My life as an erotic muse has come with the concomitant role of confessor.  The two go naturally together, as a judgement-free and uninhibited mind is often a place where people want to release their pent up secrets.

It began in my youth attending a religious school, where I was the meek girl in the background with few (but close) friends. Yet something about my aura was inescapable, even then.  schoolmates came to me with their private thoughts and stories – even those whom I barely knew.  In my adult life everyone from complete strangers in public, casual acquaintances, to good friends have shared with me things they want sworn to secrecy.  I have always honoured that oath, for the confessional is a holy place where we may be honest with ourselves in the company of another.

Some confessions were shared with me with the express hope that I would bring them to life in the form of a story and my favourite ones were always erotic. I love this glimpse into the human soul, into our consuming, wanton needs. I am always honoured when someone allows me to take their real experiences of passion or their secret, lascivious dreams and bring them to life through writing.