Ralph sat in the back row of the classroom, slumped in the too-small desk, watching his instructor and taking notes in his cramped, pinched writing style. She was sure a looker, he thought, stealing a glance at her legs, her tiny waist and at her long, curly dark hair. Clearly, even apart from the apparent difference in their ages, she was out of his league. He sighed and dotted an “i.”

The pretty teacher introduced herself and asked the students to call her Allie.

“How many of you,” asked Prof. Allie Evans, “took this class as a part of a major in English?

Half of the 17 students, nine male, eight female, raised their hands. Allie smiled.

“How many of you are studying Creative Writing as a part of a vocational pursuit? As a part of learning to write better as a part of your job?”

All the rest of the students, apart from Ralph and one other, lifted their arms.

Allie nodded, then looked closely at Ralph and then at a pretty woman in her 40s. The teacher consulted a roll sheet/seating chart.

“What about you?” asked the teacher, addressing the raven-haired woman sitting in the front row. “Ms…Wiseman…why did you enroll in this class?”

“Please call me Betty,” said the woman. “I’ve always been an avid reader, since I was a little girl. “Lately, I’ve become interested in actually doing the writing myself. I guess I was curious about the nuts and bolts of writing fiction. So, here I am.”

Allie smiled again and nodded. She turned back to her seating chart. “And…Mr. Phillips…is Ralph okay?” she asked.

Ralph nodded. “I’ve tried writing some short fiction over the past year and, like Betty, wanted to delve into the fundamentals of fiction writing.”

“Have you ever got to the point where you submitted any of your writing?” Allie asked.

Ralph nodded.

“How did that go?” she asked next.

“Jury’s still out,” he quipped, and the class chuckled. He added, “I’ve been published twice so far.”

“Congratulations,” said Allie. “If you hear any more on work you’ve submitted, please let us know.”

Ralph nodded again.

“One rhing, about grades,” said Allie to the class. “A letter grade is just that: a letter. It says only that you successfully completed your classroom assignments–or didn’t. I’m required by the university to tender a letter grade, but I think they are not necessarily reflective of what you’ve actually accomplished. Bear in mind that the very successful writer Stephen King failed abysmally in the one creative writing course he took.”

A woman raised her hand. “Is that true?”

“Of course not,” said Allie. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

_____

A week later, the professor told the class: “Over the next couple of weeks, I’ll want to meet with you, one on one, for a brief dialogue. The purpose of this meeting will be to divulge your particular interests in writing and how this course will best serve those interests. It’ll be very informal and last around 20 minutes. Oh. And the university journal, The Argus: you can earn extra credit by volunteering your time as a slush pile reader. Let me know if you’re interested.

As the class became engaged in a “free write,” Allie turned up a leather-bound appointment book and drifted from student to student, arranging appointments. When she got to Ralph, near the end of class, she asked what would be convenient for him and he replied, “Any time. I’m retired,” he explained. The class, which ran on Tuesdays and Thursdays, from 2-4pm, then concluded and Allie asked him if that afternoon would work for him. He agreed that it would.

After everyone else filed out, Allie asked him if he’d like to join her in the university coffee shop, where they could enjoy a cup while they talked. “Or is it too late for coffee for you?” she asked.

Ralph said, “I drink coffee all day long.”

“Then you’re a natural writer,” she told him with a smile. They walked the short distance from the classroom building to the student union, to the coffee shop.

Allie was very informal in her questioning, asking about the breadth of Ralph’s literary interests and what his ultimate expectations were with regard to writing. He listened attentively to her questions and answered as best he could, but was frankly more interested in Allie than in her queries. Was she flirting with him, he wondered. He told her he had been divorced for almost two years and had two daughters, fully grown. He didn’t mention that he missed his ex- dreadfully.

“If you’ll pardon my asking, Ralph, how old are you?” she said. He told her.

______

“Your next assignment,” said Allie one afternoon, “is to get together with at least one other fellow student and collaborate on a short story. I’ve taken the liberty of selecting a partner for you, based on age, which is superficial, but it’s a pretty reliable parameter, in terms of personal history and perspective.” She handed out a slip of paper to each student, with the name of their partner on it.

A hand shot into the air.

“Yes, Betty?” said Allie.

“How long of a story do you want?”

