“Here,“ mum said placing the two weathered wicker baskets – probably hand woven by my nan around the Second World War - into my hand. There had to be some sort of sentiment behind them, as she still insisted on using them even though they were coming apart around the rim. “You need to fill at least these two if you want both cherry jam and a cake tomorrow,” she said. “And take that –“ she lowered her voice to a whisper, “...

I’m sitting at the bar, waiting for him. He’s late. I’m drinking our favourite cocktail, sucking on the wedge of orange like I always do. But you’re not here to tell me off for being a tease. I’m nervous. And wet. I’ll probably leave a stain on this plush barstool...He’s just come through the door. Very handsome. Nice choice. Thank you for letting me tick this off my list of fantasies. I promise, it will be a one off. I l...

Train journeys always make me horny. No idea why. Maybe it’s the frequency of the monotonous clacking and rattling of the wheels. Maybe it’s the mellow vibration. I don’t know, but my thoughts always seem to drift into a certain direction. If a cat’s purr have healing power, then I’m sure train rides can have some sort of aphrodisiacal effect. I will have to google that once we’re back to civilization with Wi-Fi. I haven’...

I’m so addicted to you and from time to time I really feel guilty about it. Since I’ve met you I tend to neglect previously important things. Then I take my frustration out on you because, at the end of the day, it is your fault. I used to be in control. I used to be self-disciplined or in your words ‘cold’, but these days you are playing me like a marionette doll and you pull my strings with perverse enjoyment. When we m...

This comedown is worse than after a drug-fuelled night. My mind finds it impossible to adjust to a new, normal day. The bright morning sun breaking through the blinds is unbearable to my eyes and to my soul, that desperately wants to crawl back to that other dark, parallel universe, where time stood still, thoughts and responsibilities seized to exist and the only purpose of my being was to feed the appetite of those rave...

Marriott, Forest Hill, I’ve been here before. Walking past the front desk feels almost like foreplay; I love the guessing eyes of the receptionists on me. My black and nude, lace-trimmed Gucci dress is revealing enough, and my make up is loud but both without being obvious. The guy behind the desk seems to know straight away; women only go up to a room alone, dressed like this for one reason. His amused, faint smile tells...