A tale of romance by The Star

Lonely.

I couldn't believe how lonely I was. How alone I felt.

The only other time I'd felt that way, I let it lead me into the biggest mistake of my life-my first wife! So I set my jaw, wrestled my need for people to a draw, and continued on.

I must confess, my heart wasn't in it. After all, what's the use in pulling off a big business deal, or being chairman of a committee for a successful community event, if there's no one to share the victory?

Surrounded by natural beauty, I couldn't enjoy it, alone.

And the nights... The nights were the worst! More than once, I finally fell into an alcoholic stupor, unable to find rest any other way. My pain was real and enormous. For my wife-the love of my life-had left me.

One moment she was there, my Brenda, a warm fire at whose hearth I warmed my spirit. The next, she was gone. A little vessel in her brain couldn't handle its designed pressure, and killed her.

My anger and despair were enormous. My grief endless.

My loneliness was a bottomless chasm that I didn't know how to bridge.

I continued to work, but my heart wasn't in it.

My daughter stepped up and did what she could for me. Her reward was that I treated her like dirt. Bless her! She still drove the three hours each way to come see me every week and later, every month. Her husband-a very nice guy, really-wasn't thrilled about being left with the kids so much, but he understood. Kris had always been close to me and could feel my hurt. She said she had to do whatever she could to help.

Three years after my wife's death, I was finally able to come to terms with it. Kris saw the changes in me and started hinting, strongly, that I needed to get back into life. By that, she meant I needed to start dating and find some female companionship besides her. I just didn't know how somebody my age went about it. It had been an awfully long time...

"But Kris, there aren't any women around here as good looking as you. Why would I settle for less?" I teased her.

"I know I'm the most gorgeous creature in this part of the state," she teased back, though her words were true, "but Mike is getting a bit concerned about you and about the amount of time I'm taking away from him and the boys."

Actually, I was more healed than I thought. Unconsciously, I'd been checking out the 'available' ladies in our town-and wasn't impressed with the crop. While we had an unusually high percentage of beautiful women for a small town, the good ones were all married... or had something seriously wrong with them, like a drug problem, or room temperature I.Q. The most interesting single women in town were college girls-WAY too young for me.

In our banter, my bright daughter brought me to a process I should have considered long before, if I'd been conscious of the need. Basically, after hearing my litany of what was wrong with the available women in town, she asked me what I wanted in a woman. And by teasing and refusing to leave it alone until I'd thought it through, she led me through the initial stages of solving any problem: Define the problem and identify solutions.

She made me list, over a period of a few months, all the characteristics I felt were necessary in a woman I could be interested in. The end result was fascinating. This 'Dream Woman' had to have these traits and characteristics:

• While it wasn't necessary for her to be as drop dead gorgeous as Kris, she had to be substantially above average to look at.

• She should have superior intelligence.

• She had to have class and be a lady.

• It would be nice if she had some talent, some areas of expertise.

• She had to be fun to be around, witty, energetic, a leader; yet not 'pushy.'

• She could not be 'whiny.'

• She needed to be a woman of integrity.

• Yet she had to be free of prudish hangups.

• She had to be capable of loving deeply and forever.

• She had to be committed to an exclusive relationship.

By the time we'd gotten this far, Kris was impressed that I knew what I needed so well. "Well, Honey, your mom was a disaster, as you know. And Brenda was the love of my life. You're all I have left. Although you're my ideal woman in most ways-surely you're beautiful enough-we'd never make it as a couple, even if you weren't my daughter and already happily married... We'd be at each other's throats most of the time.

"I really love you. And I really appreciate the time you've given me. Even when I've been a total crab, I've enjoyed having you around. I love you more than anything. Thanks, Honey!"

"Thanks, Dad," Kris replied with tears in her eyes. "I love you too and wish I could do more for you. Being with you like this is good for me, because I'm able to repay a bit of the love and care you've given me all my life. But you need more. You need your own woman, as I've said from time to time."

