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My Problem

By: Daiquiri Girl



Moving from Oklahoma to be with my widowed father was difficult. On the one hand I was unhappy to leave four close friends behind. On the other, because of my divorce it was not that difficult, particularly when I learned dozens of friends and acquaintances had known about Wyatt's affairs. What hurt even more was that one of those four friends not only knew but had helped her sister hide the affair from Tammy's husband. 

The fourteen months after first moving to Oak Hill were filled with loneliness. Beyond a few friends at the office I had no local friends. Between caring for my father and his house and my travels to the field I had little social life. Living with my father had its difficulties and tensions. Our heated disagreements sometimes left me wondering if I did the right thing moving into his home. Yet on many more days I knew he needed help otherwise he would hardly eat well or keep his house clean.

Both voracious readers, Kara and I met at a local book signing. Kara attracted my attention as she was wearing a Sooner Rose Bowl shirt. I introduced myself as my Masters is from OU. She laughed that she had not attended OU but became an OU fan when her and her husband attached themselves to Sooner fans at the Rose Bowl. The warmth and welcoming spirit of the OU fans impressed her. After the reading we moved to the coffee shop. 

That Saturday afternoon I had learned Kara and Tim relocated from Illinois eleven months before I moved from Oklahoma. My heart went out to her when I learned she has uterine cancer. That Saturday was her second outing since undergoing a hysterectomy. I guess I connected with Kara as my mother died with the same cancer in 1989. 

She learned following my father's hip surgery in May 2002 I relocated to make sure he was keeping himself right. We were two lonely women who befriended each other. 

Over the following months Kara and I became fast friends and sharing closely held personal information and anguishes. It was a relief to have a local confidant. She helped me work through my frustration with my father's stubbornness and unwillingness to take early retirement from his banking position. Her wisdom surpasses her years.

She cried with me when I told her about Wyatt's cheating, his uncaring attitude, and my bitterness toward men in general. In 2002 Kara discovered her husband was having an affair. She thought she would leave him, but did not give up on him and their marriage. Tim quietly suffered her anger and her kicking him out of the bedroom. Though the affair ended, their relationship remained tense for months but was slowly rebuilt. Though Tim held full responsibility for the affair, Kara felt she needed to accept some blame. She created the ground for the affair as their sex life had dwindled due to her lack of interest and the discomforts she had dismissed. She bemoaned dismissing the early signals of cancer as just life changes. 

One evening I expressed my unending frustrations to get my father out of the house and his lack of interest in dating. He needed someone other than me in his life and to love. Kara just laughed, "that's a hoot Ann. You two are so alike." She was right. I was just not ready to date. I distrusted men. I eased up on my father.

Early last year my father suffered a massive cardiac arrest. I saw my mother's death coming, but not my father's. Kara and Tim were my comfort and encouragement. Seeing I was in an immobilized state, Tim directed the funeral details. He worked with my brother in Missouri on arrangements. As the months passed Tim helped Ben and me find our father's last will and move it to probate. Though Kara and Tim said that they would help me go through my father's personal belongings, Tim did the work as Kara was increasingly becoming fatigued.  

I was shaken the Saturday afternoon before Memorial Day when I learned cancer had been detected in Kara's intestines. We cried together as this was far from good news. When Kara fell asleep I found Tim on their deck. He looked like he had not had a good night's sleep in days. He lamented that the mother of his two children and wife was slowly dying. With a wine glass in his hand he mumbled several times he failed Kara terribly; that he has was a terrible husband and was loosing his love before he could do better for her. I assured him Kara thought no such thing. He said I just did not understand. I understood her feelings more than he knew.

Though tempted to tell him that Kara had long forgiven him I remained silent. Such an assurance could only come from her. I could not tell him that Kara understood his libido was as high as ever and she understood why he went looking elsewhere for satisfaction. 

I did not tell him that Kara often told me that marrying him was one of her best decisions. They both passionately loved each other but had been not been adequately communicating their feelings and fears.

When the doctors provided Kara with revised treatment options this past summer she kept asking how will they alter the prognosis and how much time would it likely add to her life. About an extra six months to a year, maybe eighteen months. Kara took herself off most treatments except those that diminished pain or that helped her to sleep. I greatly admire her decision to live and die with dignity. 

Kara's energy level continued to decrease month by month. Just before Labor Day I was dispatched to the Gulf Coast to assist in company's damage assessment and restoration effort. Returning October 20th I really noticed Kara had lost about another 11 lbs during the period and her eyes were looking a little gaunt. Her decline was not as great as I would have thought, but she was still declining. 

Tim's depression continued to increase through to Christmas. His brave front for their two children was thin. Inside he was anything but a tower of confidence and courage. I noticed a higher number of dirty glasses in the sink or dishwasher. I suspected Tim was drinking more than he would admit to forget his pains. 

I frequently stayed with Kara when Tim had to be on the road I often stayed with Kara. Due to her health he spent fewer overnights on the road than before, but all trips could not be left to others. In early November when Tim was on a three night trip to Pittsburgh I called to give him an update. While we talked for close to twenty minutes hour about nothing in particular, I noticed his words were slurred and he rambled.

On November 19th Tim took me to a nice restaurant. He did this periodically as his way of thanking me. Over dinner he had two drinks, likely one or two before as well. As we finished he again made reference to his failure. I told him enough of his cryptic language, tell me or stop it. Acquiescing he outlined the affair. He noted that he still had feelings for this other woman. 

In the summer he asked if I thought it was possible for a woman or man to truly love more than one person deeply and truly. We discussed it again in September. He said it was theoretical, but I suspected it was not. I agreed it was possible and gave him my rationale. I think polygamist societies have demonstrated loving more than one spouse is possible. Yet our culture and laws have structures that make us believe such multiple loves cannot happen, and make us feel guilty if it does happen. 

Driving home I thought Tim was in a most sorry and sorrowful state. He loved two women, one dying and the relationship with the other had long ended. It was ironic; I was on the opposite, had no one to love and was not thinking about it.

A week before Christmas found me in Springfield visiting my brother Ben and his family. I had driven Dad's car out so that it could become Ben's eldest daughter's when she turned 16 this April. 

I could see in how Ben and Pat interacted that they loved each other deeply. They were unaware how their little touches, their little looks and comments proclaimed their love. Ben still opened the doors for Pat and held her hand as they walked along. Wyatt was like this even during the honeymoon. For Wyatt I was a sex partner, a bed warmer, a housekeeper, someone to look good on his arm at his Chamber of Commerce socials and eye candy on his television commercials. When I discovered two months after our sixth anniversary that he had been cheating on me repeatedly I was in shock. Though we had just months before decided to have a baby, fortunately we had not had any children to complicate the divorce. 

When my shell of a marriage ended I started receiving a call or two a week inviting me out for dinner. Most of the invitations were men who just wanted to bed me. What disgusted me were the passes made by married men, including two from friends of Wyatt's. I was a piece of ass back on the market. They incorrectly assume a woman craves a cock and is willing to jump into bed to satisfy the craving. They are wrong about women. They are certainly wrong about me. I distrusted men as a result.

Seeing Ben's love for Pat reminded me what I should have expected from a husband and my long repressed dreams. On the evening of the 23rd I awoke to sounds of moaning with Ben and Pat being intimate. I looked at the clock, it was after 11:20. My mind recalled being in Galveston on spring break with a former college boyfriend, and my honeymoon in Wyoming. I missed the feeling of being pleasured. My boobs longed to be touched and suckled. By the final cry of release uttered minutes before midnight, tears filled my eyes. I heard them again Christmas and the night before I flew home. I envied Pat.  

I flew home on an early Saturday afternoon flight and retrieved Daiquiri my cat from the neighbors. Entering my home at 8:50 I was overwhelmed. It was New Years Eve and I was alone for New Years Eve for the first time in my life. I hated the feeling. As I consumed a bottle of Chardonnay and cheese I took stock of my life. I need a man to love and who would love me tenderly. I needed a man who was not like Wyatt and his friends. My scientific nature told me to be methodical, not rush it and to lay out in my mind what characteristics I sought in a man.

Two nagging thoughts haunted me as the magic moment of transitioning from one year to another approached. I know such a man, a man who was more like my father and brother in many ways. And he matched many of what was on my mind's list. I had some affection for him. He comforts, affirms and encourages. He makes me feel good about myself. We had similar broad interests. He hates city life and prefers small towns just like me. Yet, I was disturbed by my thoughts. He is married. I would rather remain single than go down that road with Tim.

Mid afternoon New Years day Kara invited me over. The house was quiet. Their eldest child had moved back to Illinois last summer. Their youngest son was out and Tim was upstairs on the computer while Kara and I chatted about our dreams. I told her about the drive to Springfield and being alone last night, except for the thoughts about Tim. 

Noticing Tim's third trip to the kitchen, Kara commented that his drinking was becoming a concern. Later I helped Kara bathe and get ready for bed. I was again struck by how much weight she has lost since we first met. Yet, I was pleased that she had gained 8lbs since Thanksgiving. 

I found Tim in the den just before 10. I noticed his eyes were moist and soon I was comforting him. Between tears he cried he harmed two women he loved. He told me his love stories from beginning to end in greater detail than ever before. He recalled his life with Kara, their first dates, honeymoon in Niagara Falls and other special moments. He said that though he loved Kara, but the lack of physical intimacy frustrated him that he wondered. I listened quietly about his IMing Rene and how that led to his being unfaithful. He described how his feelings for Rene grew and their trip to St. Louis. I knew how he loved this other woman.

Though they had not seen each other for three years, Tim still had warm feelings for her. When he said "I thought Rene loved me too" I noticed that past tense. Using a counseling skill my mother taught me I replied, "you thought". Tim wondered if he could pick-up again the relationship with Rene. So just before Christmas in somewhat of an intoxicated state he drafted a sad tale to email Rene. He wanted to move her heart but instead changed his mind. Instead he sent an email about what was really happening. Later he sent a second email confessing to her that he almost deceived her. His heart could not allow him to do it or to keep from her what he almost did. Though I could understand why he did it, I thought privately it was fool for sending an email confession. Revealing private struggles and thoughts is not always the best, but likely the alcohol hindered his better judgment.

Rene's reply hinted that she would take a few days to sort through her thoughts but he should expect a warm email around Christmas. With no word by New Years Tim realized his desires in that direction were all but dead. His heart was grieving.

In his somewhat intoxicated state I think Tim went into greater detail than necessary as we sat on the large sofa. He even described some of what they did. It was if he was trying to shock me. Though some things were kinky, I did not condemn and reject him. I have wondered what it would be like to go to a club too so I cannot judge him. 

It was enlightening for me. Tim views sex as an emotional and cerebral connection as much as a physical one. I was impressed. He was not like Wyatt who cared little about the feelings of others. In my arms was a man who felt great pain because he loved deeply. Yes he is a cheater. I understood why. He was in a most unfortunate position. That night I became more aware of how my feelings for him were growing. I wished I could just hold him to by bosom and comfort the pains away. 

Exhausted and emotionally drained Tim started to fall asleep with his head on my lap as my hand ran through his hair. It was then I quietly told him loves freely, deeply and passionately. Also I whispered that he had put the cart before the horse and lost. Yet, they are problems worth having then not loving at all. He moaned, "what am I going to do?" 

In the quiet my mind started to wonder here and there as Tim fell asleep. Thoughts of Ben and Pat, the loneliness felt the prior, the feelings of compassion and concern felt as I listened to Tim all played in my mind. I pulled sofa blanket over us as I found sleep coming upon me as well. Having him now cuddled with me on the large sofa felt good, damn good. I sighed while whispering to myself, "Katherine, what are you going to do? You are falling in love with this guy."

Around 4:30 I was stirred by the sound of someone in the kitchen. I found myself laying beside Tim with the blanket from the spare bedroom over us. While my heart was comforted by being able to just hold a man, and though the blanket should have disturbed me, being in a semi-slumber state I slipped back into dreamland. 

In the morning I awoke hearing the flush of a toilet upstairs and the sound of creaking boards. I stirred and went to the washroom myself. Emerging from the downstairs washroom I saw Kara making coffee. Looking at me as I came into the kitchen she said, "we need to talk, but not here." 

With some dread I showered and practiced carefully chosen phrases like, "you are my friend, I would never do anything to harm you." Also, "Tim cried and cried last night how much he loves you. He fell asleep on my lap and I fell asleep later," and "yes, I think I have feelings for him, but my respect for you and him and your marriage is greater by far." 

