A Walk in the Park · Part 1

A Walk in the Park · Part 1 (1/2)
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After a long hard day Sophia needed time and space to unwind and the Park provided it. One of the attractions of her house was, that it overlooked the park, acres of space in the middle of such a built up area.

You could almost get lost in amongst the trees and, the winding unmade paths.

The evening was bright and sunny.

Sophia was an executive in a large corporation. She had worked hard to get where she was, sacrificing, friendship, leisure and romance, She was single and unattached. At 40 she still had plenty to look forward to, she was fit and healthy, though too old to start a family. If only she could find someone to share her success with.

She walked steadily, her hair flowing gently over her shoulders, a natural blonde which had been partly the reason she had fought so hard for success. Many people had underestimated her by her looks. She wore no bra. Her bust was not over large, enough, but she liked the feel of loose fabric over her nipples keeping them tingly and alert. The soft cotton dress was just dense enough to camouflage her recklessness to any one except the more close observer. She drew the line at no panties, although she would prefer to be free of them, the breeze could lift her dress to reveal more than was decent. She had a reputation to preserve, at least in public.

Despite her dedication to work she was not completely ignorant of carnal matters. She had a vivid imagination and read avidly during breaks at work and most evenings. She had started with Mills & Boon but more recently had been branching into other things. She had even visited a sex shop once, in Holland where such things are more open and less frowned upon.

She had also purchased a vibrator which had kept her company on many a long winter’s night.

She had even had the occasional wild fling, but had attracted the attention of the wrong sort of man, more interested in removing her panties than delving into her mind. The last one had been a little more considerate than most, trying to give her as much pleasure as himself and spending time with fore play. She had learnt quite a lot from Greg. He introduced her to multiple orgasms, which she now could enjoy without the help of his skilful fingers. He had had little imagination though. The most adventurous he had been was to enter her doggy style.

In books she had explored other avenues. Some had revolted her. The thought of cross dressing, sploshing or golden showers could send her completely numb. She was more attracted to the more physical variations, and even wondered about a lesbian encounter. Such things were mostly kept for fantasy or literature. She was not sure how she would react if confronted with tickling or S & M in real life. She could not fully imagine being spanked or restrained, or whether she would freak out or enjoy it, and it was not something you could just go out and ask for.

When she was out walking she would sometimes fantasise about the people she saw. Imagining dark and devious scenarios in which she would be captured and held, but eventually pleasured beyond her normal limitations. She knew such thoughts were both exciting but dangerous and that in reality she would more likely be raped and killed than stimulated and pleasured. Still a girl needed something to occupy her mind and she slipped easily into her reverie.

In the distance she saw the typical villain of her piece. A strong man in a donkey jacket carrying a bulging holdall and sporting a large woolly hat. He had dirty brown boots with steel toe caps and a long loping gate. While he was still some distance off she turned off into the centre of the park. She had a picture of him now and could weave the story without reality getting in the way. The bag would be filled with tools and ropes and he would set upon her and tie her to a tree and then slowly remove all her clothes. No one would come to her rescue and he would spend hours teasing and touching her before carrying her off to be his sexual slave. The story played through her mind until she suddenly realised that there was someone near by.

It was him! He had turned off behind her and was steadily catching up. The path winded down to the lake in the middle of the park and Sophia lengthened her stride. There would probably be people around the lake. He seemed in no hurry to catch her but she was sure that she was on his mind.

Reaching the edge of the lake she saw to her dismay that it was deserted. The path around it was tarmac with a protective rail running around the edge of the water. She sought refuge on the nearest park bench, in the hope that it was just her imagination and that she was not the centre of his attention. She focussed her eyes firmly onto a duck swimming on the lake and waited for the danger to pass. The holdall landed on the bench with a heavy thud forcing her to look up.

“You’re Sophia aren’t you?” It was not even a question, just a statement of fact.

“Yes, how did you know?” She managed to blurt out, her heart heading straight for her mouth and in danger of leaving her altogether.

“We have a mutual friend; Lorna, Lorna Howarth.”

“You know Lorna?”

“Oh yes. Intimately.”

She took that at face value. Lorna was a flirt. Well more than a flirt, she was quite happy to go all the way. With a body that would turn the head of a saint and looks to match, Lorna was well equipped and knew how to use it. Knowing Lorna intimately was not a unique position, neither was it destined to impress.

“I am not like Lorna.” She replied emphatically.

“Neither would I want to be.” She added, and immediately wished she had not. For all she knew it could have been more than a passing fling. They may even be close. It was not unthinkable.