"Yes, Kris," I said in a resigned tone. She had indeed said this before. "But how is a fifty-something guy like me going to find a superwoman like we've described? If such a woman exists in this town, she's been married for years. Or she's way too young and would only cause more problems."

"Have you looked around at church, Dad?" Kris asked.

"Yes. I have. We have some remarkably attractive ladies-all married. And some knockout high school and college girls, who are too young to even think about. The only single ladies otherwise are either too militant feminist for consideration or are widows older than I am...

"That's pretty much true of the whole town. There are some knockout ladies, but they're disqualified on other counts-age or marital status"

"Don't give up, Dad. Now that we know what we need to do, we can start working on how to get from here to there.

"And Dad... remember what you taught me? Don't forget to pray!"

The truth is, I didn't seriously consider finding another women at that point. I could live with the loneliness. And the things I'd said about a shortage of suitable ladies in our town were all true. If one came along, wonderful. If not, I'd survive.

Kris, of course, had other ideas. If it weren't for Mike, I think she'd have moved in with me-including into my bed-just to ease my pain and loneliness. She knows I consider her to be the ideal girl, in terms of basic package. And we love each other a lot.

But what she really had in mind all along, was her college roommate and best friend, Miriam.

She and Miriam had gone through a similar exercise. Miriam had endured a brief but disastrous marriage with an ex-military guy she'd met after she graduated from college. When she finally kicked the bum out, she'd gone to Kris for a shoulder to cry on. At one point in her grieving and healing process, Miriam had cried, "All I want is to be married to a good man who will love me! Why is that too much to ask?"

From that point, Kris led her through the process, like she had me later, of listing just what she wanted in a man and what she couldn't tolerate.

Much later, Kris told me that the profile of Miriam's ideal man fit me like a $3,000 suit. So Kris, being Kris, decided to see what she could do as a matchmaker with her dad and her best friend-is that kinky or what? I think, for Kris, it was the game as much as the idea of helping two people she was so very close to.

Over the next few months, when Kris talked me into visiting them, Miriam usually dropped by sometime during my visit. And twice, Kris brought her along when she visited me. I treated her like another daughter and respected her as Kris' closest friend, after Mike.

Kris and I had both gone to Pac-10 schools. I was disappointed when she chose not to follow me to Stanford, and attended Washington instead. She had a great time in college, though, and completed her degree successfully, so I can't complain. And of course, we've had some fun over the years about the relative merits of our schools' football programs. She's had more fun than I, <darn> but it has been interesting.

So when Stanford was playing in Seattle, she insisted that I join them for the game. Playing the role, I wore my letter jacket. (Yes, I can get into the letter jacket... Just don't ask me to button it.) When she and Mike swung by to pick me up, I was surprised to see Miriam in the coach; but it wasn't a big deal as, of course, she went to Washington too.

Our plan was to drive to Seattle on Friday, stay overnight, see the game Saturday, then stay over another night and come home on Sunday. Mike had a nice motorhome that we planned to use as our motel on wheels. The addition of Miriam complicated arrangements, but didn't throw a stick in the spokes. Kris just said we'd make up the dinette into a bed for Miriam, I'd sleep in the bunk over the cockpit and they would have their 'room' in the back.

On the trip north, Miriam and I got better acquainted. I knew her as Kris' friend. But I began to appreciate why she was her best friend. While her face wasn't that of a fashion model, she was more than just attractive. It kind of grows on you until the realization strikes that she isn't pretty-she's beautiful! Her slender but spectacular figure was set off by full, flowing dark brown hair that moved saucily with her like a fringe.

She had an established career marketing music and musical instruments for a national company: She had outside sales for the Pacific Northwest and did quite well with it. Of course, she was an accomplished musician.

And I soon found that she was still as wacky and witty as she'd been in college, though in a slightly more mature way.

I found myself drawn to this elfin girl and was, without being aware of it, doing and saying anything I could think of to keep her attention. (Kris and Mike were sitting up front, smirking as they saw their plan starting to work.)

