I found her. She was not overseas, but living in Springfield, Virginia in a house, as I say, next do

H olly Brayton Inder was born on Friday, April 21, 1961 in Okinawa, Japan. She grew up mostly overseas, although her parents owned a house in Springfield, Virginia. To this day Holly lives next door to her parents.
I met her in in Washington, D.C. on Monday, November 25, 1985 at around 10:00 in the morning. She was 24 and I was 30. We had a couple of dates. I found her beautiful, vivacious and yes, charming, though at the time her charm had all of the sweet, naive arrogance of a shapely, 24 year-old brunette whose attractiveness to men is in no question. I fell in love with her, despite her gentle warning that I should not.
Holly only loved herself and her own family, and as far as I know those are still the only people she loves. Holly was sexually active beginning at age 19, but boyfriends were always kept at arm's length, so to speak. She loved sex, but refused to make an emotional commitment to any man. Men were just recreation to her. Sex was just a fun game; only her family was important. When I first met Holly, during the mid-Reagan years, the most important person in her life was her mother.
By the time she was 26, Holly decided she wanted to have a baby. It was the old "biological clock" bullshit we used to hear about, until our generation's women either luxury sports car rentals satisfied that itch or got too old to worry about it anymore.
luxury sports car rentals Of course to achieve that end, she needed a means. luxury sports car rentals So she married a British idiot she met in Monrovia, Liberia named James Inder. By the summer of 1987 he had knocked her up. Then Holly had what she wanted, a pregnancy. She was pregnant at her wedding, which took place on December 30, 1987, in Monrovia. On that very same day, on another continent, (Europe) I got married to my own first wife, Chris. It was an amazing luxury sports car rentals coincidence: neither Holly nor I knew what the other one was doing that day. Holly's first daughter, Jessica, was born on Saturday, May 14, 1988, the very same day I flew out of Washington, D.C. for San Diego, California to begin my first "home leave" luxury sports car rentals as an employee of the U.S. Department of State, also Holly's employer.
H olly and I bumped into each other at the State Department in Washington one morning in the early spring of that year. She had just returned from Africa and I had just returned from Europe. We had both been married (to other people) for less than three months. She was seven months pregnant. luxury sports car rentals We hugged, smiled and showed each other our wedding rings. Later that spring, just before Jessi was born, I had dinner in Warrenton, Virginia with Holly and her husband James, who was so nondescript that I can remember neither what he looked like, nor anything he said.
I did not see Holly again until 1994, but she was always lurking somewhere in my heart. That year I saw her again in Washington, luxury sports car rentals having myself just returned from Moscow. She was in town to have yet another baby, this time her third. Her son James Mason Inder was born on August 1, 1994. He was an "accident," she told me, or as she put it, an "oops."
"But he was a nice 'oops,'" she added, smiling. When Mason was only about two or three weeks old, Holly and I went out and had dinner together. Shortly after that, she returned to La Paz, Bolivia, where she was stationed at the time. She brought the baby along to our dinner, luxury sports car rentals and her two daughters, Jessi and Sarah. Jessi was six at the time; Sarah was four. Holly, always practical, picked an Italian restaurant in Franconia, Virginia for us to dine at, Ristorante Paradiso. It's still there as far as I know. Holly picked it because it had a play area for children. After Jessi and Sarah had eaten, they went off to play and watch cartoons on the TV monitor while we adults talked. Mason slept next to his mother's feet.
Now, in August, 1994, I did not know that there was any trouble in Holly's marriage to Inder. I didn't ask and she didn't say. I assumed that because she kept having babies, it must have been a happy marriage.
It wasn't until 2001 that her divorce from Inder became a done deal. Upon arriving on the island of Guam for a tour of duty there which began just before 9/11, she promptly took up with one of the locals, a muscle-bound, Hollywood-handsome Chamorran ex-Marine dimwit named Frank Meno, who picked her up on a Guamanian road somewhere when her car broke down and he offered "help." When telling me this story, she made a point of mentioning that she was barefoot when she met Meno on that road. (Holly likes to go barefoot.) Evidently Meno had a foot fetish: her bare feet made him horny, or so she implied. Holly has been told by others that she has a "sexual aura," and I can personally testify that she indeed does. In any case Meno, on the pretence of helping her with car trouble, saw an opportunity to get himself some nookie. He got it, and then some. They spent three years screwing all over Guam, usually on the beach, usually at night. I don't know what she told her small children about these nocturnal disappearances. Most likely she gave them some cock-and-bull story about being called into the office, then went off to frolic nude under the tropic moon with weight-lifter luxury sports car rentals Frank. Frank also wrote songs, none of which did I ever hear, which is probably just as well. I never heard of a weightlifter-lyricist; it's unlikely that Frank was the Alan Jay Lerner of the iron-pumping crowd. (That would not have mattered luxury sports car rentals to Holly, however: she never heard of Alan Jay Lerner. She once went to a Rolling Stones concert, then couldn't remember the name of the band. These two people were not PhDs in music or anything else, as far as I know.)
