My Coworker Was Waiting for Me in the Park

There had been something between Carla and me for months. We worked in different departments of the same company, but our tasks overlapped all the time, which forced us to spend hours together. She was one of those women who walk into a place and change it: long black hair, with curls falling across her face, wide hips, small, firm breasts, and a way of standing that seemed like a challenge. She dressed casually, in loose clothes and long earrings, and she had a habit of looking at me for a second longer than necessary.

That night there was a quarterly wrap-up meeting followed by a company dinner. We ended up sitting close to each other and, glass after glass, found ourselves side by side without anyone planning it. The alcohol loosened our tongues—and something else. There were double entendres, lingering looks, brushes neither of us pretended not to notice.

At one point she got up to go to the bathroom. On the way, she turned around and fixed me with her eyes, an invitation that needed no words. I counted to ten, my glass trembling slightly in my hand, dropped a flimsy excuse about going to get something from the car, and stood up. No one noticed: everyone was watching a coworker who had taken out a guitar and was starting the first songs, while the rest sang off-key through their laughter.

I caught up with her in a side hallway, away from the lights and the noise. There wasn't much to say. We kissed with an urgency we'd been holding inside for far too long. I pushed her against the wall and felt her hard nipples against my chest; she felt how aroused I was against her hip. For a few minutes, there were wandering hands and mouths that wouldn't let go of each other.

Not here, there were people only a few yards away.

***

Close to midnight, the party began to wind down. We were both several drinks past sober, so I offered to walk her home. We went out onto the boulevard and, without saying so, gradually veered toward a park a few blocks south.

When we reached a small plaza, we couldn't hold back anymore. We leaned against a tree in the half-light and began kissing again. I kissed her neck and spoke into her ear.

“I'm burning up for you,” I told her.

“Yeah?” she replied, her voice halfway between innocence and something else. “I want you to fuck me.”

And without hesitation, she slipped her hand inside my pants and grabbed me. There is no sensation like that of a woman who goes straight for what she wants, who neither waits nor asks permission. In the middle of a darkened park, that gesture was an invitation far too clear to ignore. I returned the favor: I slid my hand beneath her pants and immediately felt the change in temperature. With my fingertips, I began rubbing her clitoris in slow circles. Within seconds she was wet. She spread her legs, asking for more, and I slipped a finger inside her while she kept moving her hand over me.

There we were, both of us against a tree that barely hid us, well past midnight, in the middle of spring, a little drunk and completely turned on. Masturbating and panting, she slightly crouched with her legs open, me pressing her against the bark. From a distance, we must have been an unforgettable sight, but the place was far too exposed: every passing car swept us with its headlights.

“Let's go somewhere else,” I told her.

She took her hand out, sucked her fingers with a smile, and I did the same with mine. We looked at each other and laughed like two kids getting away with a prank.

“Disgusting,” she said, amused.

“And you?” I shot back.

“Me? I love it,” she finished, and we continued on our way.

***

We covered the few remaining blocks amid kisses and hands that wouldn't stay still. Every city has that park, the usual one, where couples go looking for darkness. At night, people make love in cars, on benches, in unlit corners; no one judges anyone, everyone watches and everyone is watched. In my city, that place is Lake Park.

We arrived carried along by a mixture of anxiety and arousal. We headed toward an elevated lookout and, as we approached, discovered that a couple was already there. She was against the railing, he was behind her; their slow movements left no doubt about what was happening. The woman's head hung back in surrender, her mouth half open, and every so often a low, restrained sound reached us, carried and then taken away by the wind. We stood there watching for a second too long, without moving, as if we were part of the same scene, and the sight of them turned us on even more. Carla squeezed my hand, and I felt her breathing change. We moved on and looked for a gazebo surrounded by low pines that promised a little privacy. As in any park at night, the shadows of the trees concealed the municipality's feeble attempts at lighting.

And then came the funny part: we arrived hot but frozen. We sat pressed together in silence, staring ahead, not knowing how to pick things back up. Until we turned our heads at the same time and met each other's eyes. It was like striking a match. We kissed, a thick kiss tasting of night and cigarettes. I stood her in front of me and kissed her neck and shoulders while lifting her shirt in search of her breasts. They were hard, her nipples begging for a mouth. I pulled her bra up to her neck and latched onto her tits like a desperate man, soft bites and kisses, moving from one nipple to the other. She held them from the sides and offered them to me; she moaned and threw her head back.

I spent a long while like that while one hand moved down toward her crotch: first over her pants, then I undid the button, lowered the zipper, and began touching her inside, without stopping my kisses on her breasts. I felt her surrender, spread her legs, crouch a little so my fingers could reach deeper. She grew wetter and wetter, until I felt her tremble for the first time.

Then she pulled away and looked at me. She didn't need to say anything; her face said it all. She gave me a long kiss while lowering my zipper and pulling me out. She knelt and began slowly, playing with her tongue before taking me into her mouth. The first contact of her lips shook me from head to toe. I braced my hands behind me and let her do it, feeling the heat, the rhythm, as my breathing quickened and my entire body tensed.

I took her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet. I pressed myself against her without entering yet, just rubbing against that area we'd both left wet, moving my hips, looking into each other's faces with our features twisted by pleasure. Then I turned her around. She looked at me over her shoulder and lowered herself to the ground on all fours, offering herself. Our pants and underwear were tangled around our ankles.

The shadows covered us, but we were in the center of an elevated gazebo, in the middle of a public park, well past midnight, half naked and sweaty, our hearts pounding. We didn't care. Seeing her like that, with her back arched and everything offered, turned me on even more. I had the urge to thrust inside her all at once, but I held back. I ran the tip over her sex a couple of times, and only then penetrated her slowly. I moved forward, feeling a heat that nearly burned, sliding in without resistance. She rested her head on her hand on the floor, taking every thrust with a low moan.

After a while I pulled out and watched her, spreading her a little and brushing the tip against another spot.

“God, I love that,” she said, reaching one hand back to touch herself.

I thought it was an invitation for more, but it wasn't.

“Not now,” she stopped me. “Just rub me; I'm about to come.”

I felt a stab of disappointment, but I didn't care. I continued for a while longer, searching for her rhythm, while she mischievously dodged every attempt I made to go further. I decided to go back inside her all at once, all the way, angry and hungry at the same time. I pushed her forward, and we both fell without my leaving her. She raised her hips and I thrust like a madman. Our movements became frantic; I felt her contract around me, squeezing me, while she came in a long tremor that drenched me completely.

She went limp on the floor of the gazebo. I thrust a couple more times.

“Ahhh, I'm coming,” I warned her.

“Pull out, pull out,” she said, turning around, grabbing me, and bringing me to her mouth at exactly the right moment. She held me and wouldn't let me escape, swallowing with a calmness that finished burning me up. I lifted my head, looked at the night sky, and let everything go.

I let myself drop into a seated position beside her, while she was still savoring me with a satisfied smile.

“Mmm, so good,” she said, in a tone that had nothing innocent about it.

We both lay there panting, our pants around our ankles, her shirt and bra still around her neck, in the middle of a dark gazebo in some ordinary park. We didn't care about anything. We'd enjoyed it, and the place, the possibility that someone might appear, had made it a thousand times better. We straightened our clothes, looked at each other, and kissed again. Then we sat on a bench, still turned on, with no desire to leave.

But that's another story.