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The following Monday, I drove to Franklin High School where I'd taught for more years than I cared to remember. In the library I asked the librarian if she happen to have a copy of the 1990 Yearbook.

"Oh sure, Bill, we keep all of them, going back to 1902."

It didn't take long to find those three girls. Damn, they were beautiful girls and over the weekend I discovered that they'd become gorgeous mature women. To be honest, I didn't remember anything about them. Too many students; too many years.

Over the next two years, I didn't date, I didn't think about those women nor did I remember their names.

One day, I was in line at the CVS in Fairport. "Mr. Isaacson?"

"Yes?" I turned around. The woman standing behind me was vaguely familiar.

"I'm Kendra Jarvis. I hope . . ."

Then it dawned on me. "Of course." I'm sure my eyes lit up. I didn't say it, but I was thinking it, the woman who gave that great blowjob.

"What are you doing here?" She asked. ...

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