“Whatever length you and your partner feel comfortable with,” replied the teacher. “I’d prefer at least flash fiction, which for our purposes would be from 500 to 1,000 words.”

“How long do we have to complete the assignment?” inquired Matt, a 30-something man seated in the middle of the classroom, whose presence seemed to radiate sexuality.

“I’ll give you two weeks, or four class periods,” said Allie. “You may want to meet outside of class to complete your assignment; in fact, I’d say it’s almost a must. The questionaire I distributed last time showed that of the 17 students enrolled in CW, all but two of you are unmarried.”

“We’re all adults, Allie,” another woman pointed out.

Allie smiled. “Precisely, Priscilla,” she said. “This is another course, like any other. This is your assignment; it’s homework.”

“Tell my wife that,” muttered another student. The class laughed.

“I suggest you take your laptops and meet in the coffee shop in the student union after class,” said Allie. “I met with a student there for our dialogue last week and there was very little traffic after this class let out. When you turned in your class schedule, I saw that no one has another class after this one and I presume that most of those who are employed don’t need to report back to work after this class.”

No one raised an objection. “So, any questions?”

No one had any questions, either.

“Alright, time for a free write.”

Ralph gazed across the classroom and observed that Betty, the student whom Allie had selected to partner with him, was headed his way. This was expected, since she was obviously the student closest in age to him.

“Hi, partner,” she said brightly, approaching his desk as the class let out.

“Hi,” he answered back, instantly noting that her ring finger was bare. She made the same appraisal of him and they both smiled.

Ralph came to his feet and they filed from the classroom. Entering the coffee shop, the same waitress approached their table and smirked at Ralph. “Will you be having your usual?” she asked.

“Yes, thanks,” he said.

“Come here often?”asked Betty.

He shook his head no. “Just once before,” he replied.

Betty ordered. She took out her laptop and booted it up.

“Maybe we should introduce ourselves a little,” suggested Ralph.

“Okay. I’m Betty Monroe, unmarried, 42 years old. I live in the city. I work as a copywriter for a Fortune 500 company. Although I write for a living, I’m taking this course in order to strengthen my creative approach to writing.”

“Ralph Phillips,” said Ralph. “I’m unmarried–now, and I retired two years ago.”

“What did you used to do?” asked Betty.

“I was a chemical engineer for 25 years,” he replied. “I own a couple of proprietary patents and so I retired.”

“How old are you, Ralph?” asked Betty pointedly.

“In two months I’ll be 55,” said Ralph.

“I see,” said Betty cooly.

“Is there a problem?” asked Ralph.

“It’s just that, well, our world view won’t be sympatico,” Betty began.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re practically a full generation older than I am, Ralph,” she said. “I mean, I wasn’t even alive when they landed on the moon, whereas you were.”

“Betty, this isn’t a dating service, it’s a creative writing course.”

Their drinks were served.

“Certainly, I know that,” snapped Betty with overt hostility.

“Then what is it?” said Ralph with hostility of his own.

“I would like a more contemporary perspective from a writing partner,” she said bluntly. “You’re just too damn old.” She rose from the table, her coffee untouched. Folding up her laptop, she stalked off.

Walking back to the classroom, where he’d forgotten his raincoat, Ralph found Allie still there, typing away. He briefly described the incident at the coffee shop.

“Not to worry,” Allie said brightly. “Another student dropped out, leaving a second student without a partner. It happens.”

“So who’ll partner up with me?” he asked, doing some rapid arithmetic.

“I will,” she said. “You’ve had work published before, so you were probably too advanced for Betty anyway. She would’ve been intimidated by your track record.”

“If you say so,” muttered Ralph, remembering the scene with his erstwhile partner.

“At all events, Betty will have the youth she sought,” said Allie with a crooked smile.

“Do you want to go to the coffee shop?” asked Ralph.

“No need,” she said. “We can do it here.”

Ralph took a seat at a desk near Allie’s.

They performed their introductions. When it came to the age question, Ralph was surprised. Allie knew Ralph was mid-50s and Ralph figured her for mid-40s. He got it wrong by 10 years.

He said, “And I would’ve sworn you weren’t a minute over 30,” he said gallantly.

“I’ll be 53 after the first of the year,” she assured him. In response to his look, she brandished her naked ring finger.

They both smiled.

