Sharing Karen

Chapter 1

"Honey? Can you come here for a minute?" Karen called out. "I need your opinion on something."

My wife, Karen, was perhaps the most caring, easy-going person I'd ever met and she also happened to be a pleaser. Her truest desire in life was very simple—to feel loved and cared for and in return, she'd do anything for the man who made her feel that way. She was not only pleasant and good natured; she was also a very pretty woman who was almost completely unaware of just how good looking she was. She'd been married before and although her first husband was himself a good-looking guy, he was verbally abusive and a serial cheater. Karen was every bit as attractive a woman as he was a man, but after 12 years with this guy, her self-esteem hit rock bottom.

I met her when I was a senior in college and working part-time as a barista at one of innumerable Starbucks in the downtown Seattle area. Karen worked as a receptionist for a family practice doctor across the street and she came in most days for a few minutes during her lunchbreak to have a cup of coffee. No lattes, no cappuccinos. Nothing fancy. Just a cup of plain black coffee. She'd usually sit there and sip from her cup while she read a book or leafed through a magazine. Occasionally, she'd just watch people walk by. She had what could best be described as a forlorn look in her eye which spoke of some deeper, hidden sadness I couldn't begin to understand.

It was impossible not to notice her. I couldn't be sure of her age, but my sense was she probably about 30. I had to admit plenty of cute girls and attractive women stopped by every day, and talking to them was one of the few perks of the job. But cute girls didn't do it for me. Karen did and in a big way. Most guys pay no attention to what a girl is wearing. All that matters is whether or not they can get into their pants. But I had a thing for a certain kind of look that might be strong enough to be called a fetish. Fetish or not, what a woman wore was very important to me. I needed a girl to be physically attractive to me and to also wear stuff I liked or I just didn't have much interest. And Karen almost always wore what I like. That, coupled with her obvious physical beauty is what attracted me to her so strongly. It got to where seeing her for those few minutes was the highlight of my day.

I had no reason to believe Karen might ever be interested in me. The age difference alone was likely enough to preclude even a first date, and from all appearances she had money—or at least a husband who did. If I may say, I felt like I was at least competitive in terms of looks. I mean, judging by the endless string of hookups I'd had with various cute co-eds, I had to believe girls considered me a pretty decent-looking guy in my own right. I took good care of myself and had been working out six days a week since my junior year in high school. I alternated between running and weight lifting Monday through Saturday, and although I didn't play sports in college, I had wrestled and played football in high school. Not to get too personal, but more than a few girls had told me my best features were what some called "girly" eyes, a perfect smile thanks to the 18 months I spent wearing braces in high school, and a full head of very thick black hair.

Working against me with a woman like Karen was the fact that I had no real job, no income, and I as I mentioned, my relative youth. Oh, and then there was that whole big-ass diamond ring on her left hand thing. So even if she did consider me attractive, that ring meant there was some guy who did have a good job and with whom she was almost certainly in love or at least put with to keep the money coming in. But there's no harm in dreaming, is there?

I made it a point to say something nice to her every time I took her order and whenever possible, I looked for some excuse to talk to her if only briefly. When she ordered her coffee I'd say something like, "You look very nice today" or perhaps, "I love your sweater. It's very pretty." She was always polite in return and never failed to smile and thank me. More than once she told me I was a real sweetheart. A sweetheart. Gee, that's just what every guy wants to hear from the girl he has a crush on. That's almost as awesome as being called a teddy bear.

When she finished her coffee, I was always right there hoping to get another opportunity to talk to her. I'd go over to her table, smile, and ask, "Can I get you anything else today?" or, "Can I take this for you?" Any reason to just say hello.

After a couple months of this, I finally got up the nerve and decided to ask her name. She'd just sat her cup down when I magically appeared as always and said, "Excuse me, ma'am. I was just wondering if you'd like another cup or if I might be able to take that for you." My plan was to follow up with something about how often I'd seen her there and see if perhaps she'd at least tell me her first name. But as they say, a plan is only good until the first shot is fired.

