Park

I had once again come to love the park. Lily fell behind as I skipped ahead, moving in long strides, letting the dress stream behind me. The chilly morning air cut through my comfort, but I kept moving, enjoying the freshness of it all. Around the fountain I went, trailing one hand on the cool marble and the other up in the air. When I came back to where I started, she’d caught up, standing there with an amused look on her face.

My outstretched hand floated near her, and she closed the gap, holding it gently, holding it firmly. I let her change my course, and I spun us around in another circle. She reached out for my other hand to finally still us.

While I caught my breath, she swayed our hands back and forth, and when I’d caught up she leaned in for a kiss. Her lips lingered on mine, long after she’d broken away. A warmth, a taste—a memory I held in place.

“You look beautiful in sundresses,” she said, letting go of my hands and walking forwards.

“I feel a little lewd,” I replied.

Her gentle laughed followed. “Why?”

I took a moment to check around for if anyone else had arrived, then I closed the distance between us in a couple of leaps, before sending myself as high into the air as I could. On the way back to earth, I held the front of my dress down, then turned around with a bright smile on my face.

Her face betrayed her emotions, pale skin accompanied by rosy cheeks. She glanced around, no doubt looking for any other victims of my action, before doing her best to look annoyed with me.

“We’re in public!” she whispered.

I laughed, whispering back, “There’s no one else around.”

“That’s not the point,” she said, storming ahead, but not too quickly. More a drizzle than a tempest. I followed, merely walking, and held her hand. She tried to resist, but gave in and held my hand back. A little warmth before the sun could do its work.

She liked the park for the various flower gardens that dotted the paths. Always colourful, no matter the season, and well looked after; the visitors respected them, never an errant footprint to be seen left in the mud.

I liked it for a break away from the city which didn’t involve sitting on a train for half an hour or anything like that. As well as the flowers, the green space did a lot for me. Gyms and streets didn’t give me the same joy as grass between my toes… and on my legs and shoulders and the back of my neck and my cheek. Basically, grass felt great all over.

We strolled slowly, pausing at each garden and then hurrying to the next. The aroma of nature did wonders for the tension that had wound her up through the week. Well, it left me a little worried I’d have to carry her back home once the tension keeping her upright melted.

But I had forgotten that not all her worries could be dealt with so easily. I spotted a cat in a tree. Leaving her in my dust, I ran over, looking up at the cutie. It meowed at me and I meowed back. I fidgeted, wanting to give it a cuddle. So cute, and fluffy, and ginger! I hardly ever got to see ginger cats!

Before Lily could catch up to stop me, I reached for a low branch, and tensed my muscles.

“Rose!”

And I stopped, turning to look at her with my saddest eyes and saddest frown and in my saddest voice said, “But, kitty!”

“Rose.”

I looked away, not in shame but disappointment. If only I had been quicker… or willing to ignore her.

“Say goodbye. Maybe he’ll come down on our way back.”

Looking up, I asked, “You think it’s a boy kitty?”

“I don’t know.”

Tiptoeing as high as I could, I stared at the cat. “I reckon it’s a girl.”

“Really? Do you even know the difference?”

I shook my head. “It’s just a feeling, ya know?”

“No, I don’t,” she replied. “Come on, it’s getting chilly.”

She turned away, taking a couple of steps, and I seized the opportunity, pulling myself up onto the first branch. I’d already made it out of her reach by the time she realised what was happening and ran over.

“Stop it! Come down here right now!”

“Just a little pet, I promise,” I said, sneaking up a little higher, nearly close enough to the cat.

She spun around, trying to look in all directions at once. “You’re wearing a dress! No climbing trees in dresses!”

I carefully stood up, leaning against the trunk. “Come on, kitty,” I whispered, scratching the branch she was on like I was a sneaky mouse. “Here kitty.”

She meowed at me, so I meowed back. As though made of jelly, she wibbled to her feet and pattered down to meet me. I held back the urge to just ruffle her all up, limiting myself to a little head scratching.

“Good kitty,” I mumbled as she purred. “Such a good kitty.”

A cough from below stilled my hand.

“Thanks kitty, I hope I see you later,” I said, giving her one last pat before adjusting myself back, carefully squatting down and plopping onto the branch. One after another, I climbed down, and I dared not look for too long lest Lily’s gaze kill me.

Once grounded, she tutted at me, my head hanging down. At the least, I had earned my shame.