Within the hour, with me dressed in one of Kara's sweet shirts we were in the IHOP parking lot. At least the borrowed sweet shirt and shower kept me from looking like a sewer rat. Taking my hand to keep me in my Miata Kara told me that her husband is going to need someone to love and care for him when I am gone. She left me speechless when she then said I had her blessing and that we would do well together. 

This was not a development I anticipated. I was trying to process her statement. She reading too much into what she saw on the sofa I replied.

She shook her head, that was not what she was talking about. She has seen how we look at each other and feels we need each other. She argued he is a good man and would be a fool not to love me and take me as his wife. Looking into her face I saw tears running down her cheeks. Mine started flowing. Across the small console we hugged. It was then that I realized she was doing a most loving act, thinking about her husband's happiness and joy beyond the length of her life.

We spent the next 10 minutes trying to get out our tears to end. I was pleased that neither of us had fixed our faces. Over breakfast I admitted having feelings for Tim but I would never act on them. I was not sure that they were romantic feelings or feelings that would be a basis for marriage. I also laughed that Tim would likely look elsewhere. Kara shook her head and told me he loves quickly and his generous heart could easy be captured by me. She went on to say her husband likely was not aware of his feelings for me.

Over breakfast we continued talked about Tim. She asked for three things, that we not do anything before she dies unless she clearly permits it. If something did develop, that we keep it from her, not do anything in her home, and be very discrete. I assured her I would honor their marriage if something were to develop. 

Lastly, before I go further that I should be aware of Tim's sexual desires and fantasies. She cautioned me to not get close to him unless I could understand his interests. She promised to email sites as she did not want to talk about them in public. Returning to more safe topics for a restaurant I promised I would keep an open mind. At the same time I was not sure about all this.

That afternoon I received an email containing links to sites she had drawn from Tim's laptop. What I saw did not surprise or shock me. Some were pic and story sites. As I surfed around I wondered whether he was interested in all this stuff or just sections. Which pictures and stories did he download and look at would be more revealing. 

Until then I looked at some pictures and read many stories. Some stories were crude, raunchy and revolting. Was Tim a pervert or was he interested in the milder stuff? Others were clearly unrealistic fantasies. Yet I found myself admitting that many stories were nicely written with well developed story lines. I found myself enjoying the more developed stories about couples. I liked issues that dealt with the heart and personal struggles rather than those just reporting sex acts. The stories reminded me of what my heart earned, loving intimacy and a life partner to please and be pleased by, a husband with whom to explore my sexuality and to satisfy me. I found myself thinking I could see myself writing stories if I had a story to tell. I could also see sharing stories with my husband.

Recognizing the potential hold Rene held on Tim I knew that demon needed to be put to rest and out of his mind if I was to have any relationship with him. I could not deal with the possibility of her being in the background undermining our relationship. And for his peace of mind the hope and ability to connecting with anyone, whether me or someone else, the hope of Rene had to be removed. The possibility of him emailing her or her him could only complicate his future. I needed to find a way to talk to him about her. 

January 6th, having to move some furniture provided me the opportunity to get Tim over to the house that night. It gave me the opportunity to raise a question or two about Rene. Our conversation was awkward at first until I put him at ease that what he shared about Rene would remain with me. Assuring him that I would not condemn him for what he did or for how he felt for Rene further put him at ease. I stopped short of saying I would not share any of this with Kara. He did not ask. I did not offer privacy.


My Problem Ch. 02



My problem of the heart expressed itself in several forms. Falling in love with a married man is troublesome enough. That Kara, Tim's wife, is a good friend complicates my problem. My mother taught me nice girls ran from married men. Yet Kara is slowly dying with cancer. Surprisingly she gave me her blessing and encouragement. 

If I only have to wait in the wings with her blessing, what is the problem? Tim's sexual interests and desires were beyond mine. Tim's fantasies and curiosities involved sexual banter and teasing, wife sharing and swinging. When I graduated from college I left the wilder life behind. Could I be the woman Tim would seek in a new wife?

Rene, a woman with whom Tim had an affair in 2002 is the biggest problem. He still has feelings for her. Fortunately, she lived two hours away and was married. Tim gave me his password so that I could change the password. Figuring he would not be hearing from her I promised before killing it I would check for about ten days for any messages. Regretfully, killing the account on the designated day did not happen. Rene sent an email the day before I remembered to kill the email address.

If I killed the address that Friday Rene's email would have unknowingly died and my conscious would be clear. My first thought was that ignoring it would be a dishonest. Yet, telling Tim could make me the instrument for rekindling of an affair. How could I look Kara in the eye? Also, the possibility failing to attract Ken's interest and affection would increase.

Days later, using the catharsis document I decided to tell Kara about the emails. Surprisingly Kara showed no anger. Though she smiled while reading the draft her eyes were sad by the end. With a shaking voice she asked me to do nothing for three weeks. Recognizing I was at a major turning point in my life, I promised to wait. Saying that Rene should know brought a strong frowned to her face. 

On the Wednesday Kara asked if I wanted to go to a hockey game Friday evening. She secured tickets as Tim's team was in town. I agreed. Later that evening, curiosity to learn the views of others I decided to post the earlier document.

After getting my ticket at Will Call I was surprised to find only Ken. He was just as surprised to see me. Seeing Kara's hand at work I smiled. Sitting seven rows up from the blue line, I enjoyed the action and Tim's company. The only negative was that Tim's team lost. 

After the game, we enjoyed after game drinks and snacks at a nearby restaurant. Our conversation was stilted because we kept looking into each other's eyes and smiling. As I took mass transit to the game, Tim offered to take me home as his car was at his office. Telling him I did not feel safe walking the streets after midnight I put my arm through his arm. 

When we pulled into the driveway I asked him if he wanted to come in for a drink. The desire to have him in my bed, to hold him and be intimate filled me. The moment I uttered the invitation I felt as if I was breaking my word to Kara. I did not want to become "the other woman" in Kara's mind.

My heart sank when Tim said it was late. I wondered if Tim was clueless. Before I got out, touching his hand and looking into his eyes I asked if he was sure. A subtle smile came across his lips and his eyes gleamed as he told me he would love to but could not do so yet. He did want to know me as a person before we did anything. I floated into the house and fell asleep happier than I had been for years.

The next morning I awoke to a ringing phone. I told her I enjoyed the evening so much I forgot that my car was parked at the Metro station. 

Sunday, with Tim and her son watching the Super Bowl on a large screen at a home a friend, I followed her to her place after she helped me to get my car. She frowned at Ken that Ken refused me Friday. I was perplexed. She told me that with Tim emailing Rene, the earlier promise is voided. She asked that we be discrete. 

I admitted to having growing fantasies along the line of Tim's. They were playing off some of my wilder college days. Yet living them out in a marriage is another matter. Privately I fear if I did them that for Tim it could be a short-term phase but it would something I would want to continue. Also, "good girls" did not do such things.

Kara said she wanted me to withhold Rene's email from Tim and not respond to her. I understood her furry toward Rene. Her pain ran deep for Tim not only is her husband but he had been her best friend. The affair damaged her friendship and marriage. When she needed a best friend for support she couldn't turn to him because he was the offending party. And then when her illness became known, she still lacked her best friend. I understood why she quickly opened up to me and why we became the best of friends.

I never viewed Wyatt as a good friend let alone a best friend, and that may have been part of our problem. Kara wanting this other woman to suffer with no returned messages was understood. 

After unflattering words, she calmed and admitted she overreacted. Kara went on to tell me that there is a difference between Rene and myself. The other woman was a threat to her and I was not. I felt a little insulted by her comment. She viewed Rene as her competition and as causing her grief and not me. I had a small shiver when I wondered how she would react if she saw time being affectionate toward me. Would she turn on me? 

I am not sure I could agree in her distinction. Her sense of betrayal colored her views and arguing with her would be futile. Yet I told her in no uncertain terms that Rene should know. She sighed, walked in an agitated manner over to the window and looked out to the street.

A minute of silence seemed to be five. Turning with hands thrown into the air in a tone of frustration cried, "I don't give a damn. Kate it is your decision, not mine. Do what you want. I just do not want to know." 

My confusion showing she cried she could be dead in 6 months or 24 months. She asked me pointed questions. Could I live with Tim being with the another woman? How would I handle if I knew he took her on his New York or to Atlanta trips or met her for a night? Could I accept that or would it eat at me? She suspected I would be jealous and hurt. Am I willing to take the risk?" 

Her questions continued to play in my mind for days. Jealous is a powerful emotion that could destroy us. Why risk it I asked myself. I would have jealousy, but why and to what degree? My mother use to say that when it comes to affairs of the heart, logic goes out the window as emotions drive us in illogical directions. Was he my man in my mind? No. Yet I had come to the view that he could be my man one day. 

If he met up with her and their relationship blooms, then my relationship with Tim is on quick sand. I reasoned it should be tested and if necessary end before I invested more of my feelings in the relationship. I concluded over the subsequent days that Rene was the test. If I had strong negative feelings about him being with Rene then I should think twice about taking the relationship further. If I could live with him being with Rene, then just maybe we could live out our common fantasies without damaging our relationship. Also determined at that moment I did not want to meet her or know much about her. As long as she was in the nebulous out there then I felt safer. 

On February 11th mid afternoon as snow started to fall Kara dropped by on her way home from a bookstore. After a half hour Kara asked if I still planned on telling Tim and emailing Rene.

I told Kara I was uncertain about Tim but definitely Rene would receive an email and a link to part one. While arguing with her I have never seen Kara that angry. Yes I knew some of mood swings had been excused as side affects of the medication, but her response was not worthy of her. While not giving rationale, one commenter to part one warned about getting involved with the husband of a best friend. In Kara's reaction I now saw rationale. 

Many of the feedbacks provided insights and ideas to consider. A handful of responders noted that I should just leave Rene hanging as that is what would have happened if I severed the account on the Friday. Others encouraged me to be honest with Tim, to honestly share my feelings, tell him of Rene's email and just see where things fall. One person rightly noted that if Tim had growing feelings for me his heart would guide him. 

Apologizing for her reaction Kara asked to read Rene's email and said she understood why I intended to send an email. Looking over my shoulder she commented that Rene threatened him. Tim foolishly and voluntarily confessed his deceptive thoughts. Rather than thanking Tim for his confession and honesty Rene expressed strong disappointment and clearly was angry that he even thought of deceiving her. Kara suggested that there was an implied a threat behind her statement that he better even think of being dishonest with her. 

I agreed that such a message could be viewed that way but that may was not likely her intent. Kara's voice quickened and she asked why I did not see that this other woman was a controller. To give her a chance to calm down I offered to refresh our coffees. 

Returning I found Kara typing. Looking over her shoulder and I cried out in shock. She writing a vindictive email. Taking the mouse I closed the message window. Then I noticed she had deleted all the messages from Rene. My face was flush with heat as she received a piece of my mind and then some.

I value her friendship, but I had enough of the swings in her emotions and contradictory comments. She was like another woman when we talked about anything related to Tim's affair. She said she forgives him but then at other moments I really wonder. Alarm crossed her face as I told her I was not going to get involved with him. I was getting too drawn into her private matters and I did not want to be a victim of her rage. I lost it more when said I would be good for Tim and she thought I had fallen in love with Tim. 

In a raised voice I said something like, "shut your fucking mouth. I may have feelings for him but I there is no way I am not going to get involved in the middle of your mess. You send too many contracting messages. You encourage me to care but I do not trust you. You had no right to write those things. I fear you are going to turn on me. I would be a fucking fool to invest my heart and future in him. You have venom in your heart. I think you are playing games with my life and his."

For over ten minutes I went berated her and defended Tim. Every effort she made to speak I squashed. I told her that them being still married spoke more positively about Tim's character than hers. She had been sending conflicting messages to him and I felt very sorry for him. He returns kindness and love when she is unkind to him. He worries about her to the extent that he started drinking to escape the pain of loosing her. I told her in no uncertain terms that she is playing with his heart. He has loved her unconditionally and she uses guilt to control him. She says marrying him was one of the best things she has done but then there are moments she treats him as if he was a dog. Yet he takes it quietly.

