in the future we might arrange body-swaps, coordinated via the 'Body Holiday Foundation'. Wealthy Pearce and his wife Alice undertake one such swap, into two bodies considerably younger and more beautiful than theirs. Then they do what people do when they go on holiday. They shag. They shag and shag, in scenes described with a rather squelchy lubriciousness combined of that peculiar mix of detailed intimate descriptions and an odd coyness of tone ('beneath her robe she wore nothing more than a tee shirt that barely covered her modesty' [210]) made popular by the Fifty Shades books. Books concerning the prodigious success of which there is nothing in our sublunary world more puzzling.
It's not all bonking, of course; there's a thriller storyline, some refried SF props and devices (space elevators and so on) and a rather over-earnest satirical thread about the general cultural imperative 'entertain me!' But most of it is porny:
Milla flushed in her first climax and put her hand to her engorged clitoris to caress it and prolong the pleasure. It was a deep warm sensation that arched her back and had her squeezing joy from her breasts. [127]Can a lady's boobs do that? I had no idea.
Franklyn reached down to the length of flaccid meat between his legs and drew it out and up towards her, shaking the tip. "Like most ladies I'm sure you would like to sample the delights of a ride on this sturdy old crossbar." [98]Sexy!
Pinioned on his cock, she felt its heat as it curved deeper into her, creating wells of pleasure even beyond its length. [83]'Wells of Pleasure'. Right.
Blimey. It's not all fun and games, this sci-fi reviewing lark...
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