So when I take a little swerve she doesn’t wake up right away.Me: “Mr. Watkins, has that always been your name?”Watkins: “I beg your pardon?�...Me: “Was your name Watkins when you were born?”Yvonne pipes up as I’d expected. “Objection, relevance, your honor.” But she’s still snoozing, there’s no heat in it. Yet.“I’ll tie it up,” I respond.“Do so promptly, counsel,” the judge says. “Overruled.”Everybody waits for a minute, me for an answer and the witness in uncertainty, so I ask it again. “Was. Hestarted writing erotic stories. I would have thought hejust copied them from somewhere except they were kind ofspecific to us. Jon (my boyfriend) would show me thestories and I would read them aloud to him. Noteverything in the stories turned me on, but I have toadmit reading them, knowing someone had written them forus, and describing situations we fantasized about was aturn on. The story reading always led to great sex.Jon mentioned he was going to start calling some of theguys he picked. More

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