I’m well-read, well-educated, and very, very badly behaved. A whip-smart pervert with my tongue always firmly in cheek (well - until it isn’t), I value the pursuit of mutual pleasure and not taking yourself terribly seriously.

Tabitha is, really, a cat’s name. There’s something vaguely feline about me, granted: partially due to my eyes, huge and blue and delicately balanced above high cheekbones, but moreso in the way I seem to be perpetually lounging. Stretching. Waiting, with a smile on my face. I feel like I was built to be touched, petted, looked after: all curves and soft, pale skin.

Feline charms aside, I’m a magpie to the bone, indulging in excess and collecting pretty things along the way. Life is for living, gleefully, and I spend mine having entirely too much fun engaging in all manner of ill-advised activities.  You won’t catch me leaning into any faux pretensions; I savour tasting menus and midnight snacks in equal measure, and my sense of humour is as broad and filthy as my proclivities – moving fluidly from coldly cerebral to gleeful spoiled brat.

Come on. Indulge me.