He seemed un-moved “I know.”

Sophia ventured a more close examination of this tall and enigmatic stranger. His face was rugged and well tanned suggesting an out door way of life. He was built like an ox, with muscles in places she had never seen before, but he was clean shaven and his eyes were soft and gentle: no sign of violence or menace.

“I’m sorry, I seem to have frightened you.”

“It’s all right. You just never know. Were you following me?”

“Yes and no. I live over the other side of the park and was on my way home when I saw you. I thought it about time we met. Oh I haven’t introduced myself. Forgive me. I’m Martin., Martin Frizeldi”

“Sounds foreign.” She said without thinking.

“Well may be several generations past. I was born here as were my parents and grandparents so I believe.”

Sophia flushed. This was not going very well.

“My house overlooks the park, so I suppose we are neighbours. If you ignore the acres of grass and a few thousand non human inhabitants. It would be nice to see a friendly face occasionally. I moved in nearly a year ago but do not really know any one around here.”

“Well I would be more than happy to see you again, perhaps we could arrange a more formal time that would suit rather than rely on chance.”

“Not too formal.” She corrected. “My life is full enough with meetings and etiquette. It would be nice to be able to let my hair down so to speak.”

“And I would enjoy running my fingers through your hair, if that was appropriate.”

“Hmm. That might be nice.”

“Well I will leave you to consider it. May I call you?”

“You have my number?”

“Well I was hoping you might give it to me. Or better, your address. I can always look you up.”

“I don’t normally pass on my address or telephone to every man who stops me in the park…. But.”

“Perhaps if I joined you on the bench for a while you might feel more comfortable opening up. I am not an ogre or even a rampant rapist.” She motioned for him to sit. He kept a discrete distance from her, his hand resting casually on the holdall. Sophia wished she had not removed her bra, she was showing more than a little sign of arousal.

“So what is in the bag?”

“Tools. I’m a landscape gardener. My partner keeps the van and all the heavy gear. He drops me off on this side of the park to save battling through the traffic. I quite like the walk, unless it’s raining of course.”

“Gardening. Well that is light years away from my offices and board meetings. May I see?”

He looked perplexed “Sure, but why?”

“Oh just curiosity. I had visions of you carrying a blunt instrument and shackles.”

“No, just tools. Though you might find the odd length of twine. Watch your hand though some of the tools are very sharp.”

Sophia burrowed through the bag; there was nothing untoward just gardening implements, a lunch box and flask, and a reel of twine, scarcely more than a couple of millimetres thick.”

“Satisfied?”

“I suppose so. You did give me quite a start.”

“How was I suppose to approach you? I did not know exactly where you live. I have seen you a couple of times walking in the park but you always seem preoccupied with something.”

“I come here to relax and unwind. My mind is normally wandering, not thinking of anything in particular.”

Sophia’s attention was distracted by the approach of a young woman. Long black hair caught in a velvet tie. A leather choker with metal studs. Bare mid rift sandwiched between black top and a very short leather skirt. The top was cut off at the sleeves and very low front and back.

She wore leather bracelets and a barbed tattoo around the top of her right arm. Black almost fishnet stockings and polished leather boots finished the ensemble.

“Now there’s someone asking to be raped.”

Sophia commented.

“I’d pity the man who tried.”

“You know her too?” Sophia looked incredulous.

“Only by reputation. It is said she has a black belt in every martial art and a few moves of her own on top. Not my type at all.”

“Look but don’t touch.”

“More like beware. She is a man eater by all accounts.”

The girl disappeared into the distance. Sophia and

Martin sat and chatted for a bit longer before he got up to leave.

“I’ll leave you to your fantasies.” He said proving that she had revealed more than she thought. “I’ll call you.”

Left alone Sophia considered the encounter. He had undressed her with his eyes most of the time and the lack of bra must have encouraged him. What must he really think? What with her obsession with his bag and wandering around without a bra. Not the sort of impression she would normally want to give. She retraced her steps back to the house.

Once inside she kicked off her shoes and peeled off her dress. It was her house, she lived alone and there were curtains at all the windows. The freedom was wonderful. She pottered about the house doing the necessary chores, before retreating to the bedroom. The evening was still young but she had an appointment with a book. She had discovered this author a few months ago and was ploughing through his novels about one a week. This one had reached an erotic interlude which she was looking forward to sharing with her trusty vibrator.