______

Ten days later, Ralph sat at what had in fact become his regular table in the university coffee shop, tap-tap-tapping away at the fiction on which he was collaborating with Allie. He paused to sip from an iced coffee and glanced up in time to spot Betty threading her way through the tables to the rear of the shop. In her wake walked Matt. the 30-something stud muffin from the class. Matt looked up, spied Ralph and waved. Ralph returned the greeting, but Betty, observing Ralph, spoke shortly to Matt, who then sheepishly averted his eyes back to his companion.

Ralph only chuckled and returned to his laptop. He was joined soon after by Allie, who took no notice of the other two. Betty spied her, however, and her lips became a thin, unsmiling line.

“Hi,” Allie said as she settled herself at the table.

“Hi yourself,” said Ralph.

“Your number one fan is at the table near the back,” she whispered.

“I didn’t think you saw them,” remarked Ralph.

“I’m a teacher,” she explained. “I see everything.” She smiled at him as though she knew a secret.

The secret was that they had become lovers only the night before. Her eyes twinkled.

“Looking good, professor,” whispered Ralph.

“Feeling good,” she agreed.

“Can I get you anything, Allie?” asked Ralph.

“I’ll take another helping of what you served last night; or was it this morning…” She erupted with laughter that sounded to Ralph like ice tinkling in a glass tumbler.

Ralph glanced at the other table and spied Betty observing them with a jaded eye. Allie looked too and said, “My, she looks perturbed.” She smirked.

“I wonder what her problem is?” said Ralph.

“Maybe her young Adonis can’t get it up,” suggested Allie, who laughed all over again.

When Betty and Matt glared at them, Allie feigned seeing them for the first time and waved. Reluctantly, the other couple returned the greeting.

“Ah, youth,” murmured Allie, catching the waitress’s eye and placing her order.

“Did you complete the outline for our short story, Ralph?” asked Allie, suddenly all business.

“Just finishing up,” he announced, turning the computer so she could see.

“No, that’s alright,” said Allie, “I’m come look over your shoulder.”

Betty’s eyes were sharp as gimlets as they absorbed the closeness of teacher and student. Allie came around the table and leaned far over Ralph’s shoulder, their cheeks almost touching.

Ralph felt a little awkward, but not Allie. “I could take you right now, Phillips,” she said in a low, heated voice.

This struck Ralph as funny and he made a smart remark about doing it on the table. Allie turned to face him, her brows lifted provocatively. “I’ll get on my knees and suck your cock,” she threatened in a stage whisper.

“Ssh,” he cautioned. “They’ll hear!”

Allie turned her face back to the laptop, but dropped her hand, unseen by the others, into Ralph’s lap and began kneading his privates. Ralph gasped.

“Don’t tell me you never got it on in a public place,” she chided, increasing the pressure on his genitals.

Ralph’s head swam. “Al…Allie, please, stop.”

“Oh,” she murmured with a pout, releasing him. “You’re no fun.”

She went back around to her own seat. Ralph’s face was red and he was breathing hard. Allie took the laptop and turned it so that it was facing her. She typed a few strokes and pushed it back towards Ralph.

It read:

“Is your dick hard, lover boy?”

He nodded mutely.

Allie pursed her lips. “Goody,” she said.

_____

They were having supper at Allie’s; aside from being a beautiful woman and a professor and an award-winner author, she was a gourmet cook. Ralph shook his head. How did he get so lucky? he wondered.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, spotting the gesture.

He told her, but her reaction wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” she said matter of factly.

“Fate?” he asked. “Destiny? Kismet?”

“I don’t believe in any of that horseshit,” she said gruffly.

“Then how do you explain it?’ he asked.

She looked at him somberly for such a long moment that he became restive.

“I told you I’ve never been married,” she went on, filling in the gaps where his thoughts had been percolating. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I never pressed you about ex-wives, significant others, children and the like?”

“Well, sort of.”

“You were married to your high school sweetheart in 1994,” Allie said. “She died tragically in an automobile accident four years later. You had no children…”

Ralph’s jaw grew rigid. Was he being stalked? he wondered.

“You can find out anything on the web,” she added, easing Ralph’s mind a little. “Then you married Gail Fisher, a high school biology teacher, in 1998. You had two daughters, Beth and Kris, now 20 and 19 respectively…”

“What’s the point of the summary, Allie?’ Ralph asked, stemming the tide impatiently.

