To top it off, so she told me, the instructor was this gorgeous hunk of a Frenchman, named Marcel.Friday morning, over breakfast, she brought him up a...ain. That was unusual, and I started getting a slight twinge in my gut. “Should I be worried?” I asked her across the kitchen table.“About Yogi Marcel,” she asked, not realizing how silly she sounded. I couldn’t help but chuckle.“Yogi? Is he smarter than the average bear?” I fired back, sure that my wit would win me some Brownie points.“Huh?. ‘Please let me get dressed,’ I begged her. ‘There, there,’ she said, as if to a crying child. ‘You can’t get dressed, but we’ll join you, so you won’t be so self conscience.’ As I tried to figure this statement out, I was flabbergasted to see that Jo had removed her blouse and draped it across the back of the couch next to my robe. Jean started unbuttoning hers, as well. In the meantime, Jill had removed four rolls of white cotton surgical adhesive tape from her purse, handed them to Jan, then. More

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