Let's face it. I am – to begin with – a girl-crazy girl. Which just naturally leads to the assumption that I love cunt, and all appurtenances thereto. Which I do. Let's face it, cunt and tits and soft thighs and satin-sleek ass-cheeks, oooh, the mere thought gives me leaky plumbing! I like tongues, too, of course, daintily feminine or luridly female – tongues are uniquely adapted to the needs and nuances of my kind of love, all warm and moist and wondrously flexible in the curves and corners of kinky eroticism. Anyway, what reasonably sensuous lover would dare disagree?

Basically, then, I'm equipped with all the usual desires and sex-drives ascribed to the gay sisterhood. I mention this only in passing, though – it is not the main theme here. Oh no, I'm obsessed by a far more freaky twist, one that casts me in a somewhat different light altogether, adding another dimension to my lesbian life. Because of my name, no doubt, my curiously conducive name! Or could that be just an excuse, a fiction of my mind? Well, even so, I'd rather go on preserving it intact, a lovely romantic fiction. Or maybe a lovely freaky truth…

My name is Loi Morlock. It's my real name, exactly as on the birth certificate, no phony. My father used to read a lot of fantasy and science fiction, a fan from way back. And with a name like Morlock, well, I guess his lifetime ambition must have been to sire a daughter whom he could legitimately call Eloi. Eloi Morlock, get it? – out of that old H. G. Wells classic, The Time Machine – the names of those two separate races of the future, the innocent Eloi and the wicked Morlock. (It's been done in the movies, incidentally, with Rod Taylor and Yvette Mimieux, an okay flick!) But my mother wouldn't stand for Eloi, seeing it as a half-baked Eloise – or so the story goes; wise woman! And somehow, by some obscure logic, they compromised on Loi.