So, who am I? Do I hide in a Huge Thicket? I could tell you—but I will not. It is far more titillating to retain the mystery. These challenges are more enjoyable with the tormented delay of a release most certain to leave one breathless and parched. No, I am not mean, well, not on purpose, at any rate. I could tell you that I am a bored homemaker with 1.69 children, but that would be a lie. I would like to tell you that I am a 6’7” with a full head of thick blond hair that you would kill for, and that I live to make love to gorgeous people, but only the last part is true. I am really only 6’6”. Some people insist on calling me a pervert! Who am I to argue? I could, of course, but I shall refrain. It is droll to argue. It is best to submit ... to my charms. It is said that men are filthy, rotten scoundrels—but perhaps I am a woman. My mind is just as scrumptiously plump with delectable lubricity as any woman ... erm ... man ... erm ... person. What I can tell you is that I have a very ripe imagination. It is so fecund, in fact, that I am harvesting on a daily basis, and my orchards remain abundant with pendulous fertility. Follow me, and let us lay the plethoric seeds of desire. It is my single ambition to fulfil, and comply with your most secret of desires. Whisper them all to me. Go on, send me a message, you know you want to. I do not bite ... oh wait, I might bite if your rump is deliciously rotund and .... E.T.