Looking back on my life, I realize that we are all products of our experiences, but certain events are more pivotal than others. When questioned, most people would say the most important things were things planned, like college, marriage, and children. Whereas those are indeed important, I think the course of my life has been defined more by the little things, like a chance meeting, or unexpected event.
I guess I should start my story from the beginning. My name is Carol. I was the only daughter of a high-ranking Army Officer, and admittedly, I was spoiled to the core as a child. In our house, my mother was the disciplinarian. I found out early on I could twist my dad around my finger. In almost every situation he would side with me. I learned, as I grew, that men were but putty in my hands. All it took was a little pout or a tear.
My story actually begins long before I met the love of my life. Although my family came from 'old' money, I lived the first ten years of my life traveling from one duty station to another. My father, Jim, retired from the Army, and was discharged in California. He became a well respected banker, and we lived a prestigious life.
I was put into private schools - first elementary, middle, and later prep-school. Their plan for my schooling mirrored my mother's early education. My mother, Mary, was always a role-model for me.
Mom was a truly beautiful woman and would usually be the center of attention when she walked into a room. She always took care of herself and looked much younger than her actual age. I looked a lot like her, and when I turned seventeen, people would always remark how we looked like sisters. She actually had me dress like her sometimes when we went out. It was fun.
After I got my period, my parents decided it was prudent to move me to a prep-school for sixteen-and-older girls. It wasn't that far from where we lived, but I still stayed in a dormitory and came home on weekends. The thinking was that without boys around, I would be able to concentrate on my education. The theory was 'out of sight, out of mind.'
If they thought putting a bunch of horny, hormonal girls in the same place would take their minds off sex, they were wrong. Almost every girl in there, including me, was practicing kissing with one another. Some became real experts at pleasuring other girls. My best friend Sally and I had many adventures, but that's another story.
Even though I was a virgin, I knew I was a very sexual person. When I was a senior and close to graduation, I remember getting out of the shower and standing in front of my full-length mirror evaluating myself. I think that was the first time I fully realized how attractive I was. I really had no idea at the time how much power that would give me in my life. As unfair as it seems, beauty opens many doors.
My graduation was not a big deal, but I was glad to be out of that woman's prison. It meant I would have the whole summer off to do what I wanted before I started college. Here I was, eighteen years old and had never gone on a date, except for when I went to the prom, but that didn't count because my parents made me go with my pimple-faced cousin.
***********
I had gone to the store that fateful August day to help mom with the shopping. Helping around the house was preferable to getting a job. She had a bridge club meeting and I wanted to get out of the house.
Just as I was about to enter the store, I saw, or should I say heard, this old sports car sputtering to a stop. The driver was cursing at his jalopy, and kicked the door because it wouldn't stay closed. It was so funny. Then I got a look at him. He kind of looked like Tom Cruise in Top Gun, wearing a leather jacket and aviation sunglasses. When he took his sunglasses off, he looked like a model, with a square jaw and high cheekbones. Then he saw me and grinned, but I turned back quickly and went into the store, embarrassed.
After picking up most of the things I needed, I was in the canned vegetable isle when I heard this masculine voice say, "Excuse me, miss." I turned, and was looking my mystery man in the face. He seemed to be a bit unnerved.
"Can I help you?" I replied, staring up into his steel blue eyes.
For some reason, he didn't respond right away, but then he asked, "I... I wonder if you might help me?"
"With what?" I replied.
"I'm new in town and not familiar with this store. I could use a hand in finding things."
"I might be able to help. Where's your list?"
"Well... I really don't have one. I'm not much of a cook, and was thinking of fixing something... Italian. Do you have any suggestions, Miss?"
"First of all, my name is not 'Miss,' it's Carol, and I would be happy to help a fellow shopper in need."
"Thanks, Carol. You're sweet to help. My name is Chuck." He extended his hand and I did a finger shake.
"Okay, Chuck, let's find you something Italian. We can't let you go hungry, can we?" I smiled.
Now I was probably the last person in this whole store you would ask about cooking. I barely passed Home Ed class. The closest I come to cooking Italian is ordering a pizza from Round Table, with extra pepperoni. However, I went along with it because he fascinated me. We played this game where I was suggesting all kinds of things for him to buy, and he put them in his basket while we talked and got to know one another. As we talked, the basket filled.
