The Woman in the Park

I didn't mind the one or two people who found their way to what I had come to consider my own hidden glen in the park. Like me, they usually wanted to be quietly left alone, and would spread out their blankets to read a book or just nap.

This is just what she was doing when I looked up from my paper. I had commandeered the only bench, which was now littered with discarded sections of the Sunday paper, none of which was able to hold my interest. It was the first day of spring and the budding flowers, the birds, the strong breeze all called for attention.

As did she. She was tucked back in a small clearing of grass amongst the trees, and I hadn't noticed her when I sat down. She'd been reading, but now that she seemed to be dozing I allowed myself to take her in. How can I describe her? Sultry. Yes, she was sultry lying there, with her dark lips just parted, an expression of contented pleasure on her face. The breeze whipped at her dress every now and then and my eyes flowed down the curve of her shoulders, followed the roundness of her breasts. I thought I could make out her nipples pushing their way hard against the thin dress. She stirred; her hand moved across her chest. That tiny movement pulled the front of her dress down tighter, revealing more of her silky skin, just where it started to swell into her breast, now in relief and moving with her breathing

It quickened. What was she dreaming? I moved my way down her body. Her hips pushed slightly to the side, her legs were bent, falling apart. A gust of wind suddenly whipped at her dress and let it settle well above her knees, exposing her smooth thighs. As the breeze continued to play with the hem of her dress, I felt my whole body urging the wind on, all of my concentration trying to give it strength.

The next gust, though, only grabbed at my newspaper and carried it off in her direction. I jumped to snatch it back before it got any closer and saved it just a foot from her blanket. She let out a low sound, a moan? Had I woken her? No. I watched her roll her hips back and slide her hand, across her breast this time, falling back into undisturbed sleep as I stood over her, trying to silence the rustling paper and my pounding heart.

Her hand was cupped around her breast, pulling her dress down more to reveal just the hint of pink. I wanted it to be my hand. I was shaking with excitement now, afraid she would wake up but unable to move.

I stepped closer. Maybe I could give the wind some help. My hand shook uncontrollably, but something in me had to try. Very gently, slowly, I pulled the hem of her skirt up, higher up her thighs. They were so smooth, I almost touched her. Higher. Her legs curved in and I could see the white of her underwear. Further. They just barely covered her. A tiny patch of white. Higher....

I stopped there, where I could see her hip bones and follow the faint line of soft blond hair leading down her belly and disappearing beneath that patch of white.

Pleased with myself, I went back to my bench to watch from a safe distance and wondered if I'd be brave enough now to expose myself, too. I didn't think I could stand it much longer and I was afraid I might just come right then in my pants.

Just as I moved to slide open my belt, I heard the sharp rustling of leaves behind me and came to my senses. Someone else was here. It's a public park, for crissake. Had they been here long? I couldn't move. There was a faint whirring sound and more rustling to my right now. I slowly turned my head.

He was just on the edge of the clearing. A college kid, gangly and awkward, out taking pictures on the first day of spring. He looked over at me, scared. I nodded slightly and he inched forward to get a better shot.

I don't know how long he'd been watching. He was obviously as turned on as I was from this unexpected, almost innocent glimpse of temptation. But his hands didn't falter as he focused the camera, on his knees now, his camera trying to pierce the tiny piece of white cotton. He zoomed in tight on her hand. Her finger moved slightly. Brushed her nipple. Whirr.

She moaned just as I felt my cum pouring out over my hand. She was waking up.

I fell back on the bench, exhausted, for only a moment. The kid ran back into the woods and I stole one last look as I hurried away. She hadn't moved, but she seemed to look in my direction. The hint of a smile crossed her face.

***

The coffee wasn't great. This would soon be the downfall of Marty's Coffee Shop, but for now it meant that I almost always had the place to myself. They'd remodeled last year, thinking that a couple of couches and a few new stools would make it hip and bring in new customers. But old Marty still served the same foul coffee and no one was fooled.

I wandered in just as the sun was setting and ordered a coffee and a slice of mediocre pie. Marty nodded and slowly shuffled back to reach for the half-filled pot of coffee that had probably been warming there since noon. As I waited, I scanned the room.

