Have you ever spotted, out of the corner of your eye, a girl reading on the train--legs crossed in imitation of a perfect gentlewoman--and wondered what she was like behind closed doors? I am that girl, pulling up her sheer black stockings with an impish smile and looking you dead in the eye.          
Playful.            
Coy.            
Anything but ordinary.        
A hopeful romantic, a reticent iconoclast, a sweet femme fatale, a contrarian par excellence, an American rose, a Jewish jezebel, a bashful bookworm, a tattooed tramp, a picaresque pin-up, and an all-natural anachronist.