Helet Kibel
An unguarded moment captured on celluloid.
Hello, Dear Reader, I write to you from prison.
As a young, erotic girl, I set out to write the great work of English literature. I began with the Complete Works of Shakspere, but, alas, I was preempted — that man was William Shakspere. I went on to write Ulysses, but discovered, at the mid-point, that I was once again defeated — this time that man was called James Augustine Aloysius Joyce. It was toward the end of my Don Quixote that, having discovered a gallant cripple by the name of Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, I realised my forté — the erotic novel. I set sail upon my Moby Dick . . .
Oh, Dear Reader, how I quiver when I think of that erotic pen guiding my hand!
In time, my full erotic cocktail will be at your fingertips. Until then, an aperitif. A votre sante erotique (a la votre)!