"Yes, that's the law. But what would you rather do, be married or drink a beer?"Isidora was not to be deterred and she proclaimed loudly. "I want a be...er now. You can marry me later."By this time every ear in the restaurant was tuned to our conversation. From a far corner an older black woman responded. "You go girl!"At this, the whole house burst into laughter and the waitress smiled. "Hon, we all agree with you, but I still can't sell you a beer."Feeling that she'd won a small victory Isidora. Then Ward's voice, "Diana! It's Ward! Open up and let us in!"She crawled out of the corner and stood up carefully. She made her way to the door and opened it.Oh, God ... NO! Not you ... you can't see me like this... She burst out sobbing and nearly collapsed.John Wayne caught her and scooped her up in his arms. He carried her into the office to sit down with her cradled in his lap. He muttered, "Son-of-a-bitch!" under his breath. How could someone have done this to her... She had a large knot. The experienced bartender, a Singaporean Indian boy four years my senior, was outspoken, funny and brash, but had a soft smile for me. I responded naturally, almost reflexively, to him, grinning and chatting every time we shared a working shift."You have weird, fairy-tale ideas about sex," he said...He summoned the courage to ask me out for dinner to a fancy restaurant. After two dates, we started to kiss. We couldn't stop. We kissed for hours in gardens, beaches, and behind malls; anywhere. The first was taken from as far away as she could reach with her arm—which meant she had to straddle the toilet to take it—showing her holding up her dress to expose the vibrator. The second was a close-up, without the vibrator, showing just her panties—purple with huge red and yellow polka dots—and the wet stain in the crotch. Next was a shot of the same panties, but down around her knees, followed by a more distant shot of the same thing, showing herself still holding up her dress. Then a.