She is starting to do the same to me and while he may have to take it, I do not need to participate in her game. The question is not why Kara should have taken him back but why is he continue to be with her? I regret saying that I am amazed that he has not divorced her. Seeing the pain on her face I knew I had gone too far but I still continued. I finished by saying I wonder if his romantic heart and willingness to get close to any woman would survive. I finished by yelling "and you have the gall to want me to get serious with him? You need to get a life if you think I am going to be a part of your game!"

When I stopped my ranting she tried to explain. I did not want to hear it and told her to her coat and get out. I did not want to risk having her stuck in my home because of the snow. I did not want to hear self-justification or unjustified venom. With tears flowing she slinked out the door.

I was livid with Kara. Calming down by mid evening I feared I may have lost a best friend. Then I reminded myself I had become too involved in a domestic struggle. Though most of it needed to be said I was too hard on Kara. Yet I continued to remain blue and was troubled by the depth of my anger. That night my comforting friend was the Kleenex box. I could not do much. I tried to answer some emails. Even doing emails took much much longer than normal. I responded back to one woman who had laudable comments. As she invited me to email her if I wanted further thoughts I decided to do so. I was reaching out to someone for comfort. Unfortunately the email to her hotmail address bounced back leaving me again with a sense of loneliness.

At 11:00 I was crying myself asleep. I cried not because of what I said to Kara but because I felt like a warmth in my heart was about to go out. Not until doing this reflection Sunday morning did I realize how much hope and desires I had placed in Tim. Walking away was painful, far more painful than divorcing Wyatt. Though my heart was going on direction, Mom was right, run away from married men.

More to come, that Sunday night and getting off the roller coaster. 




My Problem Ch. 03



Over coffee Sunday morning I knew my problem was eliminated when I yelled at Kara. The tension was gone yet I sighed as my eyes remained focused upon the same black mark on the way. The price was my valued friendship with Kara. Before a raging fire in den I curled up on the sofa. Tears welled up. Much of what was said needed to be said, but said differently at a different time. Rarely my anger controls me. Regretfully at that moment I lost control. Why I went off still haunts my spirit. 

The pained look upon Kara's face rightly continued to cut me to the core. I felt more alone than I have ever felt in my life. Daiquiri purring on my lap was my sole comfort. The loneliness, alienation was my just punishment. The "if only" thoughts were haunting. If only I had not befriended Kara. If only I had remained detached. Why did I allow myself to care for Kara and Tim? If only I had refused to be enticed by Kara's offer. 

I resisted the temptation to apologize to Kara to apologize by reminding myself I needed to have for fortitude or I would become too involved again. I had become too enmeshed in their marital life and Kara's game. Cold detached distance was the order of the day. 

Another temptation I resisted was to email Rene. Kara had deleted all recent and all early correspondence. But she had deleted some fourteen pages of junk mail. It was clear Tim had also been using the email address for registrations. There within a long list was a message from 2004. I smiled with satisfaction and started typing, "Rene, you do know me. I am Kate. You have not heard from Tim because at his request I took control of this address. Here is a link to a story as to why. I am out of the picture and advise you to stay clear too. If you want to email him, Tim's address is ...." Then my better nature overcame my baser nature. I was sending it in anger. This was not like me. I hit delete and felt at peace. And I was not sure I would ever email Rene. She is dead in his mind and heart, and should remain in the grave.

I continued to be melancholy. Kara is truly a good woman. She is intelligent and thoughtful. She is very passionate about her family and friends. We shared so much and provided each other volumes of support. 

I had also become good friends with Tim. He served as my quiet rock standing in the background. He was invaluable in settling matters with my father's estate. As I grieved he listened patiently to my stories. When I was frustrated with co-workers he listened and his insights help were invaluable. He reminded me of my grandfather in Missouri which may be one of the reasons I liked him so much. 

I reminded myself to forget Tim. I had walked away yesterday. "There are many other single men out there" became my mantra. If I kept my eyes open and allowed enough time I could to find a man who would stir both my heart and mind. Ben and Pat reminded me I needed someone to love and cherish me.  

Shy of 4 that afternoon the telephone rang. Tim asked if his wife visited me the Saturday. Kara was moody but she was not giving him an explanation other than mumbling. He apologized when I mentioned we spoke. He regretted for giving me an inappropriate glance that had been seen by his wife Thursday night. He was sorry for creating tension between Kara and me. He vowed he would be more careful and limit his contact with me. He would do what he could to heal our friendship.

Cutting him off I assured him the difference between Kara and I had nothing to do with him. I told him his wife was not angry about anything said or did toward me. He replied he was not sure. Trust had been lost and she now was seeing innocent things in a negative light. He said he will seek his wife's forgiveness. When I hung up I collapsed upon my bed weeping. If only I had turned Kara's suggestion down flat I would have no heart ache.

An hour later having difficulty concentrating on reading Angelo's First Families I headed to a local lounge. I needed a different set of walls to upon which to stare and different sounds to file my ears. Being around others without being with them would help. Unfortunately within 15-minutes I was hit upon by a twenty-something man and moments later another offered me a drink. I refused both.

I continued feeling sorry for myself. Twenty another minutes later a late forties/early fifties man offered me company. I glared at him. He kept trying to strike up a conversation even though I was not responding. Watching the Olympics while consuming my second daiquiri the man just kept trying to hit on me. Finally I moved to another stool while I muttering, "men, all they want to is a fuck." 

Almost immediately a mid forty-something woman sat on the stool beside me. Taking my hand and leaning over she whispered, "do you want men to stop hitting on you?" I nodded. She whispered she could stop it all. Again I nodded. "When I come back from the washroom I will kiss you on the cheek then we will move to a booth. That should end it and we will protect each other" she said.

Before collecting my thoughts she was gone. Suddenly it dawned on me that her plan was to make it look as if we were lovers. Was this a harmless ploy or part of a greater design? 

Finishing my drink I recalled the words of one email to part one. The woman noticed that in part one I expressed a desire to taste sex with a woman. It was not intended. My mind wondered if she was right. Maybe she detected a subconscious desire seeking fulfillment. My mind was awash with those thoughts when I felt a hand take mine. 

Lifting my eyes while turning my head, I felt feminine lips kiss my cheek. Speaking loud enough for several men to hear she said she had missed me. Wendy quietly introduced herself as we walked hand in hand toward a booth. Wendy explained that she had flown in earlier that afternoon from Indianapolis. Rather than having her husband risk driving in from Charles Town to pick her up she was spending the night at the motel across the street. The plan was for him to pick her up from the motel at 6:00 and for her to take him to his office. 

Nancy and I shared several drinks together while talking about why men hit on any women they see available in a lounge. I groaned there seemed to be a dozen or so stranded men in the lounge seeking female comfort. She nodded and said that is why she has continued to touch my hand and arm. We laughed at each other's stories of how women are different from men. Responding to her sympathetic spirit and touches she drew from me why I was sitting alone at a bar. Her understanding and pithy comments lifted my spirit. I was no longer thinking about my problems. I was starting to feel good again. Three hours and five drinks passed quickly. 

I was laughing at her story about her husband's fragile ego when she blurted that her husband treats her sometimes as if she was just a piece of property. I agreed many men see women that way. She laughed that it was sometimes nice to be used completely by a man and to be out of control for a night. I was unsure how to respond and remained silent. "Speaking of property, two men by the bar look as if they are about to head our way. I am in no mood to be property tonight." Before I could turn, her free hand moved to my chin. Looking me in the eyes she quietly whispered, "this will keep them away." To my amazement she leaned forward and kissed me on my lips. Though the kiss lasted only two or three seconds my pounding heart and confusion made it seem much longer. My mouth did not part, but her tongue running across my lower lip hinted of more to be offered. When she drew back she whimpered "wow, I did not expect such a reaction." I did not know if she was referring to her own reaction or me. 

Before long we left our partly finished drinks behind and I was walking to her motel room. My gate was erratic. I was tipsy, tipsy from too many drinks. And tipsy from my pounding heart and light headedness. The experience of kissing a woman and her gentle touches did not help either.

I will not get into the details as such a description is not the intention of my reflection. That evening I was soothingly and willingly seduced. Her touches and kisses were much unlike a man's. She took the pleasuring initiative in introducing me to female lovemaking. My body responded. My heart danced and my body swooned at the pleasure being experienced. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the moment.

Far too long I denied myself sexual release and pleasure. Overhearing Ben and Pat making love helped flame my desires. And that desire was tapped by Nancy. As she did so I recalled various erotic romantic stories. The thrill of living one out drove me to greater heights. I knew I would not close off my sexual desires. Tim denied this opportunity a week ago to be my lover. Now a woman out of nowhere was drawing my sex life out of hibernation. All these thoughts flowed back and forth in my mind as she drew me up climax mountain with her mouth and tongue upon my womanhood. 

Words fail to describe how it felt to suckling her breasts. It was both erotic and comforting. Having my hand guided upon another woman's sex and playing with the crux of the source of life was not offensive. Admittedly it as enjoyable as playing with a man's hardness, but the memory of it energized me. 

She sensed I was not ready to return the oral pleasure. She was content to allow my fingers to become moist with her womanly essence and to use them to draw forth her moaning releasing. Though controlling the release of a woman was different than a man's, I felt as equally satisfied. Maybe it was the newness and the difference of it all. There was a look of passion and urging in her eyes as she slowly moved toward that moment when a woman's spirit is overwhelmed and seems to become detached from her body. 

For the first time since leaving Wyatt I slept cuddled in a bed against another person. The curves and softness was different yet enjoyable. I longed for a male body to hold but a woman's was a lovely substitute. As the fog of sleep came over me Tim's face and voice came to my mind while Wendy's smooth soft hand rested upon my breast. I moaned inwardly feeling warm breath crossing my face as I feel asleep. 

Waking a little after 6 the next morning I found myself alone. Then I recalled Wendy saying her husband was picking her up at 6. I noticed she had folded my clothing and placed them on the table. Upon the pile was a note, "Kate, I wish I could be here to awaken you this morning. I really hope this will not be our only time. I would enjoy taking your to new heights. Thank you for allowing me to be your female first. Love Wendy."

I lay there recalling the prior night. Being with Wendy was an emotional and touching experience. I allowed myself to be seduced. Yes, I had too much to drink. Yet, I knew what was happening and went willingly. My unknown female emailer was right in her reading. My conscious mind now knew the curiosities of my subconscious. When the opportunity presented itself, and with alcohol reinforced courage, I ceased it. 

Wendy was gentle and understanding. She drew me forward step by step. She knew this was a daring step for me. She made me feel like I was the only person who mattered to her. As we lay entwined in our after passion I learned Wendy had eight affairs over her seventeen years of marriage. Six were women. Her husband did not know of her affairs. His male ego would be threatened by her seeking female lovers. He would feel that she was doing it because he was not a good enough lover, not for desire to be with a woman and experience female loving. 

Would I do it again? The memory of Sunday night aroused my curiosity for more. That said, would I do it with Wendy? The note provided her email address, but no telephone numbers. Evidently she was being guarded and taking few risks. It is ironic that I left Wyatt because of his philandering ways with women. Now I am "the other woman". I did not like it, but that is what I would be if I met Wendy again. All day Monday the irony of it all played upon my mind.

An hour and a half before heading home on Valentine's Day, a potted red mini-rose bush in a white planter with a red bow came to my desk. The large card read, "Katie, thank you for a memorable evening. You are a precious woman. The power of your sensuality is surpassed only by your generous heart. Within you is a volcano of passion seeking release. I saw it your eyes that night. I hope you felt it too. My wish is that your passion and strength of spirit will find full release." 

"Though in the scheme of life our time has been mere seconds, I feel we have known each other for an eternity. There was something by the way you looked that night that took my breadth away. Your smile and the glint in your eyes caused my heart to leap. When you first touched me hand I wanted to embrace you fully and to protect you from all harm. My heart wanted to reach in and take from your heart an unspoken pain I saw in the back of your eyes. Though I could not stay with you until the sun brought forth its warming light, I departed into the darkness with a heavy heart and a tear in my eye. My first love still means more to me than I could ever express and I will not put our relationship at risk ever again. My heart and life will forever belong to my first love. None will be able to replace the joys, passion and love that are grounded in youthful days." 

"Yet on this day of love I cannot let my thoughts go unspoken. I still see your smiles and your tears. My heart desires nothing less than to apply a healing balm and to be your protector. Your soft round face is burned into my mind. Your laugh and sweet voice dances in my ears. Being with you feels so natural. Thought I wish we could become best friends and kindred spirits, I acknowledge that wish is not possible. In am conflicted in my thoughts about you. While I would like to think you feel the same, such a hope may only be one of my unrealized dreams." 

