‘Doctor Sharpton?’ Hot, humid, sweaty, the ancient hotel room with its crumbling walls and ratty-looking mat on the rough wooden floor to its unev...n, lumpy bed smelling of sweat, had never seen better days. Dr Thomas William Sharpton looked up from his book. Paolo had entered the room and stood in the doorway, batting away insects with one hand while holding an object in the other. Dr Sharpton stood up from the chair on the balcony where he’d been sitting. He crossed over to the barefoot young. I still had Paul’s number in memory—why I’ll never know--but, then again, I still had Gail’s cell, too.Amy answered almost immediately. After exchanging pleasantries she agreed to see Sheila and me at ten the following morning. I suggested we call out for a pizza and Sheila agreed. It was a bit late to start cooking and neither of us was much in the mood for a big meal. I slipped on a pair of running shorts to answer the door and carried the box to the kitchen, laughing when I saw Sheila. Mine.I stayed after the other students left class that eveningto test my theory. She didn’t notice as I watched hercleaning the blackboard. Her large hips swayed witheach rub across the board. Her dress was fairly low cutfor a lady in her mid 40s but her legs were nicelyfirm. She turned around and saw me still sitting at mydesk.“Jim. It’s time to go home,” she said, ignoring me andthen taking a seat at her desk to go over the day’spapers.I got up and walked around. Except I'd just uncorked the bottle."Don't worry, Ronni," I said. "Somewhere along the line the right guy will learn about you and find you perfectly gorgeous." Most of 'em think I'm a lesbian," she said.This was much further into this line of conversation than Ronni and I had ever been. Sure, we talked. You don't coach a kid through high school math and science and English and social studies without talking. I knew she was a great talker, and I liked to think that I might have had a bit of the.