“What was that all about?” Dan asked Katie after the girl had left.

“Do I have to draw you a picture?” Katie asked him, wide-eyed in mock exasperation, her hands on her hips, followed by a giggle, then adding, “I told you that you had some admirers, but you didn’t want to hear it. Well, voila. There’s one.”

“Where were all these admirers when I was unattached, young and very lonely?” Dan said, laughing.

“I don’t see a ring on your finger, boss. And I saw you checking her out as she walked away.”

“Maybe I’ll buy one to wear around the office,” he said, ignoring her comment.

“Don’t think that would make much of a difference,” she retorted with a wry smile.

“Do you really know her?”

“Yeah, she’s actually a good kid. But be careful.”

“Don’t worry, my honor is safe.”

“It’s not that. She’s connected.”

“Connected to what?” He asked, puzzled.

She gave him an open-mouthed stare of disbelief. “Are you really that dense?”

“I guess so,” he said.

“You know Don Corleone?”

“Not personally, but I’ve seen his movies.”

“Well, the local version,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Glad I don’t own a racehorse”

“There are other things that can be cut off and left under your sheets,” she said frowning. “But she really is a good kid, and I think she just genuinely likes you, and not necessarily like that.”

“Like what?” He asked, deadpan, teasing her.

“Geez Louise, I’ll bring a drawing pad and some crayons tomorrow and draw you some diagrams with big lettering and small words.”

“Great secretary and an artist to boot. Lucky me.”

She giggled, but then added “I’m not kidding.”

“Not to worry. I’m harmless as you know.”

“Tell that to her uncle. And no, I don’t know.”

“Hey, I haven’t said or done anything inappropriate to you or anyone else, have I?”

“No,” she admitted. “But maybe I’m just not your type.”

That was not a question he wanted to answer, so he simply said, “Fortunately, I have to go evaluate Ms. Hunter again now while I still have all bodily parts fully attached.” He said and walked out the door with a legal pad in hand.

“Yeah, go make some new fans,” she called after him giggling as he closed the door.

He got to Ms. Hunter’s class five minutes before the class was slated to start and was happy to see her sitting at her desk without a magazine or book open in front of her. In fact, the textbook for the class was the only item on her desk. He nodded at her and made his way to the back of the room, noticing only one empty chair available next to Ms. Paula Moretti who looked at him with a broad smile as he approached.

“Hello again, Dean Amor. Nice to see you,” she said sweetly as he sat next to her. He said hi and tried his best to focus on Ms. Hunter up front. Peripherally he noticed, thankful, that Paula was also looking at her instructor and not him. Her scent, though, washed over him—a just a touch of a fine perfume, unknown to him, but impossible to ignore. He wondered whether he actually needed all of his body parts. The Yacuza, after all, managed just fine with the tips of their fingers cut off for their transgressions, no? He smiled at his own black humor while wondering whether Katie had been teasing him again or not as Ms. Hunter actually rose and began her lecture. It was not perfect, but it was an incredible improvement over his last visit. She put notes on the board, called on students by name, answered questions fully. Overall, it was a very good class. He was very pleased—perhaps more so than at the news of his new program approval earlier. He had made a difference for Ms. Hunter and her students. That truly mattered to him. Hard work and low pay meant nothing compared to the feeling he had while sitting in a very different class. He was proud of Ms. Hunter, really proud of her. It may be foolish to feel pride for someone simply doing what they should be doing in the first place, but there it was.

At the end of the class, he was pleased to see that several students stopped by Ms. Hunter’s desk and lingered there for questions. Paula rose and left, saying good-bye to him with a smile, leaving behind the lingering essence of her perfume as evidence that a lovely young woman had been there. He looked around the room and noticed another beautiful young woman looking his way—the classically beautiful blonde he had noticed on his first day, Katie’s other friend. And as he rose up from his seat, a third woman, like him, in her mid to late twenties, approached him carrying something in her hand.

“Hello, Dean Amor,” she said. We have not formally met; I’m Pamela Schmidt and I just wanted to say thank you for the difference you made to this class.

“I have not done anything—Thank Ms. Hunter for her excellent lesson.”