"You deserve only the best. Nothing further will be said unless you return an expression in the coming days. Lacking a clear message or sign I will do nothing more. I made that mistake once and I will not make it again. I will tuck the memory of that night and our conversations in the sweet spot of my heart." 

"May these flowers recall a cherished evening. May the mini roses grow in your home as they reflect the beauty of your face and spirit. May they remind you of your sensuality, your beauty and strength. May they encourage you to unleash your passion and unleash your heart that you have kept chained too long. At heart, your lover." 

Initially perplexed as I had not given Wendy my address or telephone number, I realized I told her where and in what department I worked. I knew it was unsigned to protect me. She must have paid a premium to have such a lengthy message included printed onto the card. Wendy was good, very good indeed in continuing her seduction. She was well down the road to capturing my heart. I could read between the lines that she was saying she wanted to be with me again. I want to give myself to someone. Wendy walked through the door to captivate my attention. Tim and Kara are away from the front of my mind. 

Being gently seduced warms my heart. A smile came upon my face. I was the focus of someone's amorous intentions. Wendy reached in with words I needed to hear. She knows my heart even though we just met. Before I heard the voice of our department's secretary, I clutched the card to my breast thinking, "I have a lover. I have a lover who has touched my heart!"

I could not fault Gina for being curious as to the man who sent the flowers. I avoided the question by asking her for a report on a spill in Nigeria. There was no way I was going to say that the roses are from another woman. 

Though alone Valentine's night, my spirit was quieted by the warmth of knowing I am loved. Lately, my life has been on a roll coaster. Wendy has pulled the break, allowed me to get off, and given me new opportunities to experience tenderness, desire and pleasure. I had been trying to get my mind around what happened Sunday. The flowers overcame the last of my issues. I am no longer feeling guilty for having a female lover. I quietly smiled at the lack of concerns about no longer being a nice girl. 

The night with Wendy was tender. That night along with the roses provided me the physical and emotional release I needed. 

It seemed only natural to start this reflection on Valentine's evening, an evening of love and passion. I am amazed how things have changed in ten days. Then I was participating with Kara to attract her husband's desires. Back then Tim filled my thoughts. Being in his arms and to experience his passion and kisses was my dream. Now, my thoughts have turned to another. Wendy's seductive letter was drawing my heart to her. My problem is how much to give myself to this new experience. I still earn for male passion, touch and hardness. For now I am pleased to have Wendy's words, touch and lovemaking skills draw forth my sexual desires and passions.

While I want to repair my relationship with Kara, I will not play her games. If we do repair her friendship I have walked away from Tim. I am surrendering myself to another, albeit a woman. As far as Tim is of concern, fortunately he has not been aware of my interest and feelings for him and any feelings he has had for me appear to have been more lustful in nature. I am not in his heart and for that I am thankful. My feelings will die as my desires for love and passion for another bloom with the rose bush. 

The first draft helped me to work through my thoughts enough to send a Valentine's email to Wendy. "Wendy, or should I say dearest Wendy for what I am saying? Thank you for Sunday, for not only coming to my rescue, for her understanding and for introducing me to a new world. Your gentleness and kisses are so different than what I have ever experienced. You worked through my initial awkwardness to bring forth pleasure I have long suppressed. Your roses and note touched my heart. I almost cried that you thought so much about me to send them. Without reservation I want to be with you. I am longing for more of your sensuous touches. I am surrendering myself to you. Yes I want you to teach me more about female lovemaking, and to introducing me to more new experiences. I want nothing less to give you my full passion in return and to thrilling you. Wendy, I am yours for the teaching. 

Your face and womanly body are vivid in my mind. Between now and then I will find ways to increase my longing to see and make love to your body. Again, I am yours to be taught and for your pleasuring. Katie." The last thing I wanted to do was send a mixed or unclear message. Seeking to be as clear as possible I told her to take charge and I wanted her to be my teacher. 

The next day checking my emails at noon I noticed a message from Jeff, Tim and Kara's youngest son, reminding me of the time of his high school band concert on Thursday. I cursed under my breath for making the promise to be at the concert. How Kara would react concerned me. The last thing I wanted was a public scene.

Thursday I slipped into the back rows as the first jazz band was playing its first item. Over on the right half way up sat Tim and Kara. When the first two concert bands started the stage change Kara moved into the seat beside me. She patted my hand as she said "thank you for coming. Jeff will be happy to see you after. He thinks the world of you. Thank you for what you said. A best friend says what needs to be said, even if it is painful to speak and hear. A best friend is willing to risk the friendship. Thank you for being you and kicking some sense into me." Before I could form my thoughts on this unexpected turn she left to join Tim. She gave me my space. 




My Problem Ch. 03



With the music playing in the background I processed what had just been said. One is Kara's strengths is her self-reflection and analysis. Another is she admits when she is wrong and has a big heart. I knew I too had to make amends and do it tonight. During the next change that brought Jeff's band to the stage I moved to sit with Tim and Kara. I reached over and took her hand. We looked at each other, without a word we nodded our forgiveness and acceptance. At the end of the concert Kara and I chatted. After I said hello to Jeff and complemented his band Kara and I agreed to get together for lunch on Saturday.

The next day an email from Wendy arrived. Her seductive message read, "Kate, you too are in my thoughts. I hope the florist included the sugar mixture to keep the roses fresh. You are welcome about the note. I am happy to have you submit to me and be my new lover. My husband is on a ski trip with three of his friends a week Friday. I will send you the name of motel you can book. You will need to reserve it as I cannot have my husband discovering it on our card. I cannot wait to teach you and introduce you to new thrills. You will be thrilled by your first taste of a woman's pussy. Believe me, once you acquire the taste you will crave more and more. You are a lovely girl who I am going to love teaching and receiving pleasure from you. Are you willing to submit to me? Are you really willing to do whatever I wish, to allow me to push through any reluctance and introduce you to new thrills and pleasures? Wendy." 

In her email described cut roses, not a rose bush. She is a busy marketing consultant and probably forgot what she ordered. Saturday morning I sent a message to Wendy saying that yes I wanted her to introduce me to new sexual pleasures and that I would submit to her fully. I would be with men again, but right now I am content to explore lesbian sexuality. As I climbed into the Mita I wondered what and how I would tell Kara.

Kara was waiting for me in the parking lot of the Chinese restaurant. As we waited to place our order I uttered my apology which she gracefully accepted. I told her I was ashamed of yelling at her. When I said I do not why I became so angry she said it was okay and she understood why I would get angry. Though I was curious she stated that would be for another time.

Before our order arrived Kara apologized again. My comments caused her to reevaluate things. While she was initially angry at me, she recognized that I was speaking more truth than not. Sunday she was moody because she was down on herself. Late afternoon Tim put on a Barry White CD and listened with his eyes closed. She said he looked so peaceful with a small smile across his face. She suspected he was thinking of her and their first 22 years of marriage, "our joyous years" as she called them. She sat in the kitchen out of sight. As the music flooded her mind with memories of their joyous years tears filled her eyes. The romance and their intimacy had escaped them due to their carelessness. 

While Kara had not forgotten how much she loved Tim, it dawned on her that she had taken him for granted and had not been expressing her love to him for too long. For the last three years he had been doing what he could to recapture their lost romantic times but she turned him away. In these last years she used cancer as a reason to push Tim away, to keep him from her bed and to avoid sex. 

Tim made a big mistake. She confessed that her ongoing reaction was just as big. Her view that once a cheater always a cheater was unduly harsh. The two are not necessarily always linked together. She realized that the same thing use to be claimed about those who engage in pre-marital sex, if you had sex before marriage you would start having affairs once married. I replied that I knew that was not true as I had remained true to Wyatt even though I had several lovers before I married him. 

She only had to look at her own life to realize how one can easily make a significant mistake and not repeat it. It is how one responds to that mistake, learns from it and builds life is the ultimate measure. A mistake is not a disaster if one learns from it and finds ways to keep it from being repeated. She regretted she forgot to this important lesson. I complemented on her wisdom. She laughed that it was not hers but Tim's thinking. 

Then she whispered that she was on the receiving end of this lesson following a conference nine years ago in San Antonio. The two weeks after her return she had been out of sorts. Tim surprised her with a romantic dinner one Friday evening at a restaurant overlooking a small waterfall. Kara recalled him holding her hand and touching her arm constantly as he gazed lovingly into her eyes. As they were finishing the meal he whispered he loved her. Looking into her eyes he smiled that she was the best thing that had happened in his life. Then he said that a mistake is not a disaster if we can build positively from it. 

I noticed tears in her eyes as she described it all. She had forgotten that night and the conference until Sunday. She said Tim lifted a heavy weight from upon her heart that night and she needed to do the same for him. He loved her unconditionally and sought only to bring joy and fulfillment to her life. She lost that focus and was out to correct it now. 

Only as I reflected upon her words that see what she seemed to be implying. Had Kara implied that she had a fling at the conference? I think so. Had she said that though Tim suspected he did not push the matter, but just loved her and encouraged her to move forward? Kara had never even hinted at this before. She always gave me the impression that she had never come close to what Tim had done. If Tim knew he never said anything even though his wife held his against him. I would have flung what I knew or suspected back rather than remain silent. I was puzzled by his silence. Then I recalled one of their fare fighting rules, if you have forgiven something then you never bring it up again. Tim had forgiven her, he was showing his unconditional love by his silence and caring. At times I thought Tim was an ass for having an affair, but knowing what I just learned impresses me. Then just as quickly I just remind myself I had another heart interest, or maybe it is a lust interest she termed it. 

Kara said she had taken Tim for granted, and I agreed with her. With tears flowing that night she resolved to love her husband without condition and to do what she could to bring a healing to him and to their relationship. She not only asked Tim to join her in bed but also asked him to make love to her. When Kara looked into her husband's eyes as they were intimately connected she saw tears of happiness in his eyes. Her eyes welled up as well.

Life has surprising turns and a juxtaposition of events. As Tim and Kara were rediscovering their love and intimacy I was being seduced. Their evening was filled with passion and assurance. Mine was discovery of a different passion. As Tim fell asleep in Kara's arms she realized how much she missed him and it was time for her to close the wound she had kept open. As I fell asleep beside a womanly form and lover I realized I was moving into a different world of experiences and my life was changing for what I hope will be for the better.

She said that Tuesday she received two bouquets of flowers, one at the office and one at home. Both had moving love letters included that she has placed in her drawer containing other special letters and mementoes. 

Clasping my hand Kara surprised me again. She is still willing to have me build a relationship with Tim. She is still looking a year or so down the road. I swallowed while shaking my head. Her eyes became saddened when I told her that I found someone else. She expressed the expected surprise without any anger. I sketched what happened Sunday night as well as the love note that came with the flowers. She giggled, "my word Kara, you had sex with another woman. And are you saying you may be in love with her? Or is it lust? It sounds like more lust to me." I replied that whatever it is, I wanted more and was going to meet her Friday. Though Kara was surprised and she was happy for me. 

Kara confessed she use to wonder what it would be like to fondle and suck a woman's breasts as Tim enjoyed it immensely. I told her it was different, erotic and comforting that night. While I could not say much more because of as all that was going on in my mind, I am looking forward to exploring my bi side. When I used the word bi I smiled. It was the first time I used that word to describe myself. And I feel warm saying that I am bi-sexual. Tim's interests in sex sites and the stories links stirred my desires for sex. Nancy tapped into my suppressed desires that I was not going to deny them.

Pulling the card from my purse allowed her to read the card. Her lip quivered after a few seconds. She asked how important the card played in my decision to meet Nancy again. Very I replied. Before the roses and card I lacked the nerve, but they gave new meaning to the evening. They helped me to set aside concerns and throw caution to the wind. The message moved me and made me feel valued and desired. 

Noting the printing seemed to be male she asked if I was sure about all this. I replied the florist would have written it from an internet or telephone order. Nancy did not sign the card because as she did not want to cause any office gossip. 

When I asked why she was so inquisitive about the card she smiled. She just wanted to make sure I had thought things through. She cautioned me not to allow sex and the feelings of exhilaration cloud my mind. She suggested that I take it slow and had a feeling that I should not go for a weekend with Nancy. When I said I was throwing caution to the wind she nodded that she understood. Out of keeping with her comments of caution she encouraged me to hold the card dear. Its author has a thing for me and she hopes I will be able to love its author with the same passion hinted at in the card. Then again, she was being a supportive friend. With sincerity Kara stated she is happy I received the roses. I agreed that Nancy its sender was expressing heart felt thoughts. 