I found out he was twenty-nine, and just got out of the Army, where he was a helicopter pilot. I told him I was college bound. He told me he was starting a business. I told him I went to an all-girls school, and he told me he had graduated from Berkley... Finally, we ran out of room in his basket, and he confessed.
"I really didn't need help with a recipe. I just had to talk with you. You're the prettiest girl I've ever laid my eyes on."
"Awww, that is sweet, but I have something to confess too. Just so you know, I can't cook." We laughed like there was no tomorrow.
"I suppose a girl as pretty as you has a boy friend?"
"Actually, I'm between relationships right now," I lied. I didn't want him to know that I had never been on a real date before.
"I have an idea. Since I am new in town and neither one of us can cook, how about I take you out for Italian dinner and a movie?"
"Yes! When?" I replied, maybe a bit too quickly.
"How about seven tonight?"
"Tonight?" I asked, a bit panicked.
"Well... We both have to eat, and Italian sounds good, doesn't it?"
"True, that does sound good. Then seven is perfect! I have to go home and get ready," I replied, and turned to leave, flashing him my sexiest smile.
"Uhhh... Carol. You're forgetting something."
"What?" I said, looking around.
"Well, I might not be able to pick you up tonight..."
My heart sank. I knew it was too good to be true.
He continued, "Unless you give me your address and phone number."
I shuffled through my purse, looking for something to write on. I grabbed this napkin out of my purse with lipstick smudged on it and wrote out the information. He kissed my hand when I gave it to him, like in the movies.
"I'll see you at seven," he called out as I quickly walk away.
'Geeez... I wrote on a used napkin. How lame,' I thought to myself, hustling to the car.
Rushing out the store, thinking about all that I had to do, I totally forgot the basket of groceries sitting in the aisle. I went through my mental to-do list. I had to do my hair, pick a dress, put on makeup, and decide what pair of shoes to wear. There was so much to do and so little time. On the drive home, I thought this wasn't going to be easy to pull off, especially with my dad. He will go ballistic when he finds out I'm going out with a guy almost thirty.
I sprinted into the house. My mother was in the sitting room, talking with several older ladies.
I ran up to her and said, "Mom! I need to talk with you!"
"In a minute dear, I am busy," my mom replied.
"Now!" I said, pulling her arm.
She stood up and announced to the ladies, "Excuse me, I apparently have an urgent matter to attend to."
I explained the whole story to her, sparing no details.
"You can't go out with a man you just met an hour ago! And that is final. It is not safe!" she said, resolutely.
Then I cried. I knew that would soften her. It always did. I begged through my tears, "You have to meet him and at least give him a chance. You will see. Please Mom, please, please, please."
"Alright, we will talk with him, but I can't promise anything," my mom relented.
"Yes!!" I exclaimed, with a fist pump, and ran up the steps to my bedroom to get ready.
************ I was so excited to finally get out of this prison and go on a date. I knew it would be a miracle if my folks let me go. So I prayed. I never pray, but I thought God might listen to this one, because I don't ever bother him.
"Oh God, I pray that you will soften my parents hearts and let them say I can go out with Chuck. If you do, I will take it as a sign. I pray in Jesus' name... Oh, and could you help me pick out the right outfit?"
I took my shower and washed my hair and put it in rollers. Then, I walked in front of my full-length mirror and examined myself, as I often do. It was fascinating how much my body changed in the last three years. I remember how I thought I would never get boobs. Now, I have these full breasts that are like foreigners to my body. My nipples were sensitive to the touch, even if I was the only one touching them. My parents had sent me to an orthodontist when I was younger and that gave me a pearly white smile.
Conceited or not, I knew who I was, and had confidence in myself. I am also grateful I got my mom's rich, thick brunette hair, even though it is a pain to brush. I hadn't ever had it cut, so it was almost to my waist. My legs seem long, though I'm only five-two. All those years of running cross-country paid off, giving me my perfect butt, which I consider my best asset.
I finally decided on this cute yellow summer dress. It fit perfectly - tight in all the right places, and showing just the right amount of cleavage. I hardly ever put on makeup, but I applied some eyeliner and used a red-orange lip gloss. My only pair of heels finished it off. If I was a guy, I'd think I was hot.
I was taking my hair out of rollers when I heard Chuck's car sputter up the driveway. The door-bell rang. I looked at the clock. He was fifteen minutes early. I was so nervous, and strained to hear what was being said. All I could hear was mumbling. Then... I heard laughing. It was my miracle! Could it be possible they actually liked him?
