Karen

As was their Sunday tradition Karen and her daughter headed to the gym for their weekly racquetball match. While her daughter favored more traditional gym wear for the game, Karen looked at the weekly match as a chance to be confused as a sister rather than a mother. Today she was dressed in her favorite Nike Move Your A purple T-shirt, short black ruffled tennis skirt and patriotic flag triangle scarf on her head. No one would call her ma'am today - it would be Miss!   The only give away to her potential "mom" status was the wrap she wore on her left calf (and the slight wrinkling of skin that she worked tirelessly to keep from worsening). Without the aforementioned wrap, she would be limping before she had even played five minutes. 

Her daughter loved to play racquetball. Karen enjoyed it too. She used to play in high school and college. Although he daughter often told her differently (probably during every game), she felt she had not lost any skill over the years. If a ball often went by her, it was so she didn't show her daughter up. Her daughter was just trash talking - she was sure of it.

Today would be a special day - Karen had been working secretly with a coach for four months to better her skills. He was coming to film the match and provide feedback on their serves and returns. Karen smiled when he arrived. The coach was Karen's height with dark skin and muscles that rippled even when he was sitting still. After greeting him and entering the court, her daughter called Karen a flirt. Karen kept count - her daughter called her a flirt 26 times during their session.

If only her daughter knew that she didn't need to flirt - this man was already hers.