I am on a new path. I am feeling free. Last night I shopped for lingerie, cami, a tank top and skirts Nancy requested in Monday's emails. Tomorrow evening, Friday, Nancy and I are meeting. I am excited and looking forward to learning more about Nancy. I feel asleep last night to thoughts of basking in her love and pleasuring. This morning as I searched for words to thank her and to express how she has touched my heart in such a short time. 

I am content to explore my sexuality even if it is with another woman. My problem with Tim and concerns about Rene are behind me. One day I may email her, but not today. My friendship with Kara has been healed. And I have a new love interest. Life can be good, even when it takes you in unexpected directions. 



My Problem Ch. 04



Normally a return trip from Winchester takes an hour. That Saturday morning, well over 90 minutes. In my state of mind it seemed twice that time. For days my imagination filled my mind with wonderful images and drove me blindly forward. To say my body, mind and spirit anticipated being with Nancy would be an understatement. Longed or craved are more accurate descriptors. In looking back, clearly my unbalanced desires led me into a nightmare. The erotic weekend I craved and imagined turned into a nightmare with eternal consequences. The last reflection was to be the end. I would be forever burdened if I my leaving the impression my problem resolved romantically with a new love interest encouraged another woman to throw caution to the wind and end up harmed.  

This is not an erotic reflection and is not intended to be such. If that is what the reader is seeking, stop reading and look at another posting. As with the last postings this is part of a process of self reflection, a neotherapy of sorts. As I had invited others to provide helpful comments, it is only appropriate to continue this reflection for the handful who are interested in life experiences and who seek to build their understanding of sexuality and life not upon fantasy but upon what has happened to others. I am not condemning fantasies, as I have them too. Building our plans and understanding of our own selfhood upon ungrounded fantasies is risky. I find fantasies to be helpful in stirring the imagination and desires, particularly if they happen to be grounded in reality. To those who have posted such stories from their experiences and who have touched upon the human soul and life issues I wish to thank you. Such writers have given me food for thought during these past months, particularly as I have sought to move beyond my rape. And as you can imagine this is the most difficult of the reflections to write.

As I edit this I realize this one is much longer than the others. So much has transpired in my heart and life these past weeks that I just need to get it down on paper and to conclude it rather than splitting it into two. Some commented have suggested that an editor would be helpful, and I would agree if this was just a story where one can refine the details. In these past three weeks I have heard stories from Kara that tantalize my erotic side and which I may use as a basis for stories. If I do them, for those yes partnering with an editor would be welcomed.

I have contradictory feelings and thoughts from one day to another. There are contradictions between thoughts and actions, between what we say we want and what we do a few days or weeks later. Yet, that is our humanity, dynamic travelers in life, a bundle of conflicting feelings, thoughts and actions. 

Other than a few glitches what was to be a lovely weekend started well. I am ashamed that as a critical thinker I missed several warning signs while those that were recognized I summarily dismissed. 

Nancy first seduced me on February 12th. The Valentine's flowers and the enclosed note put to rest any misgivings. Overwhelmed with a flood of thoughts about the intensity of rediscovering the joys of sex coupled with the new experience of being intimate with a woman drove my heart and mind forward. I became like a kid on Christmas Eve, eager with expectation of the unknown and the joy of wonderful discovery. I recalled her perfume and the aroma of her hair. I imagined how they would impact me again. And in tasting myself I wondered how her womanly moisture would taste.

Initially we were going to meet in the Stafford area but Nancy did not want to risk one of her husband's friends seeing her at a motel while he was out of town skiing. I booked the Winchester motel she named. Nancy stated in her emails she would take charge and would introduce me to new experiences. In an email I replied, "with joyous anticipation I will surrender fully to your erotic tutelage. I want to experience it all." Now those words appear so foolish.

Nancy via emails instructed me to bring a tight short skirt or two, seductive tight flattering tops and sexy lingerie. I shopped for what she wanted. I was doing all I could do to make the weekend a great experience.

Arriving at the motel a message saying Nancy was delayed, but to go to dinner at the planned restaurant and leave her key at the desk. She would try to join me there. Knowing she wanted me to dress to entice and tease her, and to catch the attention of others, I dressed accordingly. Her email stated, "if you dress just right, not only will you have my full attention, you will give many a man an embarrassing bulge over which we can laugh together. And we may notice a woman or two looking with lust as well." Dressed in a red stretch camisole a plunging neckline and the shortest skirt I have ever worn and heels I made my way to the restaurant. Though I felt self conscious my heart was racing and I felt a little lightheaded. I looked forward to seeing the look upon Nancy's face when she noticed how I interpreted her instructions. 

She was right, heads turned as I waited to be seated. When I sat down I noticed men looking my way and a few women saying something to their man. Ten minutes after I was seated a note from Nancy arrived saying she would be later than anticipated and I should eat without her. I was disappointed. My heart skipped a beat when I noticed the waitress serving the table across the isle smiling at me. I thought I detected more than just a smile in her eyes and on her face. I felt a little flushed thinking about what the waitress's look communicated. 

While eating the main course I noticed a man looking at me from the bar. He looked familiar. His two friends looked over occasionally as well. As he approached my table I recalled he was from the lounge that Sunday night. Sitting he complemented me on my appearance. He offered that he and his friend would be "pleased to have me." The stress upon have did not go unnoticed. In a frosty reply I told him to leave me before I called the waiter. He smiled. He rose, leaned over and whispered I needed to be put into my place for being such a tease. If I was not interested I should stop dressing like a slut. Fortunately I was nearly finished. I called for my check, paid and headed to the motel. This was not a good start I muttered to myself, but gathered myself in the car. 

Nancy was waiting for me in the room. I immediately went into her open arms. After several kisses she commented how hot I looked. She giggled that I must have made every cock hard and the juices of a few women to flow. Nancy herself was dressed in a black latex halter bustier with black hose.

During our first time she had been slow, seductive and gentle. She focused mainly upon my pleasure. Within thirty minutes that gentle Nancy was replaced by a more demanding and commanding Nancy whose focus was upon me pleasuring her. As the evening progressed her language became increasingly crude and taunting which she explained would move me to new heights. The allure of that thought caused me to surrender fully. With any second thoughts dismissed, her demanding tone and language pulled me deeper into her web of deceit.

She pushed me between her thighs demanding satisfaction. I gave my best and found her responding. I must confess that my heart was beating rapidly at the thrill of it all. The reality of drawing forth her desired release was better my uneducated imagination envisioned. After drawing forth a second release using my fingers and tongue, I was moved onto my back and blindfolded. She promised the blindfold would heighten the experience. And it did. Being deprived of the visual sense caused other senses to be more acute. Her touches and her kisses on my lips and body felt far more sensational than before. Repeatedly I was drawn toward a release, but she never took me over the summit. 

I felt her womanhood over my mouth. I knew what she wanted. I provided it to her. The newness of it all was thrilling. I was easily aroused physically and emotionally.

Every time I came to the summit, she backed me down from the peak. Eventually she shifted and moved my heads above my head. My hands were tied while she explained that not being able to move would further increase the sensations as well the need and strength of my climaxes. My feet were also tied apart as well with another pair of hose. 

Nancy moved over me and drew forth from me a moaning kiss. She was right, not being able to move focused my sexual energy into the kiss. She moved downward ever so slowly to my open womanhood. Her touches, licks and kisses pleasured me as I have never been pleasured before. I wanted to move to express my pleasure but found I could do little. The restraint focused my desire and my mind upon that focal point of pleasuring. Yet just as I was approaching that a climactic moment she backed off again. She asked if I enjoyed it. I cried yes. She told me to beg her for more. And begged. And she gave more. Again she brought me close only to stop. Her taunting and desire for release started to make me cry out as if I was nymphomaniac. I have never begged like this in my life but I pleaded again and again for her to take me to the mountain top.

I felt her legs on either side of my head and then felt her womanhood moving upon my mouth. Just as I drove in giving her pleasure hoping my desires to please her would be rewarded. Moments later I felt her lips and a tongue were upon my womanly channel. Just as I was arriving at the station suddenly my womanhood was filled. 

As I came harder than I could ever remember, I suddenly became aware that the feeling inside me did not seem to be artificial but real. Then just as I came I was empty and lips were upon me. But these lips and tongue were different. This was not right. I cried not with pleasure but alarm. This is not what I wanted. I cried out aloud asking for it all to stop. I heard Nancy laugh commanding me to pleasure her. She was calling me a bitch, a slut and her pet. I stopped my pleasuring of her with my mouth. The moment I started to scream tape of some sort was placed across me mouth.

The dreamed weekend of pleasure quickly turned into a night of agony, a nightmare. My mind was awhirl with anger as my hips were raised with a pillow being placed below me. Nancy had seduced me, then betrayed my trust. 

Anger and rage filled me. Rage toward Nancy and the man. I was angry at myself. Beneath the mask tears gathered in my eyes as the man entered me again. When he satisfied himself enough, I heard another man. Seconds later I felt another man enter me. In my state of mind each minute seemed like five, nay ten. If a penis was put into my mouth I knew what I would do, I would bit down with my teeth as hard as I possible in an attempt to bit through it. Unfortunately I was not given the opportunity to extract a pound of flesh as punishment.

My mind kept screaming NO, NO, NO! My head was constantly rocking back and forth, NO, NO, NO! Though voiceless my vocal chords were becoming raw with the effort to scream and cry. Each thrust into me was like a dagger being thrust into my soul. I never realized until how the ability to cry was tied into one's vocal chords, and that the inability to cry out only deepened the anguish, pain and frustration. 

A third took the place of the second. Yet this shaft was not warm and fleshly. When Nancy laughed I realized what she was using on me with the toy I saw earlier.

My body was in pain. My vagina was burning it was so irritated. Contrary to what men believe, a woman's vagina does not necessarily moisten when stimulated, especially when the stimulation is not invited and desired. I was dearly paying for my rash behavior. I was in pain all over, including my bladder which increasingly sending its uncomfortable feeling throughout my body.

My breasts were not lovingly suckled as from my dreams of prior days. They were used, abused and bruised. Nancy and her cohorts cared nothing about me. Replaying in my mind was Kara asking me to be careful. If only I heeded her words.

Eventually another man replaced Nancy. His hips were larger, and the hair on his thighs and lower abdomen told me this was a different man. The first man had a larger stomach, the second was thin. As this third man was spilling his semen in me my mind was flooded with a terrifying thought. I felt flesh, no condoms. An alarm went off in my head, I am not on the pill. The other two had not had not worn condoms either but they did not come.

Rapidly my mind tried to calculate when my last period started. Was the last month 29 days or 30, or 31? I cursed that I could not focus clearly enough. I cursed that I was not regular from month to month. Fear, anger, pain, confusion and denial running through my mind frustrated my ability to count. By one count if this was a shorter cycle I was a day or two past my prime ovulation window. Two other counts left tears flowing like a river. One put me entering my prime period. By one I was in the middle of my fertility period with thousands of seeds of life in me seeking their fulfillment. 

I heard a manly cry and grunt just before I felt his release flooding me. When he was done one of the other men again took me and filled me also. Then the second man did the same. Maybe they were a fourth and fifth man. I was in no state now to know who was who. 

I reminded myself it would end and I just needed to focus upon other things besides what was happening to my body. It helped some but not as much as I would have wished. I kept coming back to the same thought and image; being a ruined woman. My ruination crushed my heart. I imagined a brave knight charging to my rescue. Then Tim's face briefly flashed in my mind. I groaned even more. There no hope, no hope. Why would he ever be interested in me? The only benefit these thoughts had upon me was to distract me from what was happening to my body. Images of my parents and family vacations were pulled to mind. I focused upon how lovely a couple my parents made, he being Swedish with blood hair and she being Chickasaw and white. I had inherited my father's Swedish complexion and blond hair whereas my brother reflected my mother's darker complexion. 

Eventually it did end with a familiar voice saying, "anyone up for anymore of this slut?" I heard at least two grunts, possible another. I do not know who or how many abusers there were. There were at least three men, possible one or two more. I could not be sure. How many men participated would only be a guess.

