”“I bet she squirts. You can tell by the way she’s sitting. Look at her legs.” Really? You can tell if a woman is a squirter by looking at the...way she sits? I needed some more instruction. But I wasn’t going to get it.Four angry-looking women were headed toward our table.“What’s he doing in here?” the lead asked. I was toast.There was suddenly a wall between me and the approaching women. A wall of six women who all slid out of the booth and stood between it and the rest of the bar. And it was. “My husband is the one that had me do it,” Sandra replied, in a soft low subdued voice, as tears trickled down her pretty face.“Does he let you go on dates?” Terence asked, quietly.“I am not a prostitute!” Sandra said, louder than she had intended to, causing everyone to look at her again, as she said, “Sorry,” and put her finger up to her lips and made an ‘I’ll be quiet’ sign.“Let’s get out of here where we can talk,” Terence said, quietly.Sandra got her things together and followed him out of. More

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