Fully naked she retrieved the vibrator and the book from her bottom draw and propped herself up with several pillows. She immersed herself in the feelings of the female character. As the scene progressed she inserted the vibrator on a low setting and let her right hand caress her body, concentrating around her breasts. She was not gentle with herself, kneading and tweaking as the book demanded. Her breathing increased and she was just ready to increase the vibrator when the phone rang.

“Damn, who could that be?” She exclaimed to no one in particular. Very few people knew she existed let alone her phone number and she had meticulously removed it from all commercial calling.

“Hello.” She said warily, half expecting her mother to be on the other end. That was a regular, long phone call. Just as well there were no such things as videophones, her mother may not understand why her daughter spent so much time naked or nearly so.

“Hi, I hope you were not busy.” The voice sounded familiar. “I’ve got to nip to the DIY warehouse and wondered whether I could drop in and see you?”

“Martin?” She said incredulously. “You’re certainly keen.”

“No time like the present. It will take me half an hour or so, is that all right?”

“Yes, I suppose so, I’ve got nothing on at the moment.” Her mind guffawed at the double meaning but she kept her voice steady. “I can be ready in half an hour. I will expect you then. Number

36” she reminded him.

“Do you really think I’d forget?” He chided gently.

First stop was the shower. She allowed the water to just flood over and over her for a few moments. She shut her eyes and tried to retrieve the picture she had just been reading but it was lost for now.

Instead her mind jumped back to the park and the tall stranger leaning over her. There was no fear in this vision. She felt surprisingly safe at the thought of his presence and a nervous expectation started to develop inside her. Her hand reached for the sponge and the shower gel. She kept her eyes shut as the sponge caressed over her delving into the most personal of places, then away under each arm and down each leg. She tried to imagine Martin touching her but found she could not. Those hands seemed so big, so strong, she could not imagine them being gentle, yet this whole being had defied the idea of violence and roughness. There was a conflict here which only time would resolve. Was Martin the Lover she had longed for? Or the wolf at her door, waiting to pounce and overcome her?

Mechanically her hands switched to the shampoo, her fingers pressing hard against her scalp forcing the shampoo into every root of her hair. Then she stood still and allowed the fountain to wash over her again and carry all her cares down the drain.

She emerged a new woman, with vigour and purpose. It took a full eight minutes to fully dry her hair, but she was not that flushed for time. She risked the hottest setting and waived the thing dramatically around forcing her hair into submission. She found a head band, black velvet, and tamed her now frizzing hair with it. With any luck it could calm down over the next fifteen minutes as she rushed round picking up and shoving away into drawers or cupboards. Passing the bedroom her eye caught sight of the vibrator lying where she had left it still glistening with her juices. He was quickly despatched back to the bottom draw along with her book.

A cursory swipe across the duvet brought it roughly into line and she stood up and gazed around. It occurred to her that she was being presumptuous that they would reach the threshold of her bedroom, but the idea had merit. Still she would just let things pan out, not rush or be assertive. Martin had shown more than enough enthusiasm as it was by visiting so quickly. Was she a conquest to be had?

Another pussy to be taken? Or did he just want to get to know her?

Coffee. There was nothing like the smell of fresh coffee as you entered a house. It brought warmth and homeliness. She hoped he liked coffee. Within minutes there was the reassuring gurgle of the coffee maker and the aroma spread throughout the house. The door bell pulled her back to reality. He was here. She hesitated seeing the large shadow through the frosted glass of her front door. No point in delaying, she must meet her fate head on.

“Martin, is that you?” She called through the door.

“Expecting any one else?” he boomed back.

Sliding back the safety bolt with purpose, Sophia opened the door. She was not quite expecting the sight that greeted her. It was the same man, big, rugged, muscular and the eyes were the same, soft and gentle, but the appearance was a transformation. Gone was the donkey jacket, dirty jeans, steel capped boots, now there was an air of casual elegance. He had resisted a suit, well, she saw enough of men in suits during the week. He had worn a tie, though, it did not quite work, he looked a little uncomfortable with the top button straining a little underneath a roughly finished knot. The shirt was lightly patterned and short sleeved, the trousers were neat, but not pressed and the shoes sparkled.

He presented her with the slightly corny bunch of flowers. In his other hand was a carrier bag.

“Did these come from the DIY store too?” She accused.

“I would like to say that they came from my garden.” He began. “But I don’t have garden.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” She reassured him.

“How do you know my thoughts are honourable?” He queried.

Sophia ignored the question. Her eyes were examining the bag he carried. She could see what looked like a bundle of rope and some bags of fixings.

“You really do worry about what I’m carrying.”

A Walk in the Park · Part 1 (1/2)
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