She was here. I couldn't believe it. It was unimaginable enough for Marty's to have two customers at once, but this was impossible. The woman I'd watched sleeping in the park last week was here, leaning over her book at one of the tall café tables.

Coffee and pie in hand, I hesitated. I'd been playing her over and over in my head for the past week. Imagining her body in front of me, mentally running my fingers over every inch of her. And here she was again.

Had she seen me at the park? I couldn't be sure, and yet I couldn't leave. I was already excited just seeing her in profile. She was even more enticing than I'd remembered and she made her blue silk blouse and loose skirt look so much sexier than just office clothes. They seemed to slide over her, and with her heels hooked onto the rungs of the stool, the skirt fell back to show off her long legs.

I decided to test myself, to see how well I could control myself at close range, and made my way to the table right behind her. She glanced up for a second, but made no reaction as I pulled my stool around. She had to have been aware of me, though. The place was empty and I sat so close to her our shoulders almost touched. I pulled out some work I'd planned to go over, sorted through some papers, turning a little, watching her back.

I realized then that I wasn't testing myself; I was testing her. Any woman would have felt uncomfortable with a stranger sitting so close, almost breathing on her. But she just kept reading, and every now and then arched her back to stretch a little. After a minute or two like this I started to feel a little ridiculous. What was I doing? I started to turn to my papers when I heard the door open.

A banner night at Marty's, I thought, looking up. A couple of boys were at the counter now and I almost fell over when I recognized the photographer from the park.

What was going on? The two of them both looked a little uncomfortable and I was sure they'd come in because she was here. Had he been following her all week? Did he know her? Had he been following me?

Whirr. He took a picture of his friend balancing the two cups of coffee on top of each other, and they laughed. Whirr. He snapped him almost dropping them as he set them on a table and again as he fell laughing into the deep couch.

"I can't believe you went digital, man. It's never gonna be as good as a real camera."

He must have recognized me. He looked right at me, then carried on. "Naw, the quality of the prints from this thing is amazing. You've gotta check it out. And the best thing is that it's quiet. No click. It's a lot more subtle than my last one."

I looked over at his camera again, and then down at those legs. She turned a page.

"See?" It was true. I hadn't heard a thing, but I could see very well what he was doing. He had a perfect vantage point from the low couch across the room, angling just a little upwards.

She crossed her legs and the skirt fell back. I teetered in my chair and felt myself getting hard again. Her skirt had slipped up her lap. Her whole thigh was exposed and as she shifted to the side for just a second she showed me the rounded edge of her ass.

The boys had turned red and I was pretty sure I could see the photographer's pants stirring/

I was convinced that she didn't know what she'd done. She reached for her coff3ee and uncrossed her legs.

No, she had to have known what she was doing. He rested the camera on his lap, angled upwards, and I followed the direction of the lens. I could barely see without falling out of my chair, but I knew I only had to move my hand another six inches to be stroking her. What would she do? I started to inch my way closer. I caught the movement of his finger on the shutter. She crossed her legs again, then started at the sound of her cell phone ringing.

It was like a spell had been broken. Our mutual silence, the chance to finally touch her. All broken.

"...no, I really don't think I can." Her voice was velvet. "Listen. Mr. Horrigan...Mr. Horrigan.... I can barely hear you. Just hang on. My battery's dying. Let me get to a payphone and call you back."

I could hear her annoyance. It didn't sound like a pleasant phone call, and then maybe, just maybe she'd been waiting for me. Pretending to read, but waiting for my hand to make it's way to her.

She gathered up her purse and a huge stack of books and files that had been sitting on the stool next to her and walked off without the slightest acknowledgement of the boys across the room, or me. Marty directed her to the payphone in the back.

I felt completely let down, needing more, when I glanced at the stool she'd just left. It glistened with the signs of her anticipation.

I stood up. I had to see what would happen next.

She was on the phone, down at the end of the long hall, uncomfortably holding the phone with one hand and trying to manage the stack of papers with the other.

"I understand that it's important to you, but I do not feel this is a requirement of my position," she was saying. "You're going to have to find someone else."

She barely looked up when I stopped in front of her. She shifted the stack in her arms. I reached out and nonchalantly undid the top button of her shirt.