This time, she didn't smile. She just stared out the window and said quietly, "No, thank you. I don't think my husband would approve of me spending any more money on coffee today." She didn't even bother to look up.

I was so shocked at her comment I wasn't sure what else I could or even if I should say anything at all. I picked up her cup and started to walk away then stopped, turned around, and said, "It's really none of my business, but well...unless your husband is out of work, he's either a total ass, a fool, or both."

The spell Karen seemed to be under was momentarily broken. She turned abruptly from staring out the window and looked directly at me. I thought I was gonna get a dose of "mind your own business, coffee boy" when she smiled and said, "Your name is Cal, isn't it?" I decided against asking her if my name tag was her first clue as I was amazed to learn she'd even notice. "You're here pretty much every day it seems." She paused for a moment and then continued. "You're always so pleasant and friendly. I appreciate that very much. I'm Karen, by the way." That wasn't how I anticipated getting the information I wanted but I now at least knew her name.

"It's nice to meet you, Karen." I paused for a moment then said, "I don't know what I was thinking getting involved in your personal business like that. I'm really sorry. It's just that you're such a beautiful woman it's hard to imagine anyone not appreciating you and wanting you to give you everything you want. Any guy who's worried about the cost of a second cup of coffee doesn't deserve you."

Karen was staring at me to the point where I felt uncomfortable so I did the only thing I could think of and apologized again. Karen just kept staring at me and this time I was sure I was going to get it with both barrels. Instead, she began to tear up. She reached for her purse and grabbed a tissue to use to dry her eyes.

Now I felt like shit. I clearly didn't have a way with words so again, I just told her, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry. I was trying to..."

She half looked up as she was dabbing her eyes and said softly, "Will you please sit down? I know you're working, but if you could maybe just sit with me for a minute?"

After three years at the same store, I'd risen all the way to the lofty position of assistant manager so no one was there to tell me to get back to work. I looked over at the register and saw that Cherrie was taking orders so I said, "Yeah. Sure. I can do that." I pulled up a chair and asked, "Are you okay, Karen?"

Karen was still blinking away tears and trying to keep her mascara from running. "Yes. I'm fine. Or at least I will be." She placed the tissue on the saucer next to her and grabbed another. "I just wanted to say 'thank you' to you."

I had no idea why and Karen saw the puzzled look on my face. "I wanted to thank you for always being so kind and for always saying something nice to me. And I honestly can't remember the last anyone told me I'm beautiful." She sniffed and dabbed then said, "Even if you were just being nice to an older woman, it was really wonderful to hear. At my age, it's not a word people use to describe me anymore." Karen finished dabbing her eyes and said, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to drag you into this mess—my 'pity-party', if you will. I'm just so tired of feeling tired and being treated like a child and...being controlled and...wanting something...more." She stopped again as I sat there listening before saying, "And thank you for listening. What I wouldn't do to have a man in my life who listens to me and cares about what I think. You're really very nice, Cal. Thank you again."

I was dumbfounded. Being so young and having never been married, I didn't realize that beautiful women were often lonely and that beautiful married women often stayed in unhappy marriages for reasons that made no sense to an outsider. Not the least of those reasons were financial in nature and children could always play a significant role in deciding to stay in an unhappy relationship. That naïveté led me to blurt out, "Okay, I don't know your situation at home, but I just don't get it. You're easily the most attractive woman who comes in here and it doesn't make any sense to me that you could be so unhappy." I should've stopped there but just ploughed ahead. "If you were my wife, I'd do anything and everything every day to make sure you knew just how beautiful you are and how important you are to me. If your husband doesn't do that...well...then you should consider leaving because he doesn't deserve you. More importantly, Karen, you deserve better."

Karen began to tear up again. All I could manage to say was, "Oh, no. I did it again. I seem unable to say anything right today. I've made you cry twice and my only intent was to try and make you feel better." I stood up to leave then told her, "That's not completely true. I actually came over here hoping to work up the courage to ask you your name. Had I known I was going to cause you so much grief and pain, I'd have minded my own business."

