Lily Hart 0

Hi, I'm Lily — 153 centimetres of very bad news for your evening plans.

Yes, I'm tiny. That's not a disclaimer, that's the feature. I'm the pocket rocket your mates don't believe exists: blonde, grey-eyed, and strong enough that you'll stop worrying about my size around the time I pin you down.

Let's do the civilised part first. I play golf three mornings a week — badly, loudly, and with genuine commitment — and I hold a very firm opinion about which waterfront restaurant in Sydney does the best seafood. Book the table. Order everything. I'll keep up on both counts, and I'm much better company than your usual foursome.

Then there's the other part. I don't have a "thing I do" — I have a switch, and it flips both ways.

Some nights I'm the one in charge: spanking, pinning, strap-on, the works — small hands, firm opinions. Some nights I want to be the one handled — and I make an outrageously convincing school girl, secretary, or officer of the law should either of us require arresting. And for the gentleman with imaginative friends — yes, I see couples and doubles, and yes, I've earned my reputation there. Gagging, Greek, the porn-star experience — my list is long because my appetite is longer, and nothing on it is performed. I don't perform. I participate.

Overnights are my favourite invention of mankind: golf in the morning, seafood at sunset, trouble in between and after. Lunch dates for the brave.

So — nine holes, dinner, or straight to the part where you can't remember any other woman's name? I'm flexible in every sense of the word. That's not a pun. Come test it.

Lily, x