"There you are, Sherry," he said, his voice deep and commanding. He nodded at me."Uncle Harry, have you met this remarkable young artist?" Sherry aske...."I have not," Harry said.Dr. Harry Crane was not only Sherry's uncle, he was also an art critic who wrote a weekly column for the Arizona Republic & Gazette. What's more, he was also a professor of art history at Arizona State University. Sherry didn't tell me all this when she introduced him. As soon as I heard his name, I recognized him. I. She had a willowy figure, with hips and breasts definitely there but understated. She was model material.Then there was Mary. Her figure was long gone. Butt, belly, breasts -- everything sagged and spread. Her ponytail showed a fair amount of gray. They had had Charlotte late, and now she was 53 -- same age as him. She’d been an enthusiastic lover when they first met. She came every time. Then it had been once a week or so, and then she’d gotten enthusiastic again in the years they were trying. More

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