I recently began working on an erotic novel based on the XXX-ploits of Gambit a.k.a. Remy LaBeau a.k.a. the X-Men's resident Cajun casanova. Unfortunately, certain narrative deadfalls endemic to superhero storytelling prevented me from getting past the opening chapters of my book, Gumbosexuelle: The Case of The Quivering Quarterstaff.
First off, a little explanation is in order. I first mentioned Gumbosexuelle earlier this week. Since penning that one-sentence treatment, the notion of an erogenous tome (that's an industry term) starring Gambit has percolated around my skull like Emmanuelle Plays Arkanoid (my other billion-dollar idea).