“The point,” said Allie, stepping forward, “is that I want to marry you!”

“What?” he yelped, taken by surprise.

“I’ve taken you to my bed, many times, over the past month,” said Allie. “I let you kick the tires, look under the hood, take my chassis for a spin around the block.”

“How can you say you want to marry me?” asked Ralph. “We barely know one another.”

“You knew Gail only two months before you proposed,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, things like that,” said Ralph. “How do you even know that? It’s not on the web. Only Gail and I know that…” He paused as a light dawned in his eyes. “You know Gail,” he said slowly.

“Right the first time,” said Allie. “I met Gail in junior college back in the 90s when we were both undergraduates. We kept in touch. Literally,” she added wistfully.

“What do you mean?” he asked, dreading the answer.

Allie ignored the question. “Gail always told me, ‘I’ve got this hot guy. He’s hung.’ and she was right.” Allie smiled saucily.

Ralph frowned. Who was she kidding? he thought. He had always been only modestly endowed, at least according to the women he’d known.

“And she said this guy could go all night,” said Allie.

Well, okay, maybe that was true, agreed Ralph to himself.

“We used to compete for guys,” Allie went on. “But she told me to stay away from you, and then you were married, and so…”

“But now?” he prompted.

“Gail emailed me a while back and told me that her divorce had been finalized and it was open-season on her old man.” Allie tittered lightly.

“But how did you even know I’d enroll in your class?” asked Ralph.

“That was serendipity,” admitted Allie, “but when Gail told me you were taking the class, I shuffled class schedules around just enough…” She smiled complacently.

“So what now?” asked Ralph.

Allie shrugged. “Honeymoon in Hawaii?” she suggested, only half kidding.

“What makes you think I even want another wife, Allie?” Ralph asked.

“In me you’ve got a woman within three years of your own age, so our memory set and social perspectives are sympatico. I’m a well-compensated, tenured professor, so you know I’m not scoping you out just to get your dough. Plus, I’ve got a killer bod’–you’ve got to admit.”

Ralph nodded unconsciously. It was all true.

“Plus,” she added, “I like to go all night.”

_____

Ralph stood uncertainly under a beacon of light, squinting against the glare. Slowly he moved forward, out of the light, and suddenly it was dark as midnight. The roar of an engine caught his attention and up to him sped a sports car. He couldn’t see the driver for the dim light. Abruptly the vehicle slammed on the brakes and drew to a halt. Ralph gasped. He fell forward, over the hood of the car and could hear the cooling engine ticking.

Next Ralph found himself in a parking lot behind some retail stores. He observes two vagrants, a young woman and an even younger man, rummaging through a dumpster, caching items in a large black trash bag. They pay him no mind. Suddenly, Donna Lee, a woman Ralph knew as a teenager, appears and the other woman begins softly singing. At the conclusion of the impromptu concert, Donna Lee applauds politely. She tells the pair that she’ll take them to the bus station and buy them tickets home. The three disappear out of Ralph’s vision.

Ralph startles awake and Allie is there in bed beside him. He tells her his dream and asks what it means.

Rather than explain, she says, “You can use your dreams and bizarre half-memories in your writing, lover, but don’t include a dream in the text. That is a faux pas and a cop out and an outdated literary technique.” Then Allie goes down on him.

_____

In class several days later, during a free write, Ralph is immersed in the creative process. He pays no attention to the rest of the class. He hears Allie say something from the front of the room, but he pays it no mind. At once the rumble of conversation increases and Ralph hears whistles and cheers and applause and his name.

He glances up and everyone is looking at him.

“Congratulations, Ralph, old man,” says Matt, slapping him on the shoulder.

Ralph stares stupidly.

“I hope you’ll be very happy!” he hears Betty say.

Another student asks Ralph, “When’s the big day?”

“For what?” asks Ralph, still out of the loop.

“Your and Allie’s wedding, man,” says yet another student. “Allie just told us,” he said.

“Like iron filings drawn to a magnet, Ralph’s eyes lock with Allie’s. She’s running her pointed tongue over her pink lips.

Ralph gulps.

_____

Ralph is in Allie’s bed and they just got high. Ralph peers closely at the soapstone pipe Allie always proffers.

“What kind of pot is this?” he asks. He has forgotten to inquire about their purported wedding. He learns from the class that everyone will be in attendance.

