In the small English village where I grew up, they call me "libidinous." Over-sexed, lustful, a slut. Ever since I hit fifteen and started kissing and frotting behind the bike sheds with boys from the posh local boarding school, I've had a reputation for having loose morals. It didn't help that my father was, and indeed still is, the local vicar. In fact, for obvious reasons it made matters worse. Rather than the veneer of respectability associated with my father's role as the spiritual guardian of the parish having protected me from vitriolic verbal attacks, it actually made me more...