“It figures you’d say that. Anyway, I just wanted to give you a token of my appreciation and respect,” she said, handing him what looked to be a book wrapped in colored tissue paper with a bow. “It’s my favorite poet, and I just wanted you to have it.” She added.

“I can’t accept a gift,” he said.

“Please, it’s nothing – just a book, but it means everything to me, and I’ll be really hurt if you don’t take it. I bought it and dedicated it just for you.”

He was taken aback and not knowing what to do or say, decided to accept the gift lest it cause offense or pain to the student. “Thank you,” he said, “Even though it is my policy not to accept anything of value from students, I’ll make an exception in your case just this once as I don’t want to give offense and do appreciate the gesture. You are very kind.”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“No, you are very kind, and we are very lucky to have you here,” she said, then shyly walked away, looking over her shoulder at him before she reached the door.

He noticed the beautiful blonde still staring at him and smiling. He smiled back and headed for the front of the room. She was wearing simple blue jeans, a powder-blue cotton blouse and sneakers. But she still looked every inch the model—truly one of the most stunningly beautiful women he had ever seen.

“Thank you for a terrific lecture, Ms. Hunter. It was a pleasure to sit in your class today. Stop by when you have some time, and we’ll have a chat. Nice work, though,” he said, as she smiled and thanked him for coming.

Back at his office, Katie immediately locked on to the fact that he was carrying a giftwrapped package. “Ooh,” she called out, “your admirers are now buying you candy? Flowers soon to follow?”

“Oh, stop it,” he chided. It’s just a book from a student.

“The Kama Sutra? Lady Chatterley's Lover?” She offered wide-eyed and straight-faced.

“More likely Animal Farm or Lord of the Flies.”

“You’re such a romantic,” she said, batting her eyes at him, hands clasped under her chin.

He opened the package and groaned. “Oh, Lord.”

Peeking around him she burst out with peals of laughter. It was Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet.

Katie laughed until tears glistened in her eyes. “You’re going to ruin my mascara,” she said giggling while wiping under her eyes with both index fingers.

“It’s not funny.”

“Oh, it’s pretty funny,” she said, adding “Is this the first time an admirer has given you a copy of The Prophet?” she asked.

“No.” he answered dryly and truthfully, making her burst into peals of laughter again.

“Cut it out. It’s not funny. The poor woman did not take the time and trouble to buy this book for your amusement.” Dan said, actually getting annoyed as he felt guilty about the student involved as well for absolutely no rational reason.

“No, and I’m sure she didn’t buy a copy of the single “You’re Having My Baby” for my amusement either, but you’ll forgive me if I laugh when she gives it to you next week,” Katie added, sniffling, and giggling at the same time.

“Come on, Katie. I feel bad. I’m sure she’s a very nice person that does not deserve being laughed at.”

“All right, all right.” Katie said, composing herself. “I don’t mean to be mean. It’s just funny. Who does that?” she said.

“Let’s just drop it.”

“I am sorry Dan. I was ribbing you before and then you actually get something clearly intended as a romantic gesture. You have to admit it’s pretty funny. I’m not laughing at the person, just the situation.”

“I know,” Dan said. “I just feel really bad about it.”

“Well, Romeo, I guess you’d better get used to it around here, at least. You seem to be building a fan club.”

“About that, what was your friend doing in Ms. Hunter’s class?”

“Paula? She’s in her class,” Katie said.

“Not Paula, your other friend, the gorgeous blonde.”

“Ooooh, gorgeous now, is she? Now I know your type,” she said, giggling again.

“I’m serious. I thought you said she’s not in that class and I did not see her last time.”

“And we both know you would have noticed her had she been there, since she’s your type and all,” she said, looking at him sideways.”

“Stop needling me and tell me why she was there already.”

“You’re just too easy to get riled up. She was just auditing the class because she knew you’d be there today from Paula and hoped she could see you teach again. So, did you disappoint my goooorgeous friend?”

“You’re impossible. And if you tell her I said she’s gorgeous I’ll . . .”

“What, spank me? Fire me? Pull my hair? Chase my boyfriends away?”

“No. I’ll just be hurt and very disappointed in you” Dan replied, dead serious. She had no snarky response to that, and just looked him in the eyes for a while, head slightly tilted to the right.

