An open book

To me, a book without any markings on its cover is like an open whorehouse window to a peeping tom - irresistible. I just have to take a look inside. Big mistake. Pulling one such book from the bookshelves in a book store last weekend, I inadvertently fumbled it and it dropped to the floor - well, actually, on to the toes of a man standing next to me. The book helpfully opened itself to reveal a graphic picture of two naked women cavorting on a trampoline. In bold, black letters next to it was the word 'Lesbians' (presumably just in case the picture didn't make that point absolutely clear and one might make the mistake of thinking one was studying a book about trampolining techniques). Red-faced, I rushed to pick up the book and ran out of the store. Only when I was half way home did I realise I still had the book in my hot little hands. What did I do with it? What could I do with it? I donated it to a charity shop of course.