Sharon was first clarinet. That cloistered little suburb of our high school that was the concert band had its own marks of favour - playing the tuning...note at the beginning of the class was one of those marks, and Sharon was regularly accorded the honour. Little by little my infatuation grew.It was 1978. I'll never forget the shirts she used to wear, the stripes accentuating her petite bust. The flared pants that climbed her long legs up to her gorgeous behind. Straight brown hair hanging past. “Ok, I’m sorry this didn’t work out. Um before I leave do you mind if I use your bathroom?” “Yea, go right ahead” she replied. She led him to the bathroom. “Thanks, I’ll be right out.” She stood there for a minute, relieved that the night was almost over. She was lost in her thoughts, debating if she should tell her husband or not. She was so lost that she didn’t hear him come out of the bathroom. She didn’t hear him step up behind her. He grabbed her, wrapping one arm around her chest. More

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