When things ended I heard Nancy ask after kissing someone "did I do a good baby?" His statement "you sure did. Tina, I love how you serve and pleasure me. She was great to have" struck me. How he pronounced "pleasure" and drew out the "pl" was distinct. It was the man from the earlier in the restaurant and from the lounge. I was a pawn in his chess game.

I heard rustling of cloths as my abusers dressed. A mouth came upon my breast for ten or so seconds. When he disengaged he proclaimed, "the $250 is well worth it. This is much better than a hooker for an hour." And another voice "call me when you have another party. I get off stuffing white meat. Thanks for first dips cumming." I thought I heard another say "this is great." I had been sold. I cried, I was now a whore.

When the door closed again I struggled again against my bonds to no avail. Laying beside me and touching my body Nancy quietly informed me that she enjoyed introducing me to a new world of experiences. She whispered wanted to turn me into her pet and introduce to more. NO! I screamed within. Pulling the tape from my mouth she kissed me forcefully. I tried to scream my hate and anger but it was useless with her mouth forcefully affixed to mine. Breaking the kiss she immediately placed her hand over my mouth before again covering it with tape. 

After removing the blind Nancy told me clearly that she became her lover's pet similar to this. If I yielded I would discover so much pleasure. She was commanded to find a woman to seduce and a woman who could serve her lover and her. The two did not have to be the same person but our first night and our email exchanges indicated I had submissive tendencies. Tears were streaming out of my eyes as I shook my head. 

The clock in the room read 1:53. It had been nearly five hours since leaving the restaurant. I could only cry. Nancy had moved to the chair and was studying me. My bladder could not hold out any longer and once it started I flooded the bed. Nancy grabbed some towels and laughed at my predicament. I refused to cooperate so she kept me secured and mute. 

She thought I desired to explore my sexuality and be a submissive in the process. She was partly right about exploring my sexuality. My reaction shouted, not in this manner. To bully me she called me various unflattering names. Then she turned sweet and seductive again in another not so veiled attempt to get me to surrender psychologically. Focusing upon the memories of my mother and father's loving relationship I tuned her out. Her game was not working. Her touches to arouse my body now discussed me. That which stimulated me before had no affect. She miscalculated. 

I was exhausted but the bright lights and her touches kept me awake. I remained firm. I looked upon her with bitterness and rage. All but the bathroom light went off. The clock read 3:47. Finally I slept.

Just before 10 I awoke to children running in the hallway. My hands and feet were untied. Though free physically I was still confused and numb. Part of me knew what happened, part of me was in denial. As I showered I wondered about calling the 911. What would I say? I could tell them what happened but could I give them any names or leads? Everything was in my name. I did not know Nancy's last name. And Nancy may not be her real name. Would they believe me? Would they believe me after learning about the emails? As the warm beating of the shower massager soothed my torso it struck me that showing was the last thing I should have done if I was to call the police. As I dressed I the desire to get to the safety of my home overwhelmed me.

Getting to my car I took hold of my cell. In my bleary sight hit Tim and Kara's number. Tim answered and I asked for his wife. He was in LA speaking at a weekend conference and I mistakenly called his cell. I must have sounded in a bad way because he kept asking what was wrong. I rambled I needed to talk with Kara. Getting hold of Kara I asked her to meet me in an hour at home. I needed her more than ever.

Five times, maybe six or seven times, I pulled off the interstate to cry and clear my eyes. I was relieved to find Kara waiting in my drive. Telling her the whole story helped some, but I still felt numb. I wept and wept. She just held me and cried with me. 

I appreciated Kara's comfort with no platitudes or condemnations. Being believed was an emotional comfort. She kept offering to take me to the hospital but I refused. I rationalized that my damage was psychological and the bruises would heal. I do not know why neither of us thought about getting the morning after pill at that moment. I was still wildly fluctuating between denial, anger, acceptance and the desire just sleep and move on the next day. 

Twice during the day moments of pain crossed Kara's face. This was not empathetic pain, it was not a good day for her but she remained with me. Seeing her suffering reminded me that though such days were rare in these past weeks, she was not the only one dealing with turmoil in her life. In a ghastly way I was comforted seeing her pain and with the thought that at least I was not dying. 

Around 7:40 she responded to the door bell. Tim appeared and threw his arms around me while assuring me of his support. Explaining he did the first two presentations the prior night and immediately after the call he left the third undone because a good friend in need trumps a conference presentation. His hugs felt strange. I was conflicted. I did not want to be touched by a man yet his comfort calmed my spirit. I wanted him to hold me. He was a good friend who had charged to my side. I felt protected and safe as I curled against him. 




My Problem Ch. 04



I do not remember moving to my bed. Kara who spent the night with me told me that I had fallen asleep in Tim's arms. He carried me with some difficulty to my bed where Kara loosened my clothing. 

Tim returned early in the morning. How early I do not know as with aid as I did not awaken until well after 10 Sunday morning. When I finally awoke Tim served me breakfast in bed. On the tray was a pink rose. An array of carnations and pink roses were on my dresser and two side tables. The room smelled of flowers.

After breakfast Kara led me to my whirlpool tub filled with soothing warm water and bath oils. It too smelled of roses and flowers. The sounds of a canoe moving across a lake during a light rain wafted from the CD player. Kara settled behind me in the tub. Between the pulses from the jets and Kara's gentle washing, my body was soothed. Her touches and massaging of my beaten body was a cool balm upon me. After I dressed Kara and I found Tim sitting before a crackling fire.

Kara and Tim spent the day with me. They just sat with me, allowed me to talk and sleep as I so choose. Physically I was safe and secure even though my soul was still an open wound. When I said I was to blame for what happened Kara and Tim quickly but gently challenged such thoughts. I awoke sometime in the wee hours of the morning crying out as I was reliving my nightmare. Within seconds the door opened and I was being held by Tim. When I stopped crying and shaking he lay me down. As my comforter lay with me on top of the comforter my hand moved into his. Holding his hand I again rested.

The early light awoke me. As I exited my bedroom I almost stumbled across Tim. The dear man had not slept in either of the spare bedrooms at the end of the hall. With his head on a pillow and encased in blankets he slept at my door ready to rush to my side.

I left a voicemail with my supervisor saying I was ill but would be in Tuesday to complete the Katrina environmental status report due Thursday. Seeing a woman with child being interviewed on a noontide show caused me to rush to call the doctor. Three and half hours later with a prescription for Ovral I was on the way to the pharmacy. I breathed a sigh of relief. Life was going to be fine I reminded myself. I am strong and I will get through it. I was a chatter box that night as I talked with Kara about maybe going this summer to France and Italy or maybe traveling the Rockies from Colorado to Alberta. Thinking about the future was my escape, it was like being wrapped in a warm blanket on a cold winter night.

My dear friends were at my home each night that week. They listened to my ramblings and reflected back my statements in an effort to get me to vent and give voice to my anger, confusion, anxiety and ambivalence. Being accepted without condemnation was a ray of light into my darkened heart. One or the other stayed with me each night. Thursday night Kara was working late. I suddenly felt uncomfortable being alone with Tim even though I reminded myself he is not one of my abusers. Just the thought of being alone with a man was unsettling. He seemed to sense my need for space and spent most of the evening calmly doing little repair jobs around my home. 

I later learned that though he demonstrated exterior calm and comfort Tim was seething inside. He was angry at my abuse. Through his secretary's brother who is a local police officer Tim tried to learn the identity of my abusers. He wanted to gather information so that I could have the option to press charges. As I had suspected that Saturday morning they had covered their trail. Nancy booked her room that Sunday evening with a generic Visa fee card under the name of Beth Hamilton at a fictitious Monroe Indiana address. The hotel would release the tapes only to police after a formal complaint had been filed. The internet email account was accessed by a Nancy Yarrow from four local public library computers. Another dead end. I knew the emails could be twisted to being an invitation for rough sex. Even further, Nancy was called Tina by one of the men. The trail was full of obfuscating information. Tim apologized that he had not turned up any viable information.

I am still somewhat relieved that he was not successful because I lack the fortitude to see them or to describe what happened that night to courtroom full of strangers. Needless to say, the fear of aggressive cross examination was also overwhelming. I feared how the defense could twist my emails and actions, and then to have their comments become part of the public record. I feared that if it went to court I would again loose control. I know most will not understand, but I just want to get on with my life. I wanted to make decisions and to control my life. 

My moods swung from day to day. One day melancholy. The next I was more outgoing than normal. There were moments when the feeling of helplessness would be overwhelming. Some days I felt shame and in my paranoia took innocent glances wrongly as I wondered if the person was thinking I was a slut. I went through self-blame of "if only I had...", the denial of "it was only a bad dream", and to feeling sorry for myself with "why me, what have I done" thoughts. I was angry at my abusers but my greatest anger was reserved for me, for allowing this all to happen to me. One day while in a meeting with one female and five male colleagues I found my heart racing and I began to perspire even though two days before I was fine with the same group.

In my head I knew I am the victim, but on the emotional level, I was clearly in turmoil. Tim drawing from his past life in college student services gently reminded me twice during a three period that images, sights and sounds would cause me to have flashbacks. He encouraged me to seek therapy but being stubborn I said I would be fine. I knew my soul was a festering wound but by remaining stubborn and self-reliant I was demonstrating that I was clearly my father's daughter.

Though in my mind I was blaming myself, I would not admit that to anyone. Tim sensed this. One night Tim said I needed to find away to forgive myself. I yelled at him. I did not want to hear it even though I knew he was right. I was being too harsh upon myself. I should be angry at my abusers, not myself. If their names are discovered I would want them prosecuted, but my anger was turned inward. Bitterness and vengeful emotions toward my abusers was allowing the negative aspects of my selfhood to eat away at my positive characteristics. Tim said I needed self reconciliation and to stop wallowing in self pity. I did not want to hear any of this and cursed at him and told him to get out. I only saw Kara for three days. I slowly came to realize that he was right. I needed to be reconciled with myself. I also knew he risked our friendship by telling me what I needed to hear.

Days later I concluded that forgiveness of self and also of my abusers will not devalue the crime. Rather it would allow me to move on with life and help free me of the burden upon my shoulders. I detested how my bitterness and hatred was killing my joy for life. Realizing the need to forgive myself and my abusers is one thing. Doing it within my heart was another matter. Kara and Tim kept urging me to go to a counselor but I refused. My suborn nature that helped me in so many ways was now my handicap.

Holding onto my anger was slowly eating at my soul. The negative anger needed to be relinquished while holding to the positive anger. Forgiveness of self was the prescription On the Sunday morning of the 12th the phone rang at 8:15. Tim and Kara were going to take me out for the morning and then to a Sunday brunch. When I inquired where he responded, "you will find out. Kara says it is something we all need. Put on a nice dress. We will be at your place at 10."

By ten Tim's Taurus pulled up. He came to the door and escorted me to the car. Within 20 minutes we were turning into the church which they attended from time to time. Other than for two funerals and a wedding I had not entered a church in years.

I cannot describe how it all affected me. I did not want to be there, but at the same time I wanted to be there. The quiet atmosphere and music before the service soothed and calmed my inner being. My eyes took in the symbols, the woodwork and the lighting. An engraved statement in a railing "all you who are heavy hearted come and find rest" arrested me. The hymns and prayers seemed to be meant for me. I remember going to church with my mother and father as a child. In my late teens I drifted away thinking that rationale thinking and scientific discovery held the answers to life. Sitting there with Kara by my side I started to question those assumptions.

The minister spoke about phrases associated with the cross. When she described Jesus saying "father forgive them" I focused upon every word. Neither the cry of a baby, nor the hacking cough of a man, nor the giggling of teens girls several rows broke my attention. She spoke of divine forgiveness bringing reconciliation to the soul. And when she spoke of forgiving others for sins and actions inflicted upon you as being liberation and freedom my heart leapt. I needed that freedom. My hand grasped Kara's hand. I looked at her and noticed a tear in her eyes. 

In conclusion she spoke of prayer being a mystical healing moment between our soul and God. She invited her listeners to prayer quietly for a moment without any music being played. I was not religious but felt strangely compelled to pray. I did not know if there was a divine being and that is where I started my prayer. When I asked for the ability to forgive myself and my abusers, I felt at peace, at peace with all including myself. I had not suddenly become religious, nor do I claim to have become converted as I understood it from my younger days, but I knew I had let go of the bitterness and anger that was eating at me. I accepted I am a victim of rape, but one who was no longer going to allow what they did control my life. I was free of them. I had my life back and I was smiling at the music started up on my mother's favorite hymn, Amazing Grace. I sung with freedom.

