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Do you remember your first love?  Did it leave a lasting impression on you?  Enjoy this short story.  Hopefully, your experience was just as memorable.    

Love is a tricky thing.  And first loves are the trickiest of all.

I remember my first love.  Her name was Mrs. Diane Karl.  She lived two house down from ours.  I was fourteen at the time.  After school, when I was not playing sports or had to study with my study group, I went home.  I would spend the evenings earning money by doing chores for neighbors on our street.  The amount of things they gave me to do could have kept me busy all day for a year.  Luckily, I could only commit to a few hours each evening.  That was for most neighbors.

Mrs. Karl was not most neighbors.  She paid me for my work the way other neighbors had.  But somewhere along the line she began giving me a hug before I left for home.  That’s when I started to make sure that she was the last house I went by before riding my bike home.

One evening there was a nasty rain storm.  She paid me and I was about to leave.  I went outside to get on my bike.  But, the lightning and thunder and heavy rains made it impossible for me to leave.  She offered to give me and my bike a ride home in her SUV.  Instead, I called my mother and told her I would wait at Mrs. Karl’s until the rain stopped.  She said as long as it was okay with Mrs. Karl.  I told Mrs. Karl this.  She reached for the phone and talked with my mother.  She told my mother she would give me a ride if the rain did not let up.

While I waited she gave me fresh baked cupcakes.  I still remember there was caramel in the center of them with chocolate icing.  The caramel was gooey and warm.  I had eaten two cupcakes when she asked the question that changed my life.

“Do you know licking that cupcake in the middle is a lot like kissing?” she asked.

My throat became dry.  Things went blank after that.

Mrs. Karl was forty years old.  She was beautiful.  She had light brown hair with green eyes and red lips.  Her body was nice and shapely.  She looked like a movie star.

Before I could gather my thoughts she had kissed me on the mouth.  Not just once, many times.  She was gentle with me.  My heart was ready to explode.  She talked low and sweet to me to calm me down.

The next thing I knew we were making love.  Well, I wasn’t making love.  She was making love to me.

My mind was in a state of confusion when her husband walked in on us.  He started yelling and coming toward us when she shot him.  If it were not for her quick thinking I would have been dead.  If she had not had the gun within reach while she was making love to me things would have been different.

She told me what to tell the police.  I could not remember how everything happened.  She went over it with me many times before she called the police.  She said that it was best if we left out the love making part.  So, I did.

Our affair went on for three years after that.  She eventually moved.  The day she moved I was both sad and glad.  I missed her greatly.  But, I wanted to date girls my age.

A year later I heard her new husband attempted to hurt her, too.  Once again, she had to defend herself.


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