I stared at her chest, thinking, here comes another poignant memoir about a girl's first period. She proceeded to shatter my bored expectations, however, by regaling the stunned class with a searing tale about a forty-something woman who goes on a hot weather sexual rampage with everyone from her son's football team's starting D-line, to a daisy-chain of her daughter's lesbian cheerleader classmates. But when she got to the part of her story dealing with 'richly anticipated anal fireworks', even I had to draw the line. The class was Adult Ed., but not that adult.
"Thank you, Janice," I interrupted hastily. "I think we can all see where your story is, um, headed." I grinned nervously at the wide-eyed students in the suddenly-humid classroom, not daring to stand up. "Class dismissed," I said, my mind gone blank.

After all of the other students had staggered out of the room, I found myself alone with the hot-minded honey known as Janice.

"Aren't you going to criticize my story, Mr. Lanigan?" she asked.

"Criticize? Your story? Well, um ..." I stared, transfixed, at her huge, heaving chest as she rapidly walked up to and around my desk. I rose in self-defense and she kissed me on the lips. 

"I know it's just fiction," she said earnestly, "but it rings a lot truer when you get your facts right."