Chapter 7: A Walk in the Park

Emily

I told Grandpa to drop me off at Clover Street Park, which was just up the street from the coffee shop. It was called Clover Street Park. Most of the names in this town were named after the founder of the town, Regis Clover, an Irish gold prospector who had struck a large vein of gold back in the late 1800s and bought the land and titles to build this “spectacular” city, but I found it all a big blah! This town grew into the large city it is today, but it wasn’t full of friendly people, at least, not from my perspective. But such was the way of the world today.

I had a lot on my mind and taking a walk through the park would help clear my head. The park had a pond with ducks and geese in them as well as beautiful scenery and even a vendor where I could buy a snack or a drink. We could even buy bags of popcorn to feed the ducks and geese. During the holidays, they would usually decorate the park, especially at Christmas time.

“How are you going to get home?” Grandpa asked.

“I’ll take the bus,” I said. It was just a straight shot home to my apartment and less than an hour considering how many stops and pick-ups there would be.

“The bus?” he said. “No. You can call me, and I’ll pick you up when you want to go home.” He didn’t trust me to fend for myself against the creepy and horny denizens of the city, let alone wait for a bus. I kept a can of mace in my backpack and always had it in my coat pocket along with my keys that had several sharp objects on them. But I wasn’t strong enough to fight.

“Grandpa, I can handle myself.” That was a lie. After what happened last night, I wasn’t sure I wanted to wait for the bus either. “What if I took a FastRide home?” FastRide was the local pick-up and drop-off car system that was almost like riding in a cab, but they didn’t charge you a buttload like the cab company was known to do.

He sighed and nodded. “Fine. But call me if you want a ride. And you better call me as soon as you get home. CALL, not TEXT, got it?”

“Yes,” I said, giggling. I’d be in trouble if I didn’t. I’d hear an earful from him the next day. I kissed him and said I’d see him in the morning when he picked me up. He drove off and I entered the park.

A few people were there but I ignored them and put in my earbuds. I saw a cute guy running and had to do a double take because he looked like Tristan. The guy had a man bun as well, but he was too scrawny, not like Tristan.

I couldn’t help but think about Tristan’s body and his strong arms holding me just after he saved my life. I thought it creepy at first but now I sort of appreciated it. Maybe it was the lapse of time since a guy had held me, but I was aching for his touch now.

What was wrong with me? Why was I acting this way? He was a stranger who saved my life and yet I felt my body becoming flushed with need. A need for him? Why? I mean, it had been three years since I last had sex and there was something about Tristan that I couldn’t get out of my head.

I walked through the park a little until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I found a private Unisex bathroom and locked the door. I set my backpack down, took off my coat, pulled my pants and panties down to my ankles. I reached down to feel a slick wetness.

No man had ever had an effect on me the way that Tristan did. I couldn’t help but feel this way. It had been way too long. I sat on the toilet, and I let my imagination take over as I touched myself, rubbing gently at first.

I imagined the feeling of his hands on my bare skin the way they held me last night. I tried to imagine what he looked like naked beneath his shirt and jacket. The feel of his strong arms against my body as one hand touched a breast and the other’s fingers gently probing inside of me.

I imagined what his c*ck would look like and the feel of it as it entered me quick and hard. I felt my breath catching and moved my fingers faster as I imagined him moving in and out of me. I bit my lip to keep myself from crying out as I came. My back arched and I had nearly fallen off the toilet.

I hoped no one who passed by the bathrooms had heard me as I moaned. The overhead fan was running so no one could have heard me. At least, I thought as much as I sat on the toilet catching my breath. I cleaned myself and any evidence of my impulsive moment of passion. I never usually did this before though I was sure that a lot of people came to private bathrooms to masturbate, but I don’t know what came over me. The thought of Tristan had overpowered my rational brain and I couldn’t think of anything else that would slake this hunger I felt. I was a little embarrassed as I washed my hands but thankful that the feeling was gone. I put on my coat and backpack then left the bathroom.

When I stepped out, I saw a man standing across the way near a water fountain. He was richly dressed and staring at me with a smile on his face. He nodded to me, and I smiled, though I was blushing and fearful that maybe he’d heard what I had just done inside

But I sensed a dangerous aura from him. I didn’t feel this from Tristan, and he was kind enough. But something told me that this guy was different and that I should give him a wide berth. And so, I did.

I walked through the park a little bit more until I came to one of two ponds they had here. I found a bench and tried to forget about the creepy rich guy I just saw. I focused on the ducks in the pond and on the grass near me. But suddenly, they were spooked and flew away. I’d quickly learned why when the creepy, rich guy came and sat down beside me on the bench. He took off his glasses and I noticed his eyes; they had a hint of red in them.

“Hello,” he said. “My name is Baltazar. Baltazar Advantes.”

I should have gotten up and walked away then and there, but I couldn’t move my legs. I couldn’t move at all.