After a little longer of staring me down, she shook her head and sighed. “You’ve gotten it all dirty,” she said, peeking at my back. “Come here.” I obeyed, and stood still as she brushed off some dirt with her hand.

However, she instantly stopped when I let out a little moan.

I glanced over and caught her blushing, so I laughed. She gave me a light shove, mumbling, “You can clean yourself.”

Sighing, I looked down over my shoulder and gave my bum a few wipes, getting the last of the dirt off. “Good enough?”

“Sure,” she said, looking to the side with still rather red cheeks. So I snuck over and kissed one of them before running off ahead. “Wait up!” she said, her shoes making a tattoo on the pavement.

I led us to the large, open expanse at the centre of the park. Still all alone, I cartwheeled across, letting my fingers feel the grassy goodness while she caught up. When she did, I crashed to the ground, splaying out as though making a snow angel.

“Doesn’t grass just feel great?” I asked.

Panting, she sat down next to me. “Don’t, cartwheel.”

I bit my lip while I thought it over, and came to a conclusion. “But all this nature gives me too much energy.”

She sighed, then her breaths became softer until I couldn’t hear them any more. So I wiggled over, getting nice and close to her and nudging my head onto her lap. Her hand meandered over, stroking my head. Fingers running through my short hair, rain on a hill, washing away my thoughts.

My old memories, of when I got told to stop climbing trees and cartwheeling and rolling down hills and getting all muddy.

Her lips pressed against my forehead, warm. “Sorry,” she muttered, wiping away where she kissed. “Left a little lipstick mark.”

“Put it back,” I grumbled, pouting at her, and she laughed.

“Come on, I’m getting cold,” she said, lifting my head off her.

I grumbled some more, but obliged, sitting up. She brushed errant bits of grass off herself and fixed her hair a little, the long strands tidied back up behind her ear.

Looking back over, she caught my gaze and asked, “What?”

“Nothing,” I said, smiling softly.

She leaned over, offering her hands. Though tempted to pull her over and have a cuddle, I let her help me up.

“Look at you, covered in grass,” she muttered, brushing off here and there on me; I fought the temptation to repeat the earlier routine. Instead, I stood there in silence as she ran her touch all over me, feeling her fingers’ caress. When she finished, she took a step back, and I let out a gentle sigh she missed. “You really do look beautiful in sundresses,” she said, her eyes inching their way up my body.

I swallowed the tingling feelings, and asked, “Really? Why d’you think so?” while giving her a twirl, letting the fabric catch and billow outwards.

“Well, I think sundresses work best on people who are innocent, and playful, and a little mischievous,” she softly said, her breath tickling my lips as she closed the gap between us. “So, I’m glad you choose to wear them sometimes because they fit you so well.”

Darting forward, I stole her lips for a second, then tickled her nose with my own. “Okay, but let’s come back tomorrow and I’ll wear shorts.”

Her smile, less seen more felt with how close we were, beckoned me, but I held off until I heard her reply. “Sure.”

---

Smoothie

I busied myself in the kitchen. When Lily worked from home on my day off, staying busy had been decided to be my top priority. Unfortunately, we hadn’t decided that I had to be busy away from the kitchen—she liked to work on the dining table.

So I kinda tiptoed around, getting a few things ready. Despite never having one before, I had recently come to the conclusion that I needed a blender in my life. Actually eating fruits took too much effort and the less said of vegetables the better.

The farmers’ market occupied my morning and prepared me for the early afternoon. With so much time to waste, I had bought only the finest of fruits and lined them up on the chopping block. A bit of pineapple, some melon, apple to thicken it up a bit. All sorts prepped for decimation (gotta ration appropriately).

Berries and bananas and other prepare-less foods joined the fray, waiting their turn for liquidation. My last treasure from the market, a big ol’ jug of milk, completed the ensemble. Wiggling in anticipation, I poured the first base into the blender. I watched the thick, creamy liquid run down, pooling into a puddle of deliciousness, and wet my lips. “Soon,” I muttered to myself, barely able to stop myself from pouring more. Swallowing the lingering desire to drip drops of milk straight into my mouth, I moved on to the ingredients.

First up, I grabbed a few pineapple cubes, struggling to hold onto the slick, wet flesh. After plopping them in, I watched the milk gobble them up while licking the sweet juices off my fingers.

A heavy breath from the other side of the room got me to turn around and I caught her quickly looking back down at the laptop. Especially with the barest of makeup, her pale skin gave away the warmth of her cheeks. Smiling something coy, I slurped off the rest of the juices and shared a little moan with her. Nothing big, just an appropriate response to a good taste. I ran my eyes over the other options, wondering what went well with pineapple. No doubt, it would be something very fruity, rather than subtle.

