The Park Dad I Decided to Have That Morning

My name is Daniela and I’m twenty-five. I work sometimes as a go-go dancer and other times behind the bar at a pub, so I live more at night than by day. It’s ugly to say it about yourself, but I’ve got a great body: brunette, light eyes, curves where they should be and nothing extra. I say it without shame because it’s the truth and because, in this story, it mattered.

I go out a lot, and not just for work. When I’m off, I head out anyway, because I love partying and, why lie, I love sex. I know it doesn’t look good for a woman to say it so bluntly, but I like it more than the hottest man in the world. With one difference: I decide when, how, and with whom. And I almost always get my way.

That Sunday morning, around eleven, I should have been sleeping off a hangover. The night before I’d gone out with Carla, my battle companion, the only one who can keep up with me until closing time. We got home when the smell of chocolate with churros was already in the air, both of us wrecked. But I had a plan, and the plan itched inside me like a buzzing I couldn’t shut up.

So I called her. Carla showed up looking rough, a coffee in her hands and no idea what her friend was up to. We sat on a bench in the children’s park, the one two streets from my place, watching the parents play with their kids.

—Hey, Daniela —she said, yawning—, what are we doing here? Don’t tell me you want to go on the swings again like that night you were drunk. There are kids and parents here, for fuck’s sake.

—What are you talking about, you maniac —I said—. That’s not it. A father is exactly what I’m after.

I pointed, without hiding a thing, at a broad-shouldered, dark-haired man playing with his three-year-old son a few steps from the slide. He lifted the boy into his arms, made him fly, and the kid laughed with that clean laugh of people who still don’t know how to lie.

—That one? —Carla’s eyes went wide.

—That one. His name is Adrián. He lives nearby, across the street. He’s forty-one and he used to be in the military, which is why he’s built like that. He split up not long ago from his wife, a witch I ran into a couple of times at the club. Trouble, nasty, and on top of that she was cheating on him. He hardly ever goes out: sporty, hardworking, crazy about the kid. Look how he treats him.

I was practically drooling, and I couldn’t have said whether it was because of the tenderness with which he held the boy or because the father was so fucking hot. Probably both at once.

—You’re the worst —snorted Carla—. As if leaving me hanging last night with Marcos and his boring friend wasn’t enough, now you want to go after this model dad. And you know the nice ones usually aren’t your type.

—Well, today he is, and you’re going to help me.

—Help you with what? Ask for his number, woman, and when he’s not with the kid you can hook up with him, if he wants to.

—He’s going to want to —I said, smiling—. But this isn’t about numbers. I’m taking him. Now. Right now.

—Whaaat? —Carla nearly spat out her coffee—. He’s with his son! What the hell are you planning?

—That’s where you come in. Get the kid out of the way for a bit, like you’ve gotten so many unwanted creeps out of my way.

—You absolute slut, he’s a three-year-old kid! I’m not going to…

—Jesus, you’re twisted —I cut in, dying of laughter—. I’m not talking about anything weird. The kid’s adorable, but I don’t have the patience for little brats. You do. Remember my little brother’s birthday? You had more fun than he did. Take him to the kiosk, buy him balloons, candy, whatever. Keep him busy for ten minutes.

—You really are evil… —but she was already getting up, and deep down her face was lighting up—. Honestly, I love them that small. Do you think I’d make a good mother and…?

—Carla, focus. We’ll talk about that later.

***

My friend went over to the kid clowning around, making voices, running circles around him like she was part of the playground too. Adrián looked at her with a flicker of surprise, but when he saw the boy laughing his head off, he relaxed and sat down on a bench about ten meters away. That was my moment.

I sat beside him with no shame at all, so close our thighs almost touched.

—Your son is so handsome —I said, nudging him with my elbow—. Just like his dad.

Adrián turned red. He was one of those men who blush, and far from putting me off, that only turned me on more.

—Uh… thanks —he muttered—. And which one is yours?

—I don’t have one yet. They haven’t made him for me yet. —I winked—. Though, you know, everything starts somewhere.

He moved a couple of inches away, uncomfortable. But I wasn’t about to let go of my prey.

—Listen, Adrián, I know your name. I’m Daniela, Marta’s daughter, the one from the bakery on the corner. Skipping the introductions, I’ll be honest: I think you’re very attractive and I want to get to know you better. I’m going straight for it, life’s short.

