As I finish the book, I am confused by what I just read. I have to double check the cover a few times to make absolutely sure that I picked up the right book? Could this really be the right book? The draft that I read was a self-help book about how to organize your life and find inner peace through organization. It didn't have any mention of any dragons. And it certainly didn't have any male dragon on male dragon erotica.

I start thinking about what this could mean. Is this her way of saying that she is unsatisfied? Does she want me to dress like a dragon? If she does would I be willing to do it? I don't know, I guess I could.... Sounds like a hell of a costume. Where do I even go for such a thing.

Maybe I am overthinking it. Maybe she doesn't want me to dress up at all. Maybe it is something else. I remember how vividly she described the dragons. How they had length and girth and veins. The monstrosity and power of the size. You know what, never mind. I'm gonna go with that she wants me to dress up as a dragon. Final answer. That is definitely it and nobody is going to change my mind. And if anyone even whispers "male fragility" I swear I will go slap city on you.

Sighing, I realize that the truth is I am just going to have to talk to her. Why would she hide this from me? Why is this a completely different book from what she said she was writing? And why did the one dragon breathe fire up the other dragon's bunghole?

I hear the garage and know that she has arrived.

I approached her with a smile and held the book up signaling that I bought it.

She smiles back but questions why I bought it when I've already read it at home.

I tell her the final draft was significantly different from the version I read.

She tells me the editor probably made a few final edits.

I tell her that she should try opening it up if she hasn't already.

And she does. At first there was confusion. Then shock. Then anger.

She is on the phone with her editor, her publicist, her agent. She is yelling about the smut that ended up in her book. There is confusion all around. Nobody knows how it happened. And the main thing that I think is that I guess I painted my balls green for nothing.