That on my mind, the berries drew me over. Raspberries, so ripe I felt the juices spill just from picking them up. I leaned over to lick the drops before they fell and I knew I’d made the right choice as the taste lingered on my tongue. I added them to the mix, careful not to get anything messy. Rinsing off the remaining juice, I wondered if I needed anything else. Those two flavours, so yum, I didn’t think they’d need any more flavour.

Using that thought as guidance, I went for the subtle banana-y taste. Something to thicken it all up a little. I popped in a couple of ice cubes and, hoping it wouldn’t be too loud, kicked it into gear.

It was super loud!

I cringed, hoping I hadn’t surprised her, but not willing to look and make sure. At least, not right away, maybe after a minute when she lost interest in glaring at me and went back to work. After making it to sixty seconds, I turned around a little, glancing over my shoulder. She stared at the laptop. I let out a sigh of relief. Stirring the smoothie about, it felt smooth and chopped. From the spoon, it tasted incredible, a little moan slipping out, but it tasted so good!

Afraid of incurring wrath, I held back from having any more and certainly wouldn’t be covering myself all over with it. Instead, I carefully poured it into a nice, big cup and sent it off to remain chilled for later.

In a more self-controlled fashion, I went about some more smoothing. Melon and apple and some syrup to sweeten it up a little more: that tasted nice and mellow. Strawberries by themselves made something tasty and I struggled to keep my fingers out of the gooey mess. Blueberries, fighting between being sweet or sour, meshed well with orange, balancing it up with syrup.

My desire couldn’t be satiated by the mere tastes I limited myself to though. Every combination only inflamed my need for more, mouth drowning in anticipation. Tensing my muscles and clearing my mind, I tried to rid myself of the impure thoughts.

But then, I opened my eyes and spied the spoon, still coated in the delectable creaminess. I fought and lost, picking it up. My tongue darted out to catch the drop that ran down its length and curled up, letting the flavour spread all over.

The moans I’d held back came back redoubled, but I held strong. Slowly, I brought my tongue up the shaft, cleaning away the layer of joy that remained. Coming to the head, my lips parted, and I let it slide in. My tongue swished back and forth, reclaiming, and I flipped it over to complete the job. With my lips pressed tight, I eased it out, making sure none of the precious juices leaked out.

And then I moaned like I only did in the bedroom.

It kept going and I didn’t want to fight it any longer, my mind aflutter with such flavours. I let it happen, let it leave me breathless and weak-kneed, and maybe a little glowing.

But it could only fade from that point, becoming less and less. Facing reality, I let out a sigh and looked behind me. She looked back, hungry in another way; I had to stop myself lest we both become busy.

“Did… did you want to try a smoothie?” I asked, shuffling back as her intensity began to make me fear for my innocence. “They’re all really tasty!”

She tried to drag her gaze away, but couldn’t, and neither could I. She licked her lips and I replied in kind, finding a stray spot of smoothie. A groan escaped her lips.

“Sorry, did you want that bit?” I asked, and broke the spell.

After shaking her head, probably to clear it as well as signify a no, she took deep breaths. “No, no thank you,” she said, her voice a touch hoarse.

“Okay, well, if you change your mind they’re in the fridge. But, I gotta warn you, I licked the spoon, so they’ve got my cooties.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” she said, lowering her gaze back to the laptop.

Finally, I found relief from the eyes that could undress a Russian doll. Before I dared tempt fate once more, I hurriedly tidied up, leaving out only my favourite of the smoothies. Once done, I started to tiptoe out, but on the cusp of the threshold, she stilled me with her voice.

“Actually, maybe a little glass,” she said, and added, “A tiny glass.”

Before I could come up with the correct response, I replied, “You could just have a sip from here?” offering it up.

She bit her lip and nodded. I gulped, taking a tentative step towards her. Holding it out, I expected her to take it, but it came closer and closer until the rim touched her lips. She closed her eyes, and tilted her head back a little. I tipped the glass, watching the thick liquid near her lips, watching it run over and meet her tongue, watch it spill over a little, dribbling down her chin.

Snapping out of it, I eased it back down and reached for the closest thing like a paper towel I could find, which happened to be an errant slice of nibbled bread. I caught the drips before they dropped, though left some crumbs behind and below.

Not knowing what would happen next, she released me with a gentle laugh. “Well, you can keep the bread,” she said, wiping her chin. “But please go.”