—I… I know you, I know your mother —he stammered—. But this isn’t… look, I’m much older than you, and I’m with my son, and I only have eyes for him. I’m sorry.

He was going to get up. I took his hand and, almost without him noticing, brushed his thigh with my fingertips.

—Adrián, sweetheart, don’t fight it —I whispered—. You’re going to be mine, and you know it.

I felt him react under his trousers, even though he was still pretending to be proper. And that, I swear, turned me on even more. A man who resists a little is much more interesting than one who gives in right away.

—No, please… —he said, his voice rough—. You’re a beautiful girl, but I can’t. Maybe another time, but right now I’m with my son and…

—Don’t worry about the kid. Look over there. —I pointed at the kiosk, where Carla and the boy were choosing balloons, laughing—. My friend’s got him occupied for a good while. You and I have all the time in the world.

—But I can’t lose sight of him, I don’t know your friend, I…

I didn’t let him finish. I shut him up with a kiss. And what a kiss. He had an experienced mouth, his beard neatly trimmed, a firm chin. I would have devoured him right there, on the bench, in front of all the mothers in the park.

He kissed me back, but every so often he pulled away, torn between desire and guilt.

—No, we can’t… my son…

I pressed a finger to his lips.

—Follow me. There are too many busybodies here, and that won’t do you any favors. Follow me, handsome.

The poor man obeyed reluctantly, glancing one last time toward the kiosk, where his son was cracking up with Carla, not missing him in the slightest.

***

My place was just around the corner, and my mother wasn’t home. There were no preliminaries. As soon as I closed the door, I yanked off his T-shirt and let him strip me with those big hands that trembled a little. I pushed him onto the bed and made him come down between my legs, and that beautifully shaped mouth, with just the right amount of beard, worked me until I arched my back. He knew what he was doing. He wasn’t some clumsy boy; he was a man who took his time.

Then I returned the favor. I ran my tongue over his broad chest, his forty-something arms that clearly took care of themselves, that sporty cologne smell so different from the smoke and alcohol of my nights. I took him all the way into my mouth and enjoyed watching the mask of the proper man finally slip off.

We ended up tangled in my sheets. He fucked me face-to-face, looking me in the eyes, and then he turned me onto my stomach and grabbed my hips with that contained strength you could sense in every move he made. I came hard, almost angrily, and still had the strength to ride him for a good while longer. He could last more than anyone my age. I was weak from the night’s partying, but I swear that in that moment I wished the morning would never end. It was better than the hottest dawn I’d ever had.

But it didn’t last long. As soon as he caught his breath, Adrián went back to being himself, and guilt rose to his face like a blush different from the one before.

—Look, Daniela, it was amazing, but I’m worried about my son. I’m going back to the park.

—Oh, come on, you’re such a bore —I complained, stretching out on the bed—. We’re doing so well. Go on, I’ll get dressed and we’ll go see your little guy. You’ll see he’s perfectly fine.

***

We got back to the park and, sure enough, the kid was still doing his thing: playing with Carla, throwing water balloons at each other, both of them soaked, laughing their heads off. Honestly, I owed my friend big time, though she seemed to be enjoying it just as much as the boy.

Adrián ran to hug his son, to ask him if he’d had fun. The boy barely paid attention to him; he hadn’t even noticed he was gone, busy as he was riding on Carla’s back. And then I noticed something: the magnetism I’d had over Adrián had evaporated. He was already avoiding my eyes, focused only on his son, without a single extra word or the slightest mention of another date.

I didn’t care. In Spanish there’s a saying: what’s done is done, and I’d done it all. I said goodbye with a smile, helped Carla dry off and collect the burst balloons, and dragged her away down the street with me.

Before leaving I looked back. The mothers in the park were staring at me with a mix of disgust and envy I know well; they knew perfectly what had happened between Adrián and me, even if none of them said it. And the fathers, on the other hand, were clustering around a flustered Adrián who didn’t know where to put himself, half-jokingly asking for my phone number.

I laughed all the way home. Carla nudged me with her elbow.

—You’re impossible, you know that?

—I know —I said—. And by the way, we’ll talk about whether you’d make a good mother. But first, churros. I’ve earned them.