Ooh, that title sounds ominous. But you know, it's really not.
I have long been the kind of girl that does as she pleases, then hates herself afterwards. In recent years, mindgul of my own terrible limitations, I have walked the tightrope between should and would, tipping ever so slightly into the side of temptation then managing to veer back the other way. But faced with something delicious, I waver, I wobble. I try to balance my yearning - sexual desire, cravings - against my desire for sensibility, my desire to be loved by all and sundry, and I come up with nothing but turmoil and confusion.
My, how tempting it is to let someone coax me into sexy conversations, to let them titillate me with clever words that whip around my spine and snake their way into my cerebral cortex. Forget sexy thighs, rippling muscles and sparkly eyes, if you've got my mind, if you make me laugh, you have me switched on and quivering in anticipation. The kind of sex that follows these experiences is invariably fun, friendly and playful, the golden labrador of fucking, exciting and exhiliharating. And if you're sexy too, well oh la la.
Problem is, when someone belongs to someone else, it ain't just a spanner in the works. I have vowed to leave these ways behind. "How would you feel" I ask myself, "If that was you?"
Isn't it obvious?
If some femme fatale came and spun her tales around my man, I would want to claw out her eyes. If she was sexy, it would be like a knife to the heart. If she was tall and thin, a blow to the solar plexus. Cap it off with bright, blinking brown eyes, glossy hair and gigantic tits and I would be writhing on the floor. Plain, boring and dull? I would die.
So why, then, do I flirt? I have often wondered if it was something about me that encourages that sort of thing. That vein of sexuality runs hot through me, and I'm half turned on all the time. I am teased and tormented by the idea of sex - especially now - and when someone I desire turns their eyes on me, it's almost impossible to resist.
This isn't innocent, by any means, and if it goes too far I will again find myself on the otherside of accuations, distrust and distaste. I can go and kiss any man I want, so why is it the ones with flashy eyes and clever words that grab me so hard.
"...you are young, gorgeous, full of promise and sizzle with a beguiling eroticism," he says.
He may as be wearing the words "I WANT TO FUCK YOU" on his t-shirt. That turns me on more than it should.