She gasped and stared at me in surprise.

"...no. No, Mr. Horrigan," she stuttered.

Another button.

She was flustered and almost dropped the phone. "You know that I feel very committed to my job, and..."

She wasn't wearing a bra. I worked my way down her blouse.

Her voice was shaking. "Of course I wouldn't want to jeopardize..."

I didn't pull it open yet, but teased her nipples. I could feel them through her blouse and gently pinched them, rolled them in my fingers.

Her head fell back and her eyes fluttered twice with excitement. "Of, of course," she managed. "This reunion must be incredibly important to you."

I pushed the blouse aside and took in her breasts. Rounded, the nipples aching, reaching upward for my mouth. The shirt fell off one shoulder and I stepped back.

She was breathing faster and watching me, asking me to touch her. "Oh...oh...of course." I played with the edge of her skirt. "...but anyone could greet them and take a few coats, Mr. Horrigan. I am not a receptionist." She was trying to concentrate and every word was deliberate.

I raised the edge of her skirt, letting it drag across her as I pulled it up and down.

She was pleading with me now. To stop or go on, I couldn't tell, I pulled up the hem of the skirt slowly, watching the pale hair of her pussy appear.

She fell back against the wall. "But.." she was almost panting. "If there are only twenty-five people-"

I stepped back. She was confused. She didn't know what to do. I backed up to lean against the opposite wall.

"th...then I don't see why...you are...you would...oh...even need me for only twenty-five people."

There was only one bulb at the end of the hall, but it seemed to make her skin shine. This is just how I wanted to see her. She tried to turn away. I could see that she felt helpless, embarrassed. At the same time, we both knew she could have dropped the papers she held or put down the phone. She didn't want to; she wanted me.

"...s...so...I just take their coats then wait there two hours just to be...to give them back? Do you have...I mean, do you really think-"

A slow stream of her juices worked its way down the inside of her leg. She tried to move towards me.

"Please! Please, Mr. Horrigan, I..."

I smiled at her and walked away.

I wasn't surprised to see the boys stationed at the end of the hall. "Not a bad vantage point with the right lens." The photographer nodded to me as I left.

***

It wasn't hard to track down. And I was sure I wasn't the only one who had. It's a small enough city and most things show p in the paper eventually.

Mr. Cameron Horrigan would be hosting a reunion of members of the 42nd Infantry or something or other at the offices of his law firm this Thursday at 8 pm.

I was there promptly at 8.

"Yes, I'm Mr. Horrigan. How can I help you?"

She was standing behind a counter taking down names of guests as they arrived and turning to hang up their coats. Only a few people had arrived and gone in. She saw me the second I came through the door, but gave no reaction.

"I was hoping I could hang around for a little bit to intercept a friend of my uncle's. I'd heard he'd be at the reunion tonight, but we haven't been able to track down his hotel. I thought I'd just catch him here."

I could tell I was making her uncomfortable, but I was enjoying it. I could just see the edge of the skirt from the coffee shop from over the counter. And another sheer blouse. This one was white and very transparent. She wore a light camisole underneath. I studied her.

"Campbell? No, I don't recall anyone named Campbell."

"I'm quite sure this is it. The 42nd, isn't it?"

"Yes, but....I don't want to get your hopes up, but I guess there's no harm in waiting," he said, as he turned to usher a few more guests into the conference room. "The three of you are welcome to wait here or take a seat on the couch in the hall."

Three of us? I didn't even need to look behind me to know who was there. My photographer and his friend were as resourceful as I. Without a word, they slipped back to the hall to wait for the arrival of "Mr. Campbell."

I took the liberty of walking around the back of the counter, which divided the large room in two. There were four or five desks in the back half of the room, and most of the lights had been turned off for the night. A small kitchenette with a sink was in the back of the room and I poured myself a glass of water, then played with a few things on a nearby desk.

"Mr. Horrigan is so glad you could make it tonight," she was saying.

"Are you a relation of his?" the older gentleman asked, struggling with his coat.

"Oh, no. I work with him here at-oh!" She jumped as she felt my hand on her leg.

"What's that?"

"...nothing, sir. I..I'm sorry. Can I help you with that?"