As we sang the hymn Tim and Kara were holding hands. As we got toward the end of the penultimate verse Kara put the hymnal back in the rack. But they kept singing the last verse looking into each other's eyes. As they sang "And when we have been there ten thousand years" tears flowed from each of their eyes. Pure love for his bride shone in Tim's eyes. Taking place between husband and wife was the expression of healing, forgiveness, loving support and the relinquishing of each other into the hands of what remained of their life together. No one other than myself knew what was being communicated in that moment between them. I feel honored to have witnessed their most intimate moment where their hand holding, eyes, quivering lips, shaking voices and tears were communicating volumes. 

As I type this I am extremely happy that the turmoil in their relationship has been healed. Forgiveness and love discovered. I long to be a recipient of a man's loving gaze like I saw in Tim's eyes. One day, may be one day, a man will come into my life who will look upon me with such love and joy. I also want a man who will not seek to control or manipulate me but with whom I will be an equal partner. I will await a man who would be willing to put my interests and profession above his if necessary. 

I now see that Kara and Tim functioned as my healing circle that my father described when he talked about the elders of his community. They sat with me, allowed me to vent, to gaze into the smoke to see my life and to gain insight. Then they used a formal sacred ceremony to bring release and to restore my soul. 

When I first started this reflection in January my problem was clear though complicated. It resolved itself at least for me in what I thought was an exciting manner only to have another problem come in its place. That night when I started on this reflection I thought it would end here. Yet life rarely gives us a story book ending, especially after a horrendous experience. 

The wife of one of my colleagues unknowingly triggered a panic attack eleven days later. Shivers ran through me, my hands fidgeted as they became clammy while my heart and breathing raced. Seeing this woman 6 months pregnant forced to the front of my mind that I was late. Not a little late, very late. I just collapsed into my chair. I recalled that I had been urinating a little more frequently, not a good sign. 

I must have looked pail as Jen, one of my office mates, asked if I was ill. Within the half hour I was on my way to a pharmacy and then home. I drove as if I was autopilot. The next thing I knew with a collapsed airbag around me I was having a close look at the front passenger side of a Ford Expedition. I would have easily slowed to miss or swing behind the vehicle rushing to left turn through a tight hole, but the black mass did not register with my thoughts elsewhere. 

Other than lacerations on my legs, arms and face, bruises, two broken fingers and a pounding headache, I was in much better shape than what my eyes saw of my blue Mita. They ran various tests at the hospital. When the doctor gave me a prescription before releasing me he noted that as I was pregnant he would not give me the standard prescription. It was confirmed. 

Taking a cab home I spent that night and the next day mindlessly watching television. Actually the television was on and I was sitting before it, but I still could not recall what shows I watched. The only thing that was accomplished the next day was to talk with my insurance agent, a friend of my departed father. Fortunately the police report showed that the teenage boy was at fault for making an unsafe turn. Unfortunately, my little car was classified as being totaled. Ryan arranged for a rental firm to deliver a car with the paper work for me to sign at home rather than having me go to their office. Ryan convinced the rental firm to do this because I had been hurt. The insurance company would pay for a rental for ten days, enough time for me to purchase a new vehicle. 

Kara was alone and still in her flannel gown when I arrived at her home late Saturday morning with luggage in tow. I had agreed to stay with her for the week as promised as Tim was leaving late that afternoon for a training conference in Atlanta. From just looking at my face she knew something was wrong. 

I told Kara about the accident and the tests results. She were crying and holding each other when Tim arrived with grocery bags in hand. He set them down before moving to the side chair in the living room. As I wiped my eyes and blew my nose I noticed he had a strange look. Walking toward the kitchen Kara stopped briefly before him, touched his hand, nodded and then went to put the perishable groceries away. 

Swiftly Tim moved to the sofa, sat down and drew me into his arms. He knew without being told. He assured me that they would be with me and support me in whatever decision I make. He or Kara would go with me to a clinic if I wished to have an abortion. Across the kitchen counter Kara affirmed her husband's commitment. 

I think I surprised them by saying I would not abort the baby. I was against taking a life, whether it be through a death penalty or the life of the unborn. I can not in good conscience be against the death penalty by claiming life is precious while contradicting and compromising my position by thinking I could take the life that was within me even. To me, even in its early stage it was still a life. What about my right to be in control of my body Tim asked. Looking him in the eye I gave him my but firm reply. My right to control my body and life ends when it harms the life of another. It is like free speech; my freedom to speak ends when I use that freedom to knowingly impinge upon the rights of another, slander them or brings them undue harm. 

As I now reflect upon the unwavering decision to carry the baby to term I realize I also need this baby. Being taken and abused was outside my control. I was drawn into a trap and victimized. Besides being contrary to my intellectual views, in my heart aborting the child growing within me would further my victimization. By having the child, loving it and protecting the child I was in a sense, at least to my way of thinking, taking back control. The biological father would have no right to this child whatsoever. He got his thrill and walked away after inseminating me. This is my child, not his. He will not share it the joy of seeing his child grow. 

Tim's offer to not attend the conference was refused by both Kara and I. I would be fine. When Tim went upstairs to finish packing I asked why she was grinning. She only said "we will have time to talk later." 

After dropping Tim off at the airport Kara and I stopped for dinner. Noting it was later, she said she smiled because Tim's offer was showing concern for me. Though he did not support abortions, he was not thrusting his view upon me. His focus was upon me, "just like a husband should" she smiled. I felt uncomfortable and quickly changed subjects.

Sunday morning over breakfast I asked Kara if she was going to church. If I was asking then it meant I needed to go, so yes she was going. She was right, I sensed I needed to go. Again the minister's message spoke to me. It may have been her words alone but I also suspect that it was because she was talking upon one of my mother's favorite passages on love. 

As the reverend spoke it was as if my mother was speaking to me. Though love is expressed in different ways, regardless of how it is expressed, its highest form is when love is given freely without condition for the benefit recipient. It puts the wellbeing of the other above self. It is slow to anger and quick to forgive. As she was speaking, I grasped for Kara's hand grasped mine. I looked at her. She merely nodded. I agree love sacrifices freely for the other and helps the other to achieve their highest goals and desires. Love does not impose its will. Such love seeks the best in self and for others. 

Kara whispered in my ear, "I needed this. I have not lived this love as I should for far too long." My spirit was calm and content. "I am going to be a mother," I joyously cried out within. At that moment my heart and mind were soundly and clearly settled, this was my baby and I will love and raise it. Yes, how I became a mother was tragic and horrible, but this is MY CHILD, not their child. They provided merely the seed. I held my abdomen and spoke my first motherly vow, to love this child with all my heart, to protect it from all harm, to guide and direct his or her life. 

Kara must have noticed something different, "I see your eye's are aglow with motherhood." I nodded with tears of joy in the corner of my eye. 

That afternoon as Kara rested I looked at Jeff moving around his home with new eyes. I smiled quietly as I watched him work on his homework and IMing his girlfriend. When my friend awoke I prepared a simple meal of baked chicken and rice. Jeff devoured the meal while Kara just nibbled. She kept looking as if she was about to say something but stopped each time.

After eating Kara and I returned to her room where we had a long honest conversation that lasted nearly two hours. While somewhat guarded with Jeff moving about the house, we tried to be frank and honest with each other. We shared our desires, dreams, disappointments, angers, frustrations and loves, sometimes using euphemisms. We cried together and laughed together. 

I asked the burning question running in the back of my mind since that beginning of year when she encouraged me to draw the affections of her husband. Why and why me? 

With tears in eyes she said that other than these last "years of stubborn stupidity" her life with Tim has been fulfilling and joyous. Tim would either seek out someone to love or he would become a walking lonely shell. At first she saw me as a way to keep him from being with "that bitch". Her mind shifted as she wants this for Tim's and my sake. When cancer was discovered her husband felt guilt, as if he was in some way responsible. In her state of mind and anger, she allowed his misplaced guilt to deepen and to drive him to drink. He was looking into an abyss of emptiness that started to swallow him just as cancer was swallowing her. 




My Problem Ch. 04



Her husband's actions proclaimed his love. She knows he needs a woman to care for him, to be a good friend and confident, and to keep some of his wilder ideas in check. He needs someone to fill his thoughts and around whom he could plan his life. Knowing him and from the conversations we shared over those dark days, I could not disagree. This explained his crazy emails in December to Rene. He frequently wished he was the one who had a short time to live. Tim has a generous trusting heart which I could see getting him in trouble without a balancing partner. 

He needed to have someone with whom to have fun times. That night and Monday she described their fun times and travels. I would never have imagined them being so adventurous, not with others but in locations and what they did together. I was also surprised at the opportunities that they had to do much more but turned away from the opportunities.

Taking my hand and looking into my eyes she told me that I too needed someone to love me, to love and protect me, and be my soul mate. She was right but I noted that the baby would be my focus. She shook her head arguing that though a child fills one's life and heart, a child is not like having a loving husband at one's side. Kara said she loves me and wants only the best for me.

When I expressed doubts about Tim wanting a woman with child she shook her head. Her reply resounded in my mind "love my dear Kate. Love covers and works through much." 

What about jealousy flaring I asked. As she saw it I was not stealing her husband, she was gifting him a new wife. Nothing would make her happier in her last days than to see someone looking upon her husband with joyous affection and he upon her. She would die contented knowing that he would have someone like me and knowing that she played a part in making it happen. Though I heard her words and saw the tears, what was taking place in Kara's heart is beyond my comprehension. It may be because I have never experienced love to that extent. 

Sunday night Kara handed me an envelope while telling me it would help me to understand. Though I was physically drained I read the card in the envelope, Kara's Valentine card from her husband.

"Dearest, on this day of love I cannot let another task be completed today until I express my love for you. Though these roses are exquisite in their design, beauty and softness, they pale to express my love for you. Even these words fall far far short in expressing what is upon my heart. 

You are not only my wife, you are my life long soul mate. When we wedded, I married well above my station in life. I knew it that day we stood at the alter, I know it even more today. That afternoon as you were escorted to my side by your father, I never saw him or anyone else. My eyes were transfixed upon the one who had embraced and held my heart.

I thought I loved you completely and as fully as possible back then, but I now realize how foolish I was to think such thoughts. As the years my love for you has only broadened, deepened and bloomed under your care. 

Over our marriage, nay even before we married, you have repeatedly lifted me up, provided me courage and fortitude. Time and time again you have been the balm to heal my wounds and sooth my bruised ego.

I have two regrets that still cut me deeply this day. The first is that I have not constantly returned in kind that which you have provided so generously to me. I regret that there have been times I took you and your love me and our children for granted, and in those moments have not been as loving a husband as you rightly deserve. The second, and the one that pains me most, life is denying us the joy of growing old in each other's arms. You my love are my life. I cannot fathom what it will be like without you. There are moments when I wonder how I could live without my soul mate and best friend by my side. I fear that when you die that I will die with you. Maybe that is as it should be because my heart belongs to you. I will continue on but in a sense I will merely be existing.

Sunday and yesterday have been joyous days. To hold you intimately, to again feel the passion of your lips upon mine has renewed my soul. The little grimace I noticed last night in bed reminded me that expressing such intimacy comes at a cost for you. Yet, you gave and gave freely. You liberally provided such pleasure with joyous exuberance so much so that my maleness and heart were taken to lofty heights. Those feelings and images of these days will be forever burned into my memory and cherished in my heart. Yet, because of the cost upon you, I shall not seek or expect any such moments, and if they happen, they should happen my dearest only because of your need and desire.

In these days you have allowed me to move from the dry dessert into the lush meadow of comfort. I fell asleep with a contentment and peace that I have been missing far too long between us. I felt that my best friend has returned. I pledge I will do whatever I can to regain that status again in your eyes. 

Thank you my dearest for drawing me into your heart, for restoring my soul in such a beautiful intimate way. Your love and passion are ever fresh in my heart. Thank you for being the best thing that has happened to me and for filling my mind with a long host of warm memories. Above all, thank you my dearest for being my wife, my comforter, my wise best friend, my lover and most importantly, my soul mate forever.

He who is yours forever. 

