My first time was in the front seat of Dr. Neal Stretch's silver Austin Mini Cooper.  I'm pretty sure I squealed.  My naïveté amused him.  I hadn't known such a thing existed.

Sweet, golden coils, nestled beneath my denim-clad bottom like a beautifully unfolding mystery; a flirtation of modern comfort and luxury radiating out like contagion - like some communicable disease every part of my body wanted desperately.

I was Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.  And the heated leather seat upon which I rested mon derriere was my delicious new designer wardrobe.


And now, some six years later, I have my own.  And every time I slide onto that bucket seat and feel the sweet embrace of warmth I think, "This is it.  I have arrived.  Check me out with my hot caboose!"

My bum is toasted therefore I am at peace with the universe.

And sometimes I turn it all the way up to 5 and it's so hot that I'm squirming and sweating but it's a beautiful thing and I can't turn it down because that would make me spoiled...