It’s hot until it crosses the line, but it seems no one can agree on where that line is.
Five years ago, a writer friend of mine — we’ll call her Sabrina — got in a fight with her boyfriend after going out with a few friends. She’d partied, she’d danced, she’d accepted free drinks from strangers by giving them the impression she might go home with them. “I’m talking, like, sexy danci... More »