Karen laughed softly then said to me, "You are so sweet." She looked down for a moment then managed a smile as she said, "And cute, too, by the way. And for the record, let me say again you're not the one making me cry. In fact, you've made me feel good again or at least feel something other than dead inside for the first time in a very long time. And well, you've also made me think. So for all that, let me again say thank you." Another pause, "And for the record, my husband is a senior executive with Microsoft and I have my own job. It's just that he's so controlling and so..." Karen stopped abruptly. "Go ahead. I'm keeping you from your job. You don't need to listen to some old woman prattle on about any of her personal problems. I'm the one who needs to apologize."

Nothing more was said that day but from then on I made it a point to try and chat with her briefly without fawning all over her. She always seemed genuinely glad to see, but our conversations were mostly limited to small talk and nothing more. Neither she nor I ever brought up the subject of her husband again.

Then one day, about a month after our first and only talk, I noticed something conspicuously absent from her left hand. The wedding ring was gone.

I didn't say anything about it for a week or so and then one day Karen surprised me when I went to bus her table. As I cleared her cup, she asked me if I had a few minutes to talk. I told her I could take my break a little early which I did. I sat down next to her and she said, "I wanted to both tell you something and then ask you something." She looked at me as if to seek my approval but I didn't speak. I just sat there in a way that let her know I was listening. She continued, "Our short talk a few weeks ago forced to me confront just how bad things had gotten in my marriage, and last week I finally worked up the courage to tell my husband I want a divorce. I won't bore you with the details but it got to the point where I felt like he not only took me for granted but that I was just a prop he could use at important business events. But the worst thing was his constant need to control every aspect of my life down to how much money I spent—even the money I earned from my own job. I'm not exactly young anymore but I realized I don't want to waste another year—another day—living with someone who makes me feel small and...worthless. You're not the cause of the breakup but your kind words gave me the courage to do what I should have done two or three years ago. So thank you." Karen paused then smiled at me. "I seem to spend a lot of time thanking you, don't I?"

I didn't answer. I decided to sit and listen them time rather than open my mouth and insert my size 10 foot.

Karen continued, "So that's what I wanted to tell you. Now I have something I'd like to ask you." Karen fidgeted a bit, looked away, and then back toward me. "I've had to work up my nerve to do this for a few days so please be nice if you don't want to. I won't be offended if you say no—I promise. You'll probably think I'm crazy for even asking but...well...maybe I am...crazy." She smiled then said, "We're having an office party this Saturday evening and I was wondering if maybe you'd like to...you know...go with me?"

Karen's face showed both concern and vulnerability. I wanted to kiss her so bad it was killing me. The look on my face probably caused her a lot of concern because as I started to answer, Karen stopped me and said, "Oh, my God. I am such an idiot! I've never asked a guy out before and that had to sound incredibly lame. An office party with a woman old enough to be your mother and..."

I reached out and took her hand and then interrupted her. "Karen?" I waited for her to look at me. "If you'll slow down and please take a breath, I'd like to respond, okay?" I waited for her to relax then said, "First of all, the answer is yes, I would love to go with you. Honestly? I would be honored to go anywhere with you anytime. And no, it did not sound lame in any way, shape, or form. In fact, it sounded pretty wonderful to me. And for the record, my mother is 45 years old and you're nowhere near her age and frankly, you don't look anything like my mother." I smiled at her and the way she smiled back at me caused the beginning of an old familiar stirring down south. I then added,

And I'm hoping your age is something you won't mention again because it means absolutely nothing to me."

Karen put her other hand on the two of ours that were already joined. "Really? You want to go with me?" Karen's eyes were dancing. She hesitated for a moment and said, "I know you said you don't care about my age but before you decide for sure I should warn you that while I'm not 45, I am...almost 32. I'm just guessing here, but something tells me you're still in college and as cute as you are, I really must be crazy to think a cute, young guy like you would want to go with a woman who's as old as...oops, sorry." Another pause. "So now that you know my age, are you sure you still want to go with me?"

