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."
