Her breasts were lifted and held by the shimmering cloth, and their snow-white swells drew the eye and held it, daring any onlooker to yield to tempta...ion and gaze into her cleavage. Below her breasts, the cloth turned silver and drew in tight, accentuating the slimness of her waist, diamonds glittering in the cloth, before dropping in sheer folds to below her knees. There it stopped, in a hem that was so stiffly embroidered in silver thread it seemed a miracle she could walk.Polina walked up. “By my count, 36. Am I correct?” Claire said.Still dumbstruck, I just nodded, the awkwardness of the moment leaving me mute.I finally ended the awkward silence, by asking Claire, “Why didn’t you tell me?”“It was the times, Michael,” Claire answered, “and the situation. If I admitted that you were the father of my baby, eventually, the fact that you were my student would have surfaced and my teaching career would have been over. Besides, you weren’t even in college yet. How could you have cared. More

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