I added my other hand to the mix and squeezed hers as I looked into her eyes. "I am still in college. Well, for the next three months, anyway. And yes, I am 100% sure I'd like to go with you. Oh, and just so you know, I'll be graduating in June and I have a pretty decent job lined up but until then, this is the only job I have and my only source of income. Truthfully, your age means nothing to me, Karen, but mine may be an issue for you and if it isn't, my lack of serious employment has to be. So the real issue here is are you sure you want to go out with a 22-year old who makes coffee for a living?"

I stopped talking when I noticed another tear forming in Karen's eye. She blinked it away and said, "It's interesting how we make assumptions about other people, isn't it? I'm worried about my...um, you know...that thing you don't want me to mention...and you're worried about not having enough money to impress me. Truthfully? When it comes to money, I've had more 'things' than any girl could ever want. That's how my soon-to-be- ex-husband...his name is Pete, by the way...tried to buy my love. With stuff. Expensive stuff. But then he'd turn around and blow up if I spent $10 on something just for me. So I've had money and status and things. What I haven't had is kindness. What I haven't had is a friend. What I haven't had is...love. I'd trade all of that stuff to be genuinely loved by someone who's kind and caring. Young or not, you have an older soul, Cal. You're kind and sweet and...you make me feel...happy and...well...young. So yes, I'd love to have you take me to the party...or anywhere for that matter."

It was very busy that afternoon but I felt like Karen and I were the only two people there. I rose up slightly and leaned over and kissed her softly. Karen's eyes closed as our lips met and I was immediately turned on by the feel of her soft, full lips on mine.

"I really have to get back to work, okay?" I said softly to her as we broke our first kiss.

"Of course," she whispered. "And...wow. That was very nice. Dare I say 'thank you' again?"

Chapter 2

I borrowed my mom's car so I could pick Karen up at her home. My parents had a decent home in Renton, a busy Seattle suburb, but Karen lived in Bellevue, one of the more upscale areas in the local region. Her home was worth at least several million dollars and it was by no means the nicest house in the neighborhood.

It was early April and the weather was still chilly with highs around 58 degrees. I wore blue sweater over a blue and white striped, button-down shirt and a pair of blue jeans and some Topsider shoes. Suddenly, I felt very underdressed as I approached the large, wrought-iron door at the front of her home.

I rang the doorbell and a few seconds later, Karen opened it to let me in. My sense of unease deepened when I saw what she was wearing. She had on a stunning winter-white dress made of linen with a matching cardigan sweater and three-inch heels of the same color. A pearl necklace and matching earrings completed her ensemble which nothing short of stunning.

"Hi, Cal! Please come in!" Karen said. "Wow! You look so handsome! I love your sweater."

"First, thank you for the compliment, but more importantly, you are the one who looks absolutely amazing. Secondly, I feel very out of place. I don't think jeans are..."

"Oh, stop! You look just fine! In fact, I love that look. Nothing looks better on a cute guy than pair of Levis so no worries, okay? It's me who's probably overdressed. I just wanted to look nice for you. I can easily change if you'd like," she offered.

"Are you kidding? Why would you change? That's a very nice dress and I really love the sweater with it. You look perfect. Trust me."

"You like sweaters a lot, don't you?" she asked. "They're my favorite. I have a ton of them and I wear them all the time. I just wanted to really dress up for you tonight. You're sure it isn't too much?"

I hesitated saying anything but decided to risk it. "It's funny you mentioned sweaters. I've definitely noticed you like to wear them and you look amazing in them, by the way. They're also my favorite look by far so yes, it would be fair to say I do indeed like them a lot."

I suddenly felt ridiculous for saying that when Karen said, "Then let me change for you. Please? I have the sweater for this cardigan and a skirt that's perfect for it. It'll only take a minute."

"No, no. Please don't do that just for me," I told her. "I love the dress and you look great. This is fine, really. It's more than fine."

Karen moved closer to me and put her arms around my neck. "Again...thank you. But I want to make the best possible first impression and now that I know what you like..." She pulled me close and kissed me the way I'd kissed her in the coffee shop. "I'm just so happy being with you, Cal. I've wanted to have someone to want to dress up for and to make happy for as long as I can remember, so doing something as simple as changing clothes is a no-brainer. I'll be right back, okay?"