When I was still in Sunday School, ladies' romance magazines were a forbidden but tantalizing lure into the adult world. Every article promised a mysterious pleasure that was just out of my reach.
"I knew I should resist his advances, but when he touched me..."
"One woman's secret rendezvous with lust..."
I'd grow warm between my legs as I read the barely-veiled accounts of illicit encounters. As I slipped into the world of trembling hands, hard kisses and racing pulses, my own incipient urges demanded their due. Exploring my own sweet girlhood, the pages of Modern Romance formed the backdrop: shuddering, velvet-leaved and imbued with eroticism.
One night my eyes lit on a portrait of a man overwhelmed by passion, literally sweeping an unresisting beauty into his arms. "Tabu," it touted, "the forbidden perfume."
Ah, I thought, what kind of power must that woman be hiding, to create a desire so rebellious, so ardent. My quickened heartbeat memorized the syllables of her allure.... Tabu. Tabu. Tabu.
When it came time to unleash the confident and sexual woman I eventually became, there seemed no other possible choice. My tigress would not be a girl next door or a long-suffering slattern. She would be the darkly welcome addiction-- one who would drive men to make secret visits in the shadows, to work long hours in the service of her demands, and one who would answer their passion with a desire as hungry as their own.
Every day she lives in me as real as my heartbeat. Because becoming Tabu is a transformation that leaves unchanged the essence of my true self... the little girl, enthralled. The woman, unbound.