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She had on a white blouse with short sleeves and an open collar. For an accent, she wore a red bandana around her neck. She had her new Gucci prescription sunglasses pushed up on her head and gold studs in her ears with her Rolex watch worn loosely on her wrist. Although she still did not wear make-up to work, she had become quite adept at applying make-up for the evenings and a lighter touch for this afternoon. I could not have been prouder of her if she had been elected the first woman president.I was going back to the university the next week and was worried about Mom. Mr. Right had not come along, so we have been having sex two or three times a week. Bill stopped by a few times, and we went out and met a few folks from the University for drinks and flirted with the girls. When we returned the first time, Mom asked him if he had a girlfriend. Bill said he had met someone. I had to turn away to stifle a laugh when I saw the disappointed look on her face.I would be living on campus. Mostly it was once or twice a week, she would turn up at my flat after she had closed for the night, wake me up give me a good fucking (she almost always was on top) and then depart. A couple of times she stayed the night and would still be there when I got home for lunch.One night when Trixie was lying next to me, she did mention that Marcia was seeing Joy. I tried to get a bit more from Trixie, but she said she had promised not to say anything to me. However Ivan heard through Tom, that indeed Marcia was seeing Joy and sometimes stayed overnight out at her farm for the weekend. Riding the horses, and Joy I guess. The affair with Trixie ended when I met a lady, who eventually became my first wife. Once I was courting her, I broke it to Trixie that I had met someone special and would not be able to see her any more. She was quite alright about it and said to pop in sometimes and that she would like to remain friends. But I actually never saw her again.The other episode is more.
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She had a very elegant, ladylike way of walking. She looked like a calm personat all times. There is a piece of footage I watched many times, no sound atall (shot from a car at the opposite side of the street, no need for soundrecording), Karen crossing the street and wind wrapping her skirt around herlegs dressed in black stockings and elegant high-heeled shoes. There was somethingdeeply poetic in the way she looked around at one point, stopping in the middleof the street, the wind playing with her hair. She looked almost directly intothe camera, the expression on her face as if she was trying to make somethingout, so delicate. And then she just continued walking. There was so much significancein those fifteen seconds, so much to see and imagine and analyse. I watchedit countless times. I read her email. I downloaded photos from her hard disk at home, photos of her taken by peopleI didn't know. Photos of her with people, male and female, I didn't know. We didn't need to know them..

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