And your makeup. Are you trying to be a whore? A Mexican hooker?" Tiffany was crying and kept reaching for Kaitee, sobbing "I can explain...I can expl...in..." but Kaitee was relentless. "And earlier today! What did you do to yourself? Your hair was braided -- what do they call it? -- cornrows? And the padded pants. You looked like one of those black girls we saw on Hollywood Boulevard, the prostitutes. Why would you even dress up like that? ... Unless...unless you..."Tiffany fell to her knees. She backed a couple of feet from the van and posed for me while I quickly focused and snapped the picture. Once again I whispered, "You really are beautiful."This time, with a beaming smile, she charged the van and, before I could react, had stuck her arms and head into my window and gave me a tight embrace. Wanting to return the hug, I moved my left arm and accidentally brushed against her small but firm breast."Oops!" she said, but the smile on her face said there was no malice.I got my arm. More

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