Recent trends indicate that when it comes to powerful passion, devilish delight and loin-driven lust, nothing satisfies that hormonal longing more a personal relationship with a ticket clerk.

And why not? After all, what could be sexier than a ticket clerk’s experienced fingers tickling the keyboard and nimbly teasing the network into printing out tickets for Phish or Bon Jovi? Is there anything more exciting than that sense of anticipation when the clerk places your tickets for Avril Lavigne into an envelope? Could there be anything more satisfying than that when the tickets for Dixie Chicks are passed over the counter and into your waiting hands?

Of course not.

Maybe that’s why your local ticket outlet has replaced the health clubs of the 1990s that inherited the mantles of the singles bars of the 1980s to become the discos of the new millennium. Day or night, a trip to your neighborhood ticket center reveals writhing, lustful bodies reaching out to touch the clerk as tickets for Norah Jones, Neil Young and Steve Winwood spew out of the machine and quench the eternal fires of desire. Make no mistake about it. Ticket clerks are hot.

Yet, not everyone knows the ultimate joy that passes between a ticket clerk and concert fans. In fact, some have forsaken getting up close and personal with the clerk at their corner outlet, choosing instead to rely on modern technology and the privacy of their own locked bedrooms to order tickets online for their favs, such as Vanilla Ice or Tracy Chapman. They’ll never know that sultry voice of a ticket clerk asking them if they want “reserved” or “general admission” for Bruce Springsteen. They’ll never experience the thrill of a clerk personally showing them the seating chart for Cher or Ringo Starr & His All Starr Band. And they’ll never know what it’s like to scream out like a banshee when a clerk reaches behind the counter and whips out tickets for Stanley Clarke, RX Bandits and Red Hot Chili Peppers. Or as Paul McCartney wrote; “Look at all the lonely people.”

But don’t take our word for it. And don’t take the word of those magazines at the supermarket checkout counter that scream headlines such as “Know Your Ticket Clerk’s Erogenous Zones!” or “67 Ways To Make Your Ticket Clerk Scream!” Instead, let’s hear what a ticket clerk has to say about being the world’s number one sex symbol:

“My lips part oh-so slightly as I look into their eyes and ask if they want it on the floor or in the stands for Pearl Jam. I murmur something about left or right of the stage for Dave Matthews Band and Santana, and if they appear in the mood, I might even suggest behind-the-stage seating for Peter Gabriel. That’s the secret of the ticket clerk. Knowing what the customer wants, and how to deliver it.”

That’s it? That’s the ticket clerk’s secret?

“That and knowing that love means never having to say you’re sorry for service charges and convenience fees.”