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...