She still knew when his office hours were.“Professor? This is Carolyn Pierce.”“Yes, Mrs. Pierce. I was afraid that you had forgotten us.” Forg...tten him? She’d sent him a draft of her dissertation two weeks before going into the hospital.“I hadn’t forgotten you. I just couldn’t cope with anything but the babies for the past month. Anyway, did you get my draft?” Bill had delivered it personally, but it was better to ask.“Yes, and I had some suggestions.” Of course, he had suggestions. The soup. Facing a U-shaped bar, there were people dancing and mingling on all sides. The DJ, on a raised platform, was just visible, headphones bouncing on her head as she moved to the music. Most everyone was black. There were a few white women—soon to be one more.A few more steps and I was in the crowd, jostling my way to the bar. Obviously, I’d not made a mistake with my mini skirt and short, braless, camisole. Most of the women were showing even more skin.The bartender laughed when I ordered a. More

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