“You know what’s really funny, Katie? All kidding aside, I would have been walking on air ten years ago if I got any kind of attention from women.”

“Oh, poor you having to be all alone in your room crying into your pillow,” she snickered.

“I’m serious. In my late teens all the parents of the girls I was interested in fell in love with me—and even those of many of the girls I was markedly uninterested in, for that matter. The daughters all pretty much universally ignored me with very few exceptions involving impossible situations. Linda was one of the very few that was attracted to me and was not afraid to show it in very subtle ways. I hate to admit it but it’s one of the things that attracted me to her the most—her interest and genuine love for me—not being rejected.”

“That’s rather narcissistic of you” she said smiling.

“I’m serious. There have been to date a handful of women I’ve fallen head over heels in love with. Most of them with impossible situations involving distance, split loyalties, and other complications. It’s like I’m cursed in that way.”

“You must have been an ugly teenager,” she quipped, smiling.

“13-14 yeah, kind of. 15 and up, nope. I was in great shape—900 sit-ups every day, worked with free weights, could take a punch in my gut without feeling it, and did many times. Nothing like what I look like today.”

“Your fans sure seem to find you appealing enough,” she said, smiling wryly.

“My fans, as you call them, are doubtless involved in some silly game or competition as to who can catch my eye and make a fool out of me.”

“Don’t think so—I’d know that for a fact as I know two of the three players in that game pretty well.” She said that in a serious tone. “Can I ask you a personal question?” She then added in the same serious tone.

“Sure.”

“Why have you been with your girlfriend so many years without getting married?”

“I love Linda very much. But it’s complicated for reasons I won’t get into.”

“Did you guys ever break up?”

“Yeah, once, for more than a year.”

“Why? If you don’t mind telling me?”

“Because I fell in love with someone else.”

“You cheated? I find that hard to believe,” she said, looking at him sideways while wrinkling her nose at him.

“I did not cheat in the technical sense—nothing happened. Not even a kiss. I just had stronger feelings for someone else than Linda.”

“You fell out of love?”

“Not fell out of love, no--just fell in love with someone else. I always loved and will always love Linda, no matter what.”

“How can you be in love with two people at once?”

“I don’t know.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s a question you need to answer for yourself.”

“There are many levels and layers of love. I have always been a hopeless romantic, but I’ve never believed and don’t believe today that there is just one perfect person for everyone. There are MANY perfect or near-perfect people for everyone, just as there are MANY absurd pairings that will drive couples to drink, to drugs, or simply to a life of endless misery. I know for a fact that there are at least a half dozen women I have known with whom I could be blissfully happy—more compatible with me than Linda—and whom I believe I could have made very happy too, possibly much more so than Linda if we eventually marry which is almost inevitable.”

“Why inevitable?”

“Long, complicated story I am not willing to share. We love each other very much, are in love with each other and have been for a long time.”

“Then how come you fell in love with someone else?”

“What, you think I got enlightenment since the last two times you asked me the same question?”

“I’m serious, Dan.”

“Me too. I DO NOT KNOW.”

“So, what happens if you marry and then find someone else more perfect for you and you for her?”

“Nothing happens. I will marry for life. The oath matters to me, and not just because I’m Catholic.”

“So, you’ll grin and bear it and not stray or divorce or find a reason to simply run away?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know.”

“I know. And if you knew me better, you would know that too.”

“What happens if you fall in love with someone else before you marry Linda?”

“I won’t”

“What if?”

“I don’t know.”

“So, do you think you are ready to get married?”

“No.”

“Were you ready to get married before to someone else had things been different?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, as sure as I can be, though I’ll never know for sure.”

“Without so much as kissing her?”

“Yes.

“You have a problem, boss.”

“I know.”

Just then, to Dan’s great relief, someone knocked on the door.”

Katie opened the door and Ms. Hunter walked in, asking, “Is now a good time?”

“Perfect, Ms. Hunter. Please sit down.”

“I’m going to work in reception until 5:00 p.m. See you tomorrow, boss.”

“See you, Katie. And thanks for the free psychoanalysis,” he smiled ruefully.

“No prob. G’night.” And she was gone.