My inner goddes has her sequins on and is warming up to dance the rumba.

Women basically want the same thing - a good passionate story, a great fantasy - and for our partners to do the laundry and the washing up.

Any relationship that you have is about negotiation - anything - whether there is a written contract or not.

I came up with a story and I wrote it.

Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Perhaps I've spent too long in the company of my literary romantic heroes, and consequently my ideals and expectations are far too high.

The candle flame is too hot. It flickers and dances in the over-warm breeze, a breeze that brings no respite from the heat. Soft gossamer wings flutter to and fro in the dark, sprinkling dusty scaled in the circle of light. I'm struggling to resist, but I'm drawn. And then it's to bright, and I am flying too close to the sun, dazzled by the light, fried and melting from the heat, weary in my endeavers to stay airborn. I am so warm. The heat... It's stiffling, overpowering. It wakes me.

I don't think [Fifty Shades of Grey is] a model for anything. Except maybe in bed.