birthday gift

After careful deliberation, I have decided that what I want most for my 30th birthday - which is in less than a month, friends! - is to be written into erotica. I don't have to be the star; put me in the periphery, peering through a tinted window or wiping down a barstool. It need not concern LGBT-friendly subject matters such as WNBA basketball or Jenny Shimizu riding one's face like a rocking horse, though certainly these imaginations would not be objected to, but the prospective authors are kindly requested to avoid such unappealing areas of human experience as antique stores and descriptions of fabrics and underwear products ("Queen Latifah shrugged off her underwire bra, which was a ruched plaid-paisley polyester-blend with metal half-moons that cradled and lifted her pendulous melons," etc.). Try also not to toggle between moods/voices through the use of typographical emphasis ("Bananarchist emerged from the driver's seat of a Daihatsu Charade clutching a peppermint tea. A young Susan Sontag leaned against a post, following the clumsy movements with her eyes. Why can't you see? You belong to meeee? You belong to me. Bananarchist handed Susan a 20% off coupon for Bed Bath and Beyond. These never expire, do they? You could just use them forever."). BDSM could be coaxed into readability, but more likely to succeed would be a plot involving a low-grade natural disaster, such as an earthquake, 4.9 on the Richter scale, that traps one character in a freight elevator with another character, with a third humble hunchback abusing herself in the dark whilst cracking one eye at the corresponding surveillance footage. It may assist you in creating a more realistic portrait of your peripheral action heroine to know that she has chestnut-colored nipples, a ginger bush, and earplugs distributed in several shallow bowls on her nightstand. Thanks in advance!