“The park is a great idea for a wedding, Ralph,” said Mary, a 30-ish student in the creative writing course. “Good thinking. Allie told us it was your idea.” She smiled and her mouth looks so wide he’s afraid she’ll swallow him.

Ralph asks Allie again, “What kind of pot is this?”

She shrugs. “The kind that gets you high, I guess. Why? Does it taste weird to you?”

Ralph tires to form an answer, but he is having difficulty organizing his thoughts, a sensation coincident with his deepening acquaintance with Allie.

“No, it’s fine,” he says, and sighs.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get high before we met,” she remarks.

“The firm I worked for could fire you for cause if you got busted for smoking pot,” remembered Ralph. “Besides, it was illegal most everywhere until just a few years ago.”

“Wanna smoke some crack?” Allie asks him out of nowhere.

“No,” he says positively. “That shit is addictive and it is still illegal. You don’t do it, do you?”

“No,” she replied. “But one of my students gave me a dime bag and told me how to smoke it.” He looks down at a couple of small white rocks Allie holds in her palm.

Ralph shakes his head no.

“Okay, baby,” says Allie agreeably. She tosses the crystals into the waste basket.

Ralph wants to tell Allie about the personality changes he’s been experiencing, but doesn’t want to worry her. So he says nothing.

There is but one class period left in the course, and Allie is sitting up in bed reading manuscripts created by her students and submitted in lieu of a final exam.

“How do they look?” asked Ralph, seeing Allie chuckle.

Allie only shakes her head and shuffles through the pile.

“I invited someone over tonight, Ralph,” she tells him.

“Tonight?” he asks. “It’s getting sort of late for guests, isn’t it? We’ll be going to bed soon.”

“That’s the thing,” replied Allie. “I want us all to go to be together, you know?”

Ralph knew that in her colorful past, Allie had been a player, but he hardly expected that life to continue, and if it did, to include him.

“Who is it?” he asked cautiously.

She hesitated a beat and then said, “Gail.”

His ex-wife!

“You talk about her in your sleep. You told me you’re still in love with her,” she pointed out. “And she misses you too, Ralph.”

“Allie, that part of my life is over. It’s behind me.”

After a moment, he asked, “Did you and Gail ever…?”

She nods.

Ralph blew out a breath. “Whew!”

She is looking close at him. She narrows her eyes.

“So what do you expect to happen here tonight, Allie?” he asks with morbid curiosity. Oddly, it seems to him, Ralph doesn’t feel at all turned off at the prospect of making love with both his former wife and his girlfriend. And he iss still in love with Gail.

“I can see you’re intrigued,” noted Allie with a smile.

Ralph couldn’t help himself; he grinned. “Well,” he said, “a Ralph sandwich. What’s not to like?”

“Then try this on for size, lover,” said Allie. “She’s bringing someone with.”

“The electric spark died instantly. Feeling proprietary about both his ex- and his current girlfriend, Ralph didn’t want to share.

Seeing Ralph’s distress, Allie smiled and put him at his ease. “You can relax, Ralph. Gail is bringing another woman.”

“How will that work?” Ralph wondered aloud.

Allie smiled. “We’ll just play it by ear, okay?”

_____

When the other couple arrived, Ralph noticed obliquely that there was someone, a slender, 30-ish blonde, in company with his ex-wife, but Ralph only had eyes for Gail. She looked good: a few pounds heavier, but it suited her, a positive contrast to the whippet-thin physiogamy she’d had for the years of their marriage.

Gail introduced Petula–‘Pet’–to Allie and Ralph, but it didn’t really register. He couldn’t take his eyes off Gail. Her hair, still dark brown, was longer, the lines in her face sharper, but she looked, Ralph decided, damned good. The two couples sat around drinking wine for a while, but Ralph didn’t taste his. The gathering was friendly. Pet addressed Ralph.

“So you retired early, Ralph. What do you do to fill your days?”

When he didn’t immediately respond, Allie touched his elbow.

“Oh,” he said. “I take classes at the university. That’s how I met Allie.”

“That’s how everyone meets Allie,” said Gail with a little smile.

Ralph found the remark jarring. Another reminder that Gail and Allie been intimate? he wondered. Feeling suddenly left out, he grew quiet again.