We made our way to the campground just as dusk fell. While Mike and I were outside, hooking up the water, power and sewer, and leveling the rig, the girls started dinner.

When we were done with the 'man's work', we each popped a beer and settled into chairs to watch the ladies work.

After our meal, I was ready to crash, but the others wanted to visit a nightspot across the road from the campground. Letting myself be persuaded to go 'just for an hour or so', I went along.

The place, I found, wasn't just a saloon, but had a band and good-sized dance floor. It was also cleaner and more pleasant than I expected from its exterior. Right after we got a table and ordered a round of drinks, Mike and Kris hit the floor. Miriam waited until the next song, then when she saw that I wasn't going to ask her, asked me if I would dance with her.

"Miriam," I said with a look of panic, "I don't know how to dance like this! If they do any slow dancing, I'd be delighted."

"Nonsense!" she snorted. "Any idiot can do this. You just get out there and move to the music. You don't even have to have a partner."

"But," I rejoined, "I always thought the idea was to get your hands on each other, without getting slapped."

"That's what the slow dances are for," she giggled. Grabbing my hand, she yanked me to my feet and propelled me to the floor.

I just kind of shuffled and undulated to the beat. I was entranced. Miriam on a dance floor is a spectacle. Guys all over the room were soon watching her and not paying much attention to their own partners. At the end of the song, Miriam just looked at my face and laughed.

"Bill, you look like you ate a bug!" she said, giggling in her enchanting way.

Snapping out of it, I took her hand and said, "Don't think so, but I wouldn't know if I had." Which set off more giggles.

The band went into a slow dance set then and I took her into my arms. This is the kind of dancing I know about. She moved like a professional dancer, anticipating me perfectly. Slender, but with marvelous breasts, Miriam seemed so light in my arms I almost couldn't tell she was there. If it were not for the girl shape pressed against me, I'd have wondered what I was doing.

After a couple of minutes dancing like friends, she gave a little sigh and kind of relaxed against me, her mouth coming to rest below my right ear and the rest of her just sort of pasted onto the front of me.

Naturally, this produced an instant reaction from the primary indicator of my gender. I tried to pull away from her in embarrassment, but Miriam would have none of it. "Don't you dare back away!" she whispered, running a hand behind my head and clutching me tight. "I'd have been checking out my equipment if that hadn't happened. Please? Hold me?"

Of course I was more than happy to, though our dancing turned to shuffling and swaying to the music while my body started to learn the feel of the marvelous shape pressed against it.

When the set ended and the band resumed hip hop, we returned to our table. Kris later told me we both had sappy, dreamy expressions on our faces. A little more conversation, another slow dance set, and two hours had gone by. We finished our drinks and left.

Getting ready for bed was 'interesting'. On the ride north, I suggested that maybe I should get a motel room, but Mike wouldn't hear of it. "This expensive machine is supposed to sleep six and there are only four of us. With a little consideration for each other, we'll be fine."

The problem was that there was no privacy curtain between my bunk, which just swung down, and the dinette where Miriam was to sleep. I changed for bed while Miriam was changing in the tiny bathroom. But to get to her bed, Miriam had no way to avoid giving me quite a nice show of her incredible body in a short, semi-opaque nightie. Spectacular!

Breakfast was preceded by another great show of spectacular bodies-Kris' as well as Miriam's. Kris decided not to dress for the day until after we'd eaten and saw no need to change out of her nightie in front of her father, her husband and her college roommate who had all seen her in less many times. Miriam changed while Kris was cooking, but not until Mike and I both had an eyeful.

We all had a great time at the game-Stanford won for a change!-and of course, I had to remind everyone-often-who won the day's game, which finally led Kris to threaten to have me wear dinner rather than eat it. We had rented a car to get to the game and went out to dinner, followed by a visit to the nightclub again.

I can get used to dancing with Miriam!