Tears rolled from my eyes when I reread the note as I paced the guest room. I was awash with feelings. The penned words were private communication between a husband and wife. The card was not given to me just because it gave me insight into Tim's heart but because of the penmanship. Kara knew I would recognize the printing, the same printing from the same author that moved me on Valentine's Day. The card and flowers I thought were not from Nancy. I was angry that Kara had not warned me, but then I realized she did question my assumptions and conclusions. She questioned the handwriting. And she warned me not to go to Winchester. She did everything short of explicitly saying the card and flowers were from her husband.

That Tuesday Kara visited her oncologist. That night she was uncommonly quiet. Though I pressed her, she claimed to be fine. She just needed to do some thinking. I gave her space even though I noticed her wiping a tear from time to time from her eye.

Wednesday Kara went with me car shopping for a mom car. I had my eye on a 04 silver Camry. At the end we checked my mail. In the privacy of my home was able to press her without fear of Jeff overhearing our conversation. When I asked why she has been so quiet she told me that the drugs not only slowed the progression of her cancer but signs that it is going into remission. 

I was puzzled why she seemed to be standoffish and quiet. "Because Tim has virtually stopped drinking and has started to exercise and lose weight." I mush have had a puzzled look because she said "you should know why girlfriend he is looking after himself." I had my suspicion and in poorly coded manner she confirmed it. 

When Kara said she did want to get too hopeful as she has been preparing to face death for well over a year, I replied, "girlfriend, there is more. What is it?" Kara has seen the look in my eyes, and in her husband's. She regretted stirring our interest when as she is not as close to dying as initially thought. And she confessed that she may have also read more into the earlier statements from the doctors than was there in the first place. She had only the worst case scenario in her mind. 

We both acknowledged that she needed to have an honest conversation with her husband, to bare her soul openly to him, including her affair. She knew it and was determined to bring them to the open before their May 19th wedding anniversary.

I assured her that I respected their relationship and would not allow me to act on feelings for Tim. She was deeply sorry for what she had done to me. On the positive side she helped me to look beyond myself and face up to the fact that I need a person to love. 

Thursday evening Tim returned from his conference. That night I sat before the fireplace reflecting upon what I had learned. And I fought back the tears. Kara and Tim certainly love one another even though they have had a tough road for a few years. My mind was also awash with stories Kara shared with me. They were surprising. I smiled that she had a special man. He left a professional position at a college so that she could earn her own PhD. I understood what drove their professional shifts why he moved away from dealing with people's problems. From some of the stories Kara shared I can see how they could impact a person. 

I did not need to be a party to their frank conversation but I got pulled in. I felt that my feelings did not need to be raised as there was nothing that could be gained with me moving on. Yet during this past Saturday's barbeque Kara surprised me by asking her husband to forgive her. As she started I got up to give them space but Kara firmly grabbed my arm.

She asked his forgiveness for putting a wedge between Joe and him, and then for being slow to forgive him when she too had had an affair. Tim cut her off, "remember our fair fighting rules, what is forgiven is not to be brought up again. I forgave you. It is gone." Kara stammered when and how as she never confessed it before the barbeque. 

Tim explained that he flew to Texas to surprise her for a romantic escape. While waiting in the hotel lounge for her return he saw her enter with a younger man. It was clear that something more was going on than just friends. Watching them enter an elevator alone he noticed it stopped at the 5th floor. He quickly took the next elevator to the same floor in time to see a door closing. As he came to the room he heard the voice of his wife. He walked past the room five or six more times in the next half hour. The sounds coming through the door confirmed what was taking place. He left and flew home downhearted.

When Kara asked why he did not intervene, Tim explained he was furious but feared could result from rage. He felt he had to work through his thoughts first and to control the ground. When she arrived home he could tell she still loved him. It also became quickly evident she felt guilty for her dalliance. He sensed her desire to say something but feared hurting him. Yet her actions continued to way heavy upon her so he took her out for a romantic night. The meal it was his moment to tell her that when you make a mistake, learn from it and move on. Tim assured said he loved her deeply and he does not regret marrying her. It was his moment of saying that she was forgiven. When her spirits lifted that weekend he knew she got the message without directly talking about what had taken place.

He mentioned that he and Joe have spoken several times over the last month. Joe will be returning home the first week of May. Joe would forever regret not being at his mother's side during her last days. Yes, while Joe left partly because of the tension between his parents, the main reason was not wanting to watch his mother slowly die. Tim had explained to Joe that he was a fault for what had been going on between his mother and him, not Kara's. His mother was reacting properly and he had to bear it as just punishment for his unloving act. Kara had tears running down her face as he drew her into a hug. I too was fighting tears. 

While she was hugging her husband Kara headed inside and stood by the kitchen window. As entered the house I heard her telling him about the medical news. He was clearly pleased with the good news. Minutes later I noticed them both looking back and forth between the house and each other. Tim shook his head no several times. Tim became animated before he hugging her again. He then looked straight into her eyes as he spoke. What they were speaking about is conjecture but when it ended Kara sighed and then sat focusing upon the table.

Moments later Tim entered my kitchen and affirmed his wife is the focus of his life. He apologized for his wife's attempt to play matchmaker. He confessed that he considered me to be more than just a friend. He is thankful that I have been there for his wife. He will be there for me and the baby, to be its godfather, uncle or whatever roll I wish for him to play. 

Tim's terminally ill wife initially blessed and encouraged her husband and I to fall in love. Her effort was yielding success, but her improved health changes things. The problem from January will be but a minor footnote in my life when compared to the night I was impregnated in February and the raising of my child. Once the baby is born it will be time to start dating and looking for my own husband. Having a baby will make it tougher but there are plenty out there. 

I hope Kara will be determined to live life as fully as possible. I will miss her when her time comes. In the meantime she is planning a special anniversary for her husband. She is wanting them to renew and redefine their marital vows.

As for Rene, with me taking control of that one email account, she is out of the loop. I felt she should know not to expect to hear from Tim. Hence, I just emailed her a short time ago, "you do not know me, but I am a friend of Tim's. He is well. His wife's health has improved. He is sorry he emailed you while depressed and a little intoxicated. To keep him from doing it again, in January he asked me to take control of this email account by changing the password. I did so. For various reasons he does not know of your email response and I delayed informing you. Katie."

So where does this leave me, Katherine? I am pregnant, alone and in love with a married man. Interestingly, I find myself at peace and contented with my life. No longer do I have a troubling problem. Problems, yes, but not troubling problems. I am moving forward with bold confidence into an unknown future.

Finis  



My Problem



I asked Tim if he had heard from Rene. He shook his head no. When he noted he been checking two or three times a day I knew the memory of Rene had a hold on him. I was pleased that she did not live local but lived several hours away. There was little chance of them meeting in a local mall or grocery store. He did not have her phone number and though he knew her last name, email was the vehicle of contact. He did not know her email address apart from it being saved in his special email account. 

He described her as a "sensuous generous woman" several years his senior. I was relieved as being younger would give me an advantage. Before they meet face to face he felt that there was something much more to their relationship than the hope of sex. Again I was impressed that he saw sex as a vehicle for expressing love in an intimate manner. We talked more what they did while in St Louis, about a visit to a sex club, having two extra male threesomes, and of their desire to have a female threesome that had not worked out before their relationship concluded. 

As hoped he asked again "what am I going to do?" I spoke forthrightly. He had to consider the relationship and Rene as part of his past not future. He had to stop hoping for something that is not likely to happen. In my opinion his email just before Christmas was wrong. It was wrong for him and for her. The email tainted what should remain a warm memory for both. And I meant it truly. He agreed it was an error and his drinking clouded his thinking.

I told him the hope of Rene would forever stand between him and any other relationship. He somewhat agreed, but I sensed he was still holding to a dream of something. Putting my glass in the sink I turned and offered my opinion that the only way to give up the dream and move on was to surrender the relationship. What needs to happen I told him is much like happens to us when we dated, broke-up and that person started dating another. When one or both dated another, the hope of a rekindled relationship normally ended. He nodded in agreement. 

Tim needed do the psychological equivalent. Give up control of that email account. Allow the other person to change the password. He was not ready to give up that control that day, but Sunday I received an email from him asking me to change the email password and not share it with him. I told him I would do so right away to one of my passwords but I would watch to see if anything came in the next two weeks. Around the 19 or 20th I would kill the account by again changing the password with a series of nonsense letters and numbers. Throwing the paper away would thereby effectively be killing the account and killing the hope and possibility of a relationship with Rene. 

On Friday afternoon I confirmed that no email had come in from Rene and I would kill the account that night if no message was there. His short reply read, "thank you Katie for helping me to put Rene to rest and into the ground. You are right that I should cherish her memory and her love. It is time to live on. You support and concern for me had touched me." In the last three weeks Tim's spirit was stronger and he was freer than I have ever seen. I really liked the rejuvenated Tim. Even his drinking changed. Unfortunately, I did not kill the account that night. I am a sub in our firm's bowling league and I go called to sub that night.

While this was taking place seeing Tim as a possible husband was another question. On January 15th while Tim was out, Kara booted up Tim's computer. Shortly his history and downloaded documents yielded what I needed. The downloaded pictures were mainly mature women and group sex. The stories were heavily romantic as well as stories about couples sharing other lovers with the other's knowledge or swapping. 

What Tim wanted sexually in a wife was clear. I did not think that could be me. Yet I have been reading erotic stories for the last month has stirred my imagination and desires. They are broadening. I have some curiosities, but I still scream "I cannot go there." I am not saying no and I am not saying yes.

As I finish this story I have two problems. I have admitted to myself earlier this week that I am falling in love with Tim. I will remain in the wings while hoping to gain his attention. Though I could not admit it to anyone who knows me, I could be happy to be his wife if it was not for his sexual interests. Is he is really not just another Wyatt? Yet, he has not been reading stories about cheating. He reads about husbands and wives participating in an open lifestyle within a romantic trusting framework. My heart says he is not like Wyatt. My heart says I could do some of what he is seeking. Yet my mind is not as certain. Fortunately, I have avenues like this to work through aloud my thoughts. Also, I still have time to work these out.

The other is more vexing. As I noted I did not get around to killing the email account on Friday night. When I got back from bowling I totally forgot about it. The next morning Kara and I went to a book reading in Baltimore. Again killing the account was not on my mind until Monday afternoon as I was cleaning out my office emails. I remembered. No problem, big problem. That night, I noticed a message from Rene arrived on Sunday. 

The message could open the relationship again. If I do not tell him, he will never know. Not telling him would be best I initially argued. Best for whom? Kara? Tim? Or me? Yet not telling him would not be honest and not a good basis for starting a lasting relationship. My dishonesty would always be in the back of my mind. Even if I decided not to pursue a relationship, I would not be true to Tim by not saying anything.

Would not telling Tim be fair to Rene? She would be forever wondering. It is true that if the box had been killed Friday night or Saturday morning she would still be left still left wondering. The difference is that I would not know. But I do know. Though I do not know her, not telling Tim would not be right to Rene. Also it creates issues within my own heart and mind regarding personal integrity. Though some would say, all is fare in love and war, I would disagree if one looses one's values and integrity. If I tell him, the risk is evident. 

Tim's comment New Years night that he regretted not having a closure, without an affirmation of their love and expressing their love in an intimate manner plays in my mind. Is such a closure necessary? He thinks so. I do not. Maybe his seeking of a closure would become an active affair. Maybe it would not. Maybe he has come to closure with turning control of the account to another. 

Should I tell Kara or remain silent? I could find myself in Peg's position of Peg. Peg knew about Wyatt's affairs but said nothing. Life really has a way of putting coming back upon you. It will hurt Kara if I tell her. Yet shielding her only to have her learn later will bring greater harm and pain. If Tim has an affair, I could shield Kara by helping Tim to cover his affair. An option, but I will not do so. 

When faced with a difficult and complex choice, Momma encouraged me to write down the background, problem and options. Momma would say it more often than not helps to focus to the mind. It is a good cathartic process. In doing this up I decided to share this summary with Kara. I did so two days ago. She encouraged me to post it to see if Tim would read it and connect the dots and say something to us. Those who are looking for story material could build erotic stories off my predicament and they are free to do so. For others who have wisdom in these matters may wish to offer their thoughts. To whom else can I tell my predicament but strangers or a therapist? 

Kara's reaction surprised me. No anger, no bitterness. Instead, a quiet smile came upon her face after saying, "I need to think on this for several days. You cannot withhold the news from him, but I want to think about how and when." Developing a relationship with Tim is a priority. I do not know if I should leave Rene hanging indefinitely. I am a woman problems of the heart.