I nodded and then noticed a few little plops on the floor. Distracted already, I got a sheet of paper towel and bent over to wipe it all up before someone stood on it. Preoccupied as I was, the slap on my bum nearly toppled me over. Standing back up, I turned around and said, “Hey,” while trying to look as imposing as I could.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t look very imposing at all. “You’re- you’re too hot,” she said, blushing. “Go away.”

Her words struck deep and my sad face came out as I shuffled out of the kitchen, smoothie in one hand and half-eaten, a little moist bread in the other. I understood she meant no ill, but feeling a nuisance depressed me enough. More than the delicious smoothie could handle, at least. But, it tried as I sat down to watch something to try and cheer myself up some more, keeping the volume low. Waste away the day, sipping on tasty strawberry smoothie, shutting the curtains and flicking on the lamps when darkness came.

Eventually, I heard the familiar click of her laptop lid closing and steeled myself for the scolding. It didn’t take her long to emerge around the corner, looking tired and cute in equal measures. Even if she was gonna tell me off, she still looked totally cute.

What I prepared myself for did not come to pass as she just sat down next to me. Her weight magnified by her fatigue, I almost fell over when the cushion sunk under her, but managed to keep myself upright. She let out a long breath, losing whatever solidness she had left and leaving behind a puddle.

After this went on for a couple of minutes, I asked, “Aren’t you mad with me?”

“What? Why?” she asked, flobbing her head over to look at me.

“Well, I uh, got you all distracted,” I said, as though confessing to a crime rather than telling her something she had been present for. “And you got a little angry with me.”

She kinda blinked at me, pulling herself back into a solid to sit up. “Eh? I wasn’t angry.”

“But, but you smacked me and told me to get out,” I said, the words spilling out.

Her surprised expression twisted into a coy smile and she let out a little snort. “Really? I thought I was being nice.”

“It didn’t feel like it for me,” I said, pouting.

“Well, look at it from my side,” she said, edging closer to me. “I tasted your smoothie, gave you my bread, spanked you, and called you hot.” Closing the last of the gap, she kissed me. “If that’s not nice, I don’t know what is.”

I nibbled at the lip balm she’d left on me, sweeter than anything. “I, er, wasn’t a nuisance then?”

She laughed, a lot lighter. “The biggest nuisance! I wanted to go have a cold shower so I could concentrate.”

“Oh,” I said, lowering my head.

Her hand looped around me, pulling us together. “A few more spanks and we’ll be even, okay?”

I swallowed whatever I wanted to say, and just nodded.

---

Paper Planes

I looked on with eyebrows knotted together, though really they were just pulled a little closer together. But still, it was an extension of my concern, a reflection of Lily. She sat in front of her laptop, bloodshot eyes flickering back and forth riding the coffee highs. As much as she tried to leave work at work on the weekends, it had a nasty habit of sneaking in anyway.

My fretting didn’t help matters though, so I did my best to do things. Cook a good breakfast and coax it down her throat, get all my washing done and the bedding too. Little bit of homely stuff and a little bit of television and a little bit of shopping. Picked up some fresh milk, stopped by the bakery. The book shop had some nice niche things new in stock.

She still tapped away at the keyboard as I prepped lunch. Nothing too fancy, just a sandwich, but nice bread made it taste fancy. She bit my fingers a couple of times, but I got food in her tummy too.

For the afternoon, I’d planned to do a bit of this and that with her, but, well. Perusing around, I ended up settling for a pad of paper and my set of drawing pencils. I snuggled onto the couch, peeking out to spot my unaware model. Lots of long lines for long hair, short curves to catch her lips and nose and eyes, and, stripping away the table, I had to add in some other curvier curves.

After a few more pages of drawing, well, I’d stripped away a bit more than just the table. Smiles, and laughs, and stern, and sad, and distant. I got myself so carried away I didn’t notice when I got a neighbour, only coming out of it after she picked up the finished picture from right in front of me.

“You’ve got a real talent,” she said, her gaze fixated on the reflections. “I’m envious.”

“Well, you could always start now. Better late then never.”

She laughed lightly, though the joy was drained by her tired eyes. “Maybe, maybe not.”

I almost couldn’t ask, afraid of the answer. “Done for the day?”

“Yes,” she said, though it sounded like she didn’t mean it. “Hopefully not much tomorrow. We’ll see.” That meant I’d be entertaining myself on Sunday morning too. “You know,” she said, trailing off for a bit. “I don’t mind, but do you have to focus on, um, my boobs?”

