I was– and still am– a very bad girl.

I hail from the same small Iowan town that Captain Kirk will be born in, allegedly, sometime in the relatively near future. My mother was, by her own admission, “a little bit of a whore,” so I come by it naturally. As such, I never knew my father, which probably explains a lot.

Growing up, I was the kind of girl who was setting up a whiskey distillery in my grandfather’s back-forty (unbeknownst to my aforementioned slutty mother and stepfather #3) and charging boys a dollar a kiss on the playground behind the equipment shed. What I’m saying is that all in all, I’ve always been kind of a degenerate, so if I ever try to talk about the days of my innocence, don’t believe me, they probably didn’t happen.

As a teen, I was the kind of girl who was making eyes at the math teacher and writing extensive fanfiction for Tolkien’s The Hobbit. This was before being a big fuckin’ nerd was a cool thing, so in reality, I got jumped a lot. I had big, nerdy glasses and a fashion sense that my mother described as “eclectic” (my guidance councilor described as “inappropriate for a learning environment”). Looking back, I was probably something of a hot nerd, but it’s not like I ever gave anyone the chance to act on it. I was 100% in it for the sex with the math teacher. High school boys, their Axe body spray, and their awkward facial hair were entirely off my radar.

And as an adult– or, really, as an eighteen-year-old who thought she was an adult because Big Government said she could vote now– I promptly got married to the first boy who gave half a glance at my tits and offered me a ring. Bad decision, O’Bannon. But I didn’t know that at the time.

Once the divorce papers were finalized, I was a free woman for what seemed like the first time in my life.

So naturally, I maxed out my credit cards, moved to Australia and started writing porn.

Sometimes, that’s just how things go.

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