She tried to step away to help him with his coat but he refused and managed to disentangle himself. Luckily for me.

As she leaned over the counter to take down his name I reached up and, before she knew what was happening, had pulled down her panties.

"No, no. Goodness, girl, can't you hear?! Two n's in FINNIGAN. There. My address? Yes..."

I forcefully lifted her feet up out of her panties one by one. They were already moist and I shot her a mischievous grin when she glanced down.

The guests arrived slowly, but there seemed to be a constant stream of half-blind old men. I felt bold and stood up next to her. The one hunched man hobbling in didn't even notice me. She tried to smile but whispered under her breath. "Go away. Please go away before my boss sees you."

"What was that?!" the hunched man yelled.

"Your name," she yelled back. "Could I get your name, sir."

"Excuse me," I whispered, leaning over her back. I slipped my finger through the neck of her blouse and pulled out the strap of her camisole. It was too easy. Her hands were occupied; the old man blind as a bat. I leisurely cut through one strap.

She stiffened, still bending over, trying to get down his name. He hadn't a clue and I'd already cut through the second strap. The camisole fell to her waist.

I calmly walked out around the counter to admire my handiwork. As she lifted his coat over the counter, I watched her breasts rise up on display for anyone to see-anyone who could. The blouse was no more than a transparent veil cascading down the front of her. Her face had turned a deep red, but I could tell she was as turned on as I was.

"Thank you, dear," he turned away and I darted back behind the counter as the door opened again.

"Yes, Mr. Temple." This one didn't sound so senile. "You're scheduled to speak in about twenty minutes," she said to the newcomer.

"Hmm. Yes, that's fine, dear. Just fine."

He wasn't blind either and seemed perfectly happy to hang around in the lobby chatting and drooling for the next twenty minutes. She was stuttering again and I could tell she was trying to hide her excitement from him.

My hand reached slowly up her leg. I could feel her try to pull away, but she was stuck. It sounded like he'd taken hold of her hands.

"...I'm quite serious. My grandmother taught my to read palms. Here, lay your arms down flat on the table like this. Here, from the elbow..."

She was forced to bend over at the waist and I almost laughed. Mr. Temple was dong his best to make a move, I was sure, and now I only had to reach up to fold the waist of her skirt over. Once, twice, she tried to shake my hands away, but it did no good. I'd already come so far. The switch of her ass trying to shake me away only prodded me on more, mesmerized by the slow revelation of her skin as I folded over the waist of the skirt, raising the hem higher and higher. It was now just a little too short. Bending over as she was forced to I could watch her ass as it curved down and flowed into her soft, wet folds. She arched her back uncontrollably and I could see her swollen lips part. I could almost reach up and lick her.

A flash of light behind me caught my eye. I guessed our photographer had gotten tired of waiting in the hall and looked behind me. But instead of him, there was Mr. Temple! Why hadn't I noticed before? It was poorly lit at the back of the room, but I now realized that the entire back wall was mirrored. Lucky Mr. Temple was getting an eyeful from every angle. I grinned.

"Why, I've never seen anyone as lucky as you before," he said, grinning himself and turning back to her hand.

She squirmed and I reached up to run my finger along her ass, tracing its way down, down. I couldn't get over how wet she was, the juices welling up, and her whole body started to quiver as one finger skated across her tiny clit. I lingered, just barely touching her again. She almost stumbled forward as she arched her back more deeply and rocked her hips, searching for my finger.

Temple laughed as she slid her legs farther apart. "Huh. I've really never seen anything like you."

She seemed to be trying to ask for an explanation, but she could hardly get the words out.

He carried on coolly, explaining the lines that mapped her hand, and I dipped my fingers into her again, now moving more quickly. I wasn't going to let her stop now.

She was growing bolder, too. With every arch of her back offering her fully exposed breasts up just a little more. As I moved across her with greater speed she couldn't keep from letting out a little cry of pleasure. She caught herself. "Oh...I...excuse me, Mr. Temple. I..." I knew what look she must be giving him. Slightly embarrassed, yet pleading.

"No need to be sorry, dear. You do seem a bit jumpy. Maybe I can help. What if I just..."