OL' MAN S'TAN BEQUEATHED ME as part of the kickback to Keith.
Baby in the basket, named after that man-above-men Brando we let everyone think (just for color) I spurned. But I'm neither stretched out nor worn out, baby! It's the dipstick who denies herself her own transcendence just because of the caprices of a timid or otherwise-occupied partner. "Stop the ride I wanna get off!" is just the breadth of a demon's bristle away from "Sweet Satan I think I've grasped the eternal in your thickly-settled grip!"
I'll be Jimi's girl at the drop of a black feathered hat, and just as jocularly take a spin with Spanish Tony, Hampton Mick, or half the hombres of a colorful Kingston village. Not even the ol' man's wicked imagination is a match for my wiles. Try an' break me: I'll bend over backwards and you'll end up with your head up your ass, if that's the kind of thing you're into!