A note to our readers who are tender of age: The following letter contains some naughty bits. If you are under 18, you may want to pay close attention.

Dear frykitty:

I want a woman who will let me tear asunder the fabric of civilization for her. Who will let me annihilate anyone who dares to anger her. I want a woman who will look down deep into the tarnished angel inside my soul, and rather than recoiling in horror, will say "Is that for me?" and set me loose to burn the metaphorical topless towers of Ilium that exist today.

I want a woman who will let me lick her clitoris for several hours, teasing and slowly, slowly bringing her to the kind of climax that will make her try and bring her knees together even though my head is between her thighs. Basically, to let me wear her like a feed-bag and write a novel with my tongue.

I want someone even more evil than me, if that's possible.

I want a woman who will look at my body and come up with new tattoos that will strike terror in the hearts of mere mortals. I want someone who can read my writing with a critical eye, yet turn off the critic and tell me that she liked it, if she did. I want a creative woman, someone with interests outside of me, so that I don't have to entertain her all the time.

Basically, here's the thing: I'm Set, and I'm looking for a Nephthys. I want a Hecate, an Innanna, an Isis, a black magick woman, someone who will get me in trouble and leave me to get myself out of it. Who will tell off assholes in bars, who will throw people's mistakes in their faces, who will play the Eris and sow discord in her wake and trust me to ensure that none of it ever touches her.

I want Morgana Le Fay, the one out of Malory. I want Circe. I want someone who will rip my heart out and eat it, yet never quite cast me aside. Someone smart enough to know I make a better friend than an enemy. An equal. A rival. A lover.

Happen to have any of those?

Matthew Rossi

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Dear Mr. Rossi:

My my, you certainly know what you want. Your eloquence has left me with little to add but this: Among my worldwide contacts, I have found four women that meet your criteria. A brief rundown:

1. Vanessa is currently somewhere in Southeast Asia, and unable to send but the briefest of encrypted messages. She says hello, and asks if you like knives.
2. Lura is on assignment with the U.N. Diplomatic Mission in Japan, and is keenly interested in your tattoos. She has a large collection of skins.
3. Hannah is a librarian specializing in children's literature. She giggled a lot when reading your letter, and especially liked your use of the "c-word".
4. Alicia is a secretary in Haiti, and has travelled extensively. When I spoke with her the connection was quite bad, but I believe I heard her say: "squeal like a piggie."

Logically, it would be most convenient for me to arrange an e-mail exchange, or perhaps a meeting on neutral territory with these remarkable women--these amazons who are, perhaps, your last hope on earth of ever finding a mate. Considering the seriousness of your letter, I've decided on a more creative approach.

In approximately ten days time, the four women will be dropped in an undisclosed location somewhere in the vicinity of Auckland, New Zealand. They will each be armed with one hand grenade, a hunting knife, and a sheep. The last woman left alive will earn the privilege of your company.

We will of course keep you apprised of the status of the contest. Stay tuned for more news of this exciting event, and good luck to all our contestants!

frykitty