“They’re very nice though,” I replied, letting my hand drift to the picture, brushing the graphite to even out some of the shading.

She swallowed, her eyes following my finger. “Thank you, I guess.”

“You’re welcome.”

I smudged around a little more, trying to get the feel of the depth just right. They changed so much based on posture, every drawing a new exploration of jiggly physics. Sometimes my head started hurting from trying to imagine all the forces acting on them.

Returning back to reality, I noticed she’d been staring at one in particular. “Pain.”

“Huh?” she said, breaking away from it.

I pressed a finger to her pencilled cheek. “This one is titled ‘Pain’,” I said, letting the drawing blur under my touch. Tears turned to swirls, and with a swipe I left behind a crude smudge. “Very cathartic.”

She didn’t look thrilled with it at all. Art remained a static thing in her mind. Interacting with the canvas, well, I think it scared her. She didn’t want to ruin it. With her sitting beside me wound up tighter than a tightly wound up thing, my thoughts raced to find another release for her.

A breeze fluttered through, ruffling my papers. Sliding this way and that, curling around, trying to escape back to nature.

An idea struck me. I shuffled them around, searching for one in particular. “Here,” I said, offering her the first I’d drawn, the one titled ‘Worry’. “Write down everything that’s worrying you. Put it all on here, every last one.”

She accepted it with doubts, her eyes fluttering between me and the paper. But I ignored her and got to work on a self-portrait, so I had my own to do. A rough sketch, more abstract than realist, of a tall, slender lady with short hair and big eyes and a crooked nose and funny ears. Not many curves, lots of long lines, little detail, and little details. Done drawing, I wrote some stuff too. Worries for the future, worries from my past, worries I’d worried myself right over with. Worries I should put behind me.

By the time I’d finished, she had too for a bit. The ink had blotted a bit on the thick paper, but her neat writing was still legible. I didn’t linger. Holding my own sheet, I began folding it and, after a moment, she copied. Fold-unfold to leave a mark, and fold up to the corner, and over this way and that, making it nice and pointy and quite weighty at one end, and then broad at the back. Fold it over, and then fold again for a place to hold, longer so it keeps straight too. A familiar folding I’d found and shared with her because it worked so well.

I took her hand, leading her to the door without our coats, only shoes, and out into the crisp evening air, dusk soon approaching. Before the chills could get under our skin, I got us half-jogging, half-running. It still took a good few minutes and she barely had any breath left, but we made it to the park. Across the paths at a slower pace, out to the clear space in the middle.

After a while further, her breathing settled. The sweat glistened on her skin and, against my hand, her own felt icy. Pale as though taken by the frost. Her hair shimmered as the last rays of sunlight mingled between them.

I gulped, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment to clear my mind. The cool air helped keep me on the straight and narrow.

Whether I needed to say anything, I didn’t know. Things had flowed well enough so far. Rather than risk messing it all up with such silly things as words, I let go of her and switched the paper aeroplane over to the other hand. Pulling back, I pent up all the energy I’d wasted worrying, put it all into my arms and legs, bending my knees and leaning back, and shot the plane as hard as I could, nearly falling over forwards as the momentum left me.

Of all designs, I liked the dart-y ones the best. They let me throw them like that. So I watched my worries fly off, far far to the other side of the grass. I nodded, then turned to her. She shivered a touch and I resisted the urge to touch her too; her moments her own to break.

She looked off into the distance, looking beyond the horizon. Then, she looked down at her plane, fiddling with it a little. Taking a deep breath, she tightened up, muscles squeezing as she tilted forwards into a run. A dozen steps, then she twisted one way before spinning back, throwing with all her weight and more.

Her feet left the floor and the paper took to the air. Soaring in a long arc, up and up, and then down and down and down, pegging into the floor somewhere a fair bit short of mine. Meanwhile, her shoes found the grass slippery on her return and she crashed to the floor.

I ambled over, admiring the sunset. When I got to her, she’d gone all limp, more jelly than woman. “You’re gonna get sick if we don’t warm you up,” I said, squatting down to take an arm. She laughed and pulled on me, trying to take me down to her level. Unfortunately for her, I just brought her up to mine and hugged her tight. Chilled chalk in my arms.

She took a deep breath in, her chest pressing against me. “Thank you,” she mumbled, almost lost to my own chest.

I squeezed her tight as I dared, and then kissed her on the top of her head. “Need a piggyback?”

“No