During our ride home, Miriam and I were again forced into a 'couple' by the configuration of Mike's coach. As we chatted, she brought up the subject of her ex-husband, Carl. It seems that although they were only together for a few months and have been divorced for several years, he is still obsessive about her. Her social life is pretty tame and mostly limited to events with close friends like this weekend. Nevertheless he has threatened her, found out about her infrequent dates, and sometimes even threatened the men who date her.

In spite of a restraining order, she has been forced to install elaborate security systems in her apartment and has called the police on more than one occasion when he's been stalking her, or at her apartment door.

When I asked why she didn't just move away, she replied, "Because I don't want to give him the satisfaction. I grew up in that town and I won't let him run me out!" Then, with what I was coming to see as her irrepressible giggle, "Besides, it is only a little hassle for me, but it's a lot of hassle for him. Think: He's eating himself up over nothing!"

I can't help but admire her spunk and attitude, but the situation disturbed me. This guy sounded dangerous. Kris and her family were at risk, too.

When we talked about work, she described what she did and how she really enjoyed traveling around the northwest. In fact, she would be in Portland most of next week, so we arranged that I would meet her on Saturday and we would go out. She'd even get me a room in the Red Lion, so I wouldn't face a long late night drive home. We exchanged business cards and I got her cell phone number, so we could tie up loose ends later.

By the time we arrived at my house, we had become friends in our own right and were both really looking forward to the next weekend. As I got off the motorhome, Miriam gave me a little kiss and thanked me for being such good company. "Believe me, the pleasure is mine!" I assured her. Thanking Mike and Kris, I waved them out of sight and went into my home to see what I'd missed while I'd been gone.

My house, which I'd built for Brenda, was a lovely home atop a ridge overlooking the west valley and coast range of Oregon. Larger than we had really needed, we'd loved the place, since it was a good house for entertaining and had room for overnight guests. The ground floor had space for a large office suite for me.

With Brenda's death, entertaining had come to a halt. Other than my secretary and a housekeeper who came in one day a week, I seldom saw outsiders in my home anymore. Besides Kris, of course. My work was done by phone and FAX, and visits to customers' sites.

Friends and neighbors respected my grief and seldom came by. I'd withdrawn from most of the church and civic activities I'd been in before.

So that Sunday afternoon, I entered a large, cold, empty house. My loneliness hit me hard. After checking for messages in the office, I nuked a TV dinner, poured a beer, and dressed for bed. I'd watch football on the bedroom tube and go to sleep.

That short weekend in good company and little bit of warmth from Miriam made my lonely existence harder to bear than ever.

During the week, I found myself working hard to catch up all the details on clients' projects. When I caught myself doing it, I realized that I was "clearing the deck" for the coming weekend when I'd see Miriam again. I could hardly believe it. I was acting like a high school kid, going on a date with a cheerleader, or something. After all, we were just friends. She was my daughter's best friend, after all. Come off it, Bill!

At any rate, on Thursday, Miriam called to say she was at the Hilton, downtown, instead of the Red Lion. She had reserved a room for me for Saturday night, as we'd planned. We agreed that I'd come on in to town when I finished my other chores on Saturday and call or leave a message for her as soon as I was checked in.

Friday, I worked myself and my secretary into the ground. Then I mowed some grass, had dinner, a shower and to bed.

Saturday morning I woke rested and eager. 'Bill, you're a basket case. This is a girl, you idiot! Just barely older than jail bait. You're really making an ass of yourself, if you can't straighten yourself out.'

Didn't help.

Since Portland is only a couple of hours away and I didn't want to arrive too early, I fixed myself breakfast, cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen; then another shower and a shave, pack a small bag for overnight, and away I went. I still got there well before lunch. Idiot!

When I checked into the hotel, I was surprised to find that I was already checked in and prepaid. By now I was starting to get a bit confused. Then, in the room, I found a sheet of paper on the bed. The note on it said,

Welcome.

I'm so very glad you could come.

Please knock on the door to your left,

when you've put up your bags.

Miriam.

