In the course of our discussion, she made it known in not-so-subtle ways that she herself was also single. I ordered myself a drink, and Karen ordered herself another cocktail, and the two of us sat and talked to one another as if there were no one else in the world but us. She just seemed to me to be so - domestic in nature. Even though she didn’t wear a ring or anything, I guess I always pictured her as being somebody’s wife. Besides, I had no idea whether or not she was single. Things like that get complicated however when you are dealing with coworkers, and while there was no express rule in our office against dating coworkers, it just seemed like something that I should avoid if possible.
#A CUP OF SUGAR STORY FANTASY FEEDER FREE#
Now, you would think that as much as I was enamored with Karen that I would have made a move to try and ask her out the moment that I became a free agent. I suppose it wasn’t exactly something I was looking to brag about either. It was true as kind and as cordial as we all were with one another, we really had no time to pontificate about our personal lives in the day-to-day ongoings around our office.
“Well, I guess you and I never really had an opportunity until now to talk about it.” “Oh, Drew,” she said, putting a hand on my shoulder, “I’m so sorry. “Things hadn’t been right with us for a while, and we both just decided it was time to move on.” “Oh, it was about four months ago I guess,” I replied, not really wanting to talk about it, but accepting the fact that I really needed to. She turned quickly to look at me, apparently shocked by what I’d said. “Oh, we broke up a while ago,” I said to her. “So, how’s Sandra?” she said to me at one point, turning to take another modest sip from her fruity drink. I felt my mouth go dry as I started to speak, but soon we were talking face to face, and it felt wonderful. She was wearing a well-fitted business suit accented by a very short skirt that showcased her stunningly statuesque legs perfectly. Karen looked even more delectable than usual that night: her thick light brown locks cascading down the sides of her face, brushing over her shoulders like sheets of gossamer hung up to blow in the breeze her piercing hazel eyes glistening in the dim light of the barroom, her pug little nose and her soft little lips beckoning me with their sweetness. Her face was flush and her voice was several decibels louder than normal. “Come on over and sit with us!” She was her usual cheerful self, but I could tell that the alcohol was hitting her already. “Drew!” I heard her call to me as I walked into the lounge that evening. If she did tag along, she would only stay for a few minutes to be polite, and she wouldn’t drink anything except for maybe a ginger ale. People from the office would often go out for drinks after work, but she would seldom join us. I was surprised because I never knew her to be a drinker. On the last night that we were there, I was surprised to see Karen down in the bar, chatting with some of the girls as she sipped on what looked like a piña colada. We were all staying at the same small and modestly-priced hotel nearby, and so naturally after the day’s big meeting we would all congregate at the hotel bar for some drinks to unwind at the end of the day. We were just a couple of hours outside of town at some little convention center in the middle of nowhere. That’s why what happened a week ago at our business conference was so shocking, and would change the way that I see her forever. She never has an unkind word to say to anyone, she’s constantly baking things and bringing them in for everyone, and she just radiates goodness. Perhaps I am exaggerating a little bit, but the reality is that Karen Brenner is the sweetest young lady in our office, and I am completely smitten with her. The moment she walks through the front doors to the office every morning the whole place brightens up birds will be singing, music fills the air and sunshine and rainbows abound everywhere you look.
Not too tall, not too short, and more than a little pudgy always smiling, always cheerful, she is without a doubt the prototypical wholesome and corn-fed, all-American girl next door.
She’s the kind of sweet that’s almost unbearable, the sort that I might have gone out of my way to avoid if I didn’t like her so darn much.
0 kommentar(er)
