Raised by jackals, but over that now. Mature woman, only average looks, gainfully employed, intellectually oriented, artistic, gregarious, socially/politically liberal, looking for occasional male companionship for a variety of activities. Not seeking marriage. But will consider the occasional unexpected lavish gift, of course.

My Ideal Person: Not looking for Mr. GQ, but Richard Gere would not be rejected. Must be a gentleman, a kisser, romantic sort, someone who understands that those things turn women on, even when not in a romantic relationship. Would like a man who sees other higher possibilities to sexual encounters. A regular f/b would be great. NO MARRIED OR ATTACHED MEN. NO FELONS. NO PHOTOS OF MEN HOLDING FISH. Thank you.

What are your favorite musicians or bands?:
Robert Palmer, Blood Sweat & Tears, Three Dog Night,

Tell one of your favorite sexual fantasies. Don't hold back!:
#1. Okay, so it's a little like a SNL skit. But here goes.
I'd like to be Lilah, the aging dancer at the Admiral
Theater, who trains the young girls on the pole. I still get my turn
to perform, usually on slow nights, like Tuesday. Well,
this one Tuesday, who should come in but Superman, Batman,
and Spiderman! They sit at the front, near the stage, right
next to the bald, fat man and the skinny 22-year-old. After
a couple of drinks, you wouldn't recognize them - hooting,
hollering, saying the filthiest words that ever came out
of a sailor's mouth. Yep, the Man of Steel, talkin'
trash. Anyway, they ask me to go into the back room for a lap dance
with the three of them! Superman is the first to get aroused.
I have to remind him to look, don't touch. Pretty soon,
Batman is licking his lips and synchronizing his own hips to mine.
Spiderman, he's weird. Sitting on his heels on his
part of the bench, like a tiger ready to pounce. But really into
all of this. What a trip. Three superheroes and little ole
me! Well, sure enough, when I slide my behind on each of them,
they all cream their tights. A really amazing evening.
A super evening, in fact. Wonder if I'll get to see the
Bat Cave any time soon? #2. I can tell you it involves a train,
a hot stranger, some crisp white tablecloths and scratchy
woolen blankets, a lot of lube, a thunderstorm, Orson Welles
and Twiggy. (Did I mention a LOT of lube?) There's also
a torn map of Jalisco, Mexico, that figures prominently, as does
a case of Ball Park franks, dated June 3, 1998. At some point,
a flock of pigeons enters through a window inadvertently
left open, someone accidentally sets fire to the sofa,
and, well, you can guess the rest, I'm sure. Please,
all you armchair psychologists, don't try to tell
me what a burning sofa symbolically represents. I know,
I know! It's the map that has me confused.

What types of sexual activities turn you on?:
Scrabble, The Jumble

Ever fantasized about having sex with a celebrity? Who? What turns you on about them?:
Vincent D'Onofrio. He calls me from wherever he is
and asks if I can be ready to see him in an hour. He needs his,
um, ego stroked. A lot. Of course, I always say yes. And he
brings the pizza and beer. And sometimes a sheep. No, I take
that back. He ALWAYS brings that damn sheep.

Have you ever had cybersex?:
I've done it so many times that I've forgotten how to type with two hands.

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