“Hey,” said Pet, “I’ve got some blow. A full gram,” she added.

Allie perked up, but Gail didn’t react. She was watching him.

“Are you into illegals now, Ralph?” she asked in a neutral tone.

Ralph remembered Gail as being almost reverential about treating her body “as a temple,” and how she’d seldom even drunk alcohol during their nearly 20 year marriage. He looked at her curiously. Then was relieved when she didn’t partake. Pet sprinkled the translucent crystals onto a small mirror and cut them finely with a razor blade. Allie participated with enthusiasm, as did Pet, but Gail concentrated on watching Ralph.

Of course, Allie pulled out her stash and they smoked some pot. Gail did participate here. After a few minutes, the voices became a soft murmur and Ralph felt himself nodding off. When he awoke, Gail was sitting on the sofa, watching him.

“Where…where are the others?” he squeaked out.

“Allie took Pet upstairs…” said Gail, “…to see her etchings.” She laughed.

“They went up to bed?” asked Ralph bluntly.

“Uh huh. How does that sit with you, Ralph?” Gail asked.

“I…I don’t know. I’m confused.”

Gail didn’t say anything.

“I feel,” said Ralph, “totally at sea.”

“I’m not surprised,” replied Gail, taking up Allie’s small dope pipe. “How often do you smoke this shit?” she asked.

“Every time Gail and I are together,” replied Ralph. “Sometimes two or three times a night. What?” he asked, “it’s just pot, right?”

Gail drew the pipe to her nose and sniffed. “Not quite,” she said.

“Then what is it?” he asked.

“Peyote,” she answered. “Mescal buttons,” she added. “Probably blended with a little PCP or opium.”

“I…don’t do hallucinogens,” protested Ralph rather fecklessly.

“Okay, Ralph.”

“You mean,” he said, “that Allie has been drugging me with hallucinogenic drugs? Is that why I’m seeing things, imagining things that don’t really happen?”

“You were always good at math,” she told him. “Put two and two together.”

“Why would Allie do that?” he asked.

“I haven’t spent that much time with her over the past couple of years,” said Gail.

“She said she knew you from back in the day,” said Ralph.

“I was a bit of a wild child in my undergraduate days,” allowed Gail. “Then I settled down and married you. I figured all the craziness was behind me.”

“And now?” he asked.

Gail took a moment to answer. “I’m still in love with you, Ralph. I never fell out of love with you. It was the empty-nest syndrome and your retirement and the sudden closeness all the time. I felt like I was smothering.. I want to give us a second chance. How do you feel about that?” she asked.

“I think…I…God, you look good, Gail!”

She smiled.

“How do you feel about Allie? she asked. You’ve become a fixture in the other’s life over the last few months. Are you in love with her, Ralph?”

“It’s been like rush week back in college, too much, too soon, and now I learned that she’s been feeding me psychedelics…I don’t think I would categorize it as love. I’ve been lonely this last two years,” he admitted. “I guess I was trying to fill up the spaces, you know?”

Gail nodded.

“What is, uh, your relationship with Pet?” he asked.

“She teaches at the same high school that I do,” explained Gail. “She’s a lesbian and I told her my intentions with respect to you, and offered to fix her up with a crazy-sexy woman who made good bread. Pet is a bit of a loose cannon and I thought they’d hit it off. They did.”

Ralph sat contemplating what Gail had told him. As if reading his mind, she said, “I think you have about outlived your shelf life with Allie, Ralph. She’s used to more…variety…in her love life, if you know what I mean.”

“How did your plans for me figure into everything that Allie did, Gail?” asked Ralph.

“Ah,” said Gail, waving a finger at Ralph, “that would be telling.”

Ralph stood. “Let’s get out of here, go back home.” For the first time in two years, Ralph was again considering their former domicile as a home.

“I like the sound of that, Ralph,” said Gail. “Should we leave Allie and Pet a note?”

He shook his head. “I think they’ll figure it out. I’ve got the feeling that this is what at least some of you had planned all along.”

Gail stood as well. Ralph approached his ex- and kissed her lips gently, and then with more passion.

“Umm,” she said.

As they drifted to the door, held tight in one another’s arms, Gail asked, “What grade did you you get for the course?”

“An E,” he replied at once.

“You mean, you failed’?” she asked.

Ralph shook his head. “No,” he said. “I got extra credit.”