Glancing to my left, I saw a connecting door to the room next to mine. So I put my bag on the stand, my coat in the closet, and ran a comb through my hair.

Stepping to the door, I knocked. Miriam opened it immediately and followed with a big hug. I was really getting confused. I couldn't tell if the signals I was getting were from Miriam, or my libido. I hadn't expected adjoining rooms. And I hadn't expected Miriam to even be around until sometime in the late afternoon. Instead, she seemed to have plotted in advance to have me next to her and was awaiting my arrival, whenever that might be.

Why?

I mean, I was flattered, but this girl is almost 25 years younger than I am. I'm not a business associate or potential customer. Why so much attention for a simple evening out with a friend?

Meanwhile, she was saying, "I'm so glad you came early. I hoped you would. Do you have anything you have to do today? Or can we spend the day together?"

With a bemused look on my face-and I guess in my voice, I said, "Oh, I'm at your disposal today. I didn't expect to see you until late afternoon, but if you're free, of course I'd like to spend the day with you."

And what man wouldn't? While she wasn't dressed in 'business clothes, ' she wasn't into the 'college girl' look of the prior weekend, either. Rather, she was a classy lady-relaxed and informal-but classy.

After a moment when we each just looked at the other and decided we were content to be together, we simultaneously asked, "What would you like to do?" then burst into laughter. Or that delightful giggle, in Miriam's case.

Miriam truly didn't have any preferences. So I said I'd like to look at boats-or yachts. Brenda hated the water, so we never had a boat. I wasn't sure I really wanted one, but thought it might be fun to look. Miriam enjoyed water-swimming and water skiing-and thought looking at boats would be fun. So we did. Since it was a lovely Saturday in the fall, a lot of boat people were out on the water. They are an interesting lot. We chatted non-stop about boats and 'land yachts', as I call the bigger motorhomes. About her business and mine. About what she enjoys and what I like...

For the evening, I'd made a reservation at one of my favorite restaurants. It's gone now, but it had an unusual atmosphere and great food. The owner was the son of one of my college classmates, so I was always treated well there. This night was no exception. The food was great, the conversation sparkled, and the company was outstanding. I hadn't had so much fun in years.

When we left, I asked Miriam what she wanted to do next. She wanted to dance, so we made our way to her favorite nightclub. The place was packed, but she knew the ma"tre d' and got us a tiny table near the dance floor.

Once again, I found myself attempting modern dancing with Miriam. I think I was the oldest guy in the place, but I was having fun. Watching Miriam dance is always fun. Being her partner is even more fun. She looked at me with a mock-concerned expression. "Poor baby. All of this bouncing must be hard on you. Cheer up. They play slow dances here, too."

I wasn't unhappy, but that made me more cheerful. Sure enough, the next set was slow, and I once again held this marvelous woman in my arms.

This time, she just came right up against me, with both arms around my neck, leaving me to put both arms around her. WOW!!! I was the envy of every guy in the joint. In the back of my head a tiny voice was saying, 'Why me? Why is she doing this?' But the rest of me was just enjoying the moment.

When the first song in the set ended, I turned to look at her face and found her eyes about two inches from mine. What else could I do? I kissed her-softly, gently, without passion but with more than friendship-discovery, maybe? When the music resumed, her mouth returned to its place below my ear and her body was even more relaxed against mine.

We danced and talked for another couple of hours. When we'd both had enough of the club, we returned, happy, to the Hilton. Going up in the elevator, Miriam said, "I'm having such a good time, I really don't want this to end. Would you join me for a nightcap?"

"Sure," I answered. "Do you want to go to the bar?"

"No. I have a bottle in my room. Give me five minutes, then knock on the door?"

Things were moving awfully fast and I didn't know just what she was offering. So I decided to take it as it came. This was not a passive thing. I really enjoyed this woman and wanted very much to develop a relationship with her. She was, after all, Kris' best and closest friend, which, in itself, was as high a recommendation as anyone could have. She wasn't playing games with me. I could be sure of that. And I could be sure that I wouldn't play games with her-for Kris' sake as well as hers. So I'd give positive responses to any signals and hope for the best.