I found Holly again in 2008. She had left Guam four years earlier (abruptly abandoning poor old horny Frank.) I was living in Washington, D.C. I was married to my second wife, whose name was "Horrible," and our marriage was already in the sewer after less than three years. Horrible didn't like to share. She thought everything luxury sports car rentals in our marriage belonged to her, not us. "My house." "My pizza." "My this." "My that."(Also, luxury sports car rentals she never cleaned up after herself, and she ate like a pig.)
H ow did I come to find Holly again? Well, it was partly because one day I got lost. I was out riding my bicycle on the Northwest Branch bike trail in Hyattsville, Maryland, and I got lost. While I was trying to find my way back, I thought of Holly. She just popped into my head. I hadn't luxury sports car rentals given her a thought in years, and had no idea where she might be.
I'm always going out and looking up my old friends, so I decided to look up Holly if I could. I didn't know whether she was stateside or overseas. I also didn't know whether or not she were still married, or divorced. But I decided to look her up anyway. What the hell? We hadn't seen each other in close to 15 years.
I found her. She was not overseas, but living in Springfield, Virginia in a house, as I say, next door to her parents' house (which, given her neurotic attachment to her family, did not surprise me.) I left a message, she called me back, and we talked for about two hours. Catching up, you know? This was 2008 and we hadn't spoken since 1994. I told her that I was no longer with the State Department; luxury sports car rentals I had quit years earlier. She was still with the government, and as far as I know still is. I think she's been at State for 30 years now -- she came aboard luxury sports car rentals a couple of years before I did, back in the 1980s. And if you ask me, she gets paid way too much. All government employees do, considering the fact that they don't do anything except sit on their asses, drink coffee and attend meetings. American taxpayers pay Holly Inder at least $125,000 luxury sports car rentals a year for sitting in front of a computer doing nothing, drinking coffee and attending luxury sports car rentals meetings. It's outrageous.
Holly and I talked all that summer. But that's all we did, talk. We were on the phone every few days for more than two months, but it wasn't until August that we actually saw each other again. I gradually learned the reason why. Holly kept calling herself a "soccer mom." Her kids were teenagers by now, but why did she keep saying that? Well, the truth gradually came out. "Soccer mom" was codespeak luxury sports car rentals for "I've put on a lot of weight." And for that reason she was afraid to let me see her. Since returning from Guam and three years of screwing her ex-Marine luxury sports car rentals moron all over every beach on that island, she had swapped sex for food. She hadn't had a date since 2004, and had been joining her father next door in binging on mashed potatoes. I found this out later.
B y the time we did see each other that August, our phone chats had escalated into a serious flirtation. She hadn't had a man in years, I was married to Horrible and Holly and I were very much attracted to each other's voices. By the time we saw each other in August, we had fallen in love on the phone.
No sooner had we seen each other, one rainy day in Fairfax, Virginia where I had gone out to give her a ride home from work, than we realized we also wanted each other. Holly was sex-starved after four years of celibacy, and she really wanted me. She told me so. Again and again. We made love for the first time in 22 years one night at my house when Horrible was in California quarreling with her mother.
A fter that, Holly and I began two years of sneaking around. It wasn't always sex, but it often was. There was a flophouse hotel in Alexandria, Virginia called The Bragg Towers. We spent a number of afternoons there, enjoying a deli lunch and making luxury sports car rentals long, slow, tender, and yes, passionate love. We also trysted at the Red Roof Inn in Springfield, luxury sports car rentals and a couple of cheesy dumps on Route 1 south of town. Holly told me I was the best lover she'd ever had (!), and as for me, I just loved her so much that I was willing to go anywhere to be with her, even if only for an hour or two.
We often had lovely picnics at Lake Accotink Park in Springfield, not far from Holly's house. We had "our spot" up on a hillside in that park, where we could hunker down with our picnic behind a fallen tree, and paw and grope each other without a