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me. It was like having my own personal Mrs. Robinson. And she clearly had some built-up sexual frustration, because she fucked like a caged lion. I was in the prime of my sexual prowess and no slouch in the sack, but this lady literally screwed the living crap out of me.
    The next morning, I woke up early and dragged Ken out of bed. By the time the girls opened their bloodshot eyes, we were already dressed and heading for the door. Though Ken assumed that I was just planning a quick getaway, I had something far more devious in mind.
    “We want to treat you ladies to breakfast,” I announced.
    “Really?” they said. “That’s so sweet.”
    “We’re just going to run downstairs to get a table,” I said with a wink. “This hotel has a great restaurant.”
    I could feel Ken staring at me. I shot him a look, and he knew in an instant what I was plotting.
    “Oh, yeah, right,” he said, picking up my lead. “It’s right on the ground floor. Really good food. And I think there’s a convention in town.”
    “That’s right,” I said, somehow managing to hold a straight face.
    “A doctor’s convention or something.”
    Ken’s face was tightening, and I knew he was about to break. I jabbed him in the ribs.
    “Okay, see you there?” Ken said, fighting back the tears of laughter.
    We ran downstairs as fast as we could, dived behind the desk in Ken’s office, and waited for the fireworks.
    Ken glanced at his watch and frowned. “We’re running out of time,” he said. “Breakfast is almost over, and the children will be heading back to class.”
    I put a finger on his lips and pointed toward the stairs. “Here they come,” I whispered.
    Our two Borscht Bunnies, still wearing the same clothes from the night before, were making their grand entrance. Their makeup was smeared, they looked a little haggard from a long night of partying and fucking, but otherwise, they were none the worse for wear. We ducked behind the desk and listened as they called out our names, their high heels clicking as they wandered around the lobby. And then we heard them slowly walk toward the dining room.
    They probably expected to find a buffet waiting for them, or at least a friendly crowd of doctors, sipping mimosas while making idle chitchat.
    Instead, they were about to meet our students.
    I know it’s not politically correct, but I think mentally challenged children are adorable. They’re just so innocent and sweet, and so eager to please. They have such a curiosity about life, and it takes so little to make them happy. Every day is a new discovery for them. From the moment I started teaching at Crystal Run, I fell in love with each and every one of them.
    Of course, it probably isn’t nearly as cute if you’re a hungover and middle-aged woman, and you’re staying in what you think is a high-class hotel in the Catskills.
    When we heard the screams, we immediately jumped up from behind the desk and came running. Our dates were standing in the middle of the dining room, surrounded by a growing throng of mentally challenged kids. The moment they walked in, the children had leapt out of their seats and descended on them. They meant no harm, but they recognized that these ladies were new and they wanted more information.
    “Hi,” they said, tugging at the women’s sleeves. “Who are you?”
    “What’s your name?”
    “Are you our new teacher?”
    “You’re very pretty. Can I touch your hair?”
    The Borscht Bunnies were frozen in their tracks like deer in headlights. Their faces had gone pale, and, judging from the glossy look in their eyes, they were in shock. The children had them cornered and were advancing on them like zombies from Night of the Living Dead . They were pulling on their clothes, tugging at their hair, trying to hold their hands. The women had absolutely no idea what was happening, but they were fairly sure they didn’t like it.
    We watched them for a few minutes, just relishing in the beautiful awkwardness