I spent the five minutes washing my face, hanging up my jacket and tie, and changing shoes for loafers. About the time I figured five minutes were up, there was a knock on the door. When I opened it, Miriam gave me a big grin and giggled that she didn't want me to be late. As if a minute mattered.

She'd shed the really cute cocktail dress she'd been wearing, let her hair down and was in a nice dressing gown. Opaque, but definitely not street wear. Seating me on the sofa in her room, she said, "I'm having white wine. But there's whisky if you'd prefer?"

"Wine will be great." It was just an excuse to spend more time with her anyway, and I didn't want to get blasted.

Giving me a glass, she put hers on the coffee table and sat beside me. I could see she had shed her nylons, too. Is this a seduction, or is she just that comfortable with me?

As if reading my mind, Miriam snuggled up to me, causing my arm to go around her reflexively. Looking me in the eyes, she said, "Bill, I know I'm coming on to you pretty strong. I like you a lot. And I think this may turn into a serious relationship.-What a crappy term: 'serious relationship.' This is already serious!-I'm very attracted to you. So at this point, the choice is yours. We can drink our wine and chat a bit before you go back through that door to sleep. Or you can kiss me and we'll see where it goes from there."

Running through my mind at warpspeed was the thought that the constraints on her because of her relationship with Kris were equally valid on me. She was my only child's best friend. And that not only made her a lot younger than I am, but if I messed it up too bad, I might mess up my relationship with Kris, too.

I'm not into casual sex. She needed to know that, because if she just wanted to get laid, I was not her guy.

"Miriam, I'm impressed and immensely flattered. You need to know something though: I'm not interested in a one-night stand. If we start something, I will want it to continue. And I have trouble picturing you being really interested in an on-going thing with a guy as old as I am... So where does that leave us?" I asked.

Her reply, breathed into my mouth was, "Right where I hoped. Here. In each other's arms." And my mouth was attacked with the most passionate kiss I'd experienced in a long time. Too long. 'Kris is right, ' my little hind-brain said. 'You've needed this.' Then it all shut down as I concentrated on making love to this dream creature in my arms.

While my arms tightened around her, pulling her upper body to me, our tongues dueled as our kiss became more demanding. Breaking off, I began to kiss her eyes, nose, forehead, while her hands caressed my ears and ran through my hair. My hands were shaping the back of her body, tracing the marvelous curves from shoulder to waist to hip. Little whimpering sounds came from her just before she kissed me again, hard, almost savagely.

Pulling back slightly, she attacked the buttons on my shirt in a controlled frenzy. "Bill. Oh Bill! How I want you!" she panted. "I've wanted you for weeks." My shirt came undone, and was ripped from my waistband. As the T-shirt was pulled up, she continued, in a low, rapid voice, "I talked Kris into bringing me along last weekend, so we could be together. And the motorhome was my idea, too." My shirt was gone over my head and tossed into a corner. Now she was working on my belt. "Kris mentioned a few months ago that the only man she knew who met my criteria was you-but you were too old!" The belt was gone and the button about to surrender. "I decided you weren't too old as far as I was concerned!" The fly was down, and she was tugging hard to get pants and shorts off of me. "Are you too old for me?" she asked.

"I devoutly hope not," I answered, holding her slightly away from me by putting my hands on her shoulders and pushing gently. "If we're going to do this, let's do it in comfort and style. There's a nice big bed, right there, instead of this cramped couch. And I'm anxious to unwrap you, too. Shall we?" I stood, and my trousers promptly fell around my ankles and were kicked off, with the loafers.

When I gave her my hand, she rose gracefully, allowing her wrap to fall open. (I don't remember how it came undone or who did it.) Underneath was just Miriam. With a groan, I took her in my arms again, my hands around her waist under the gown, her arms around my neck. We kissed again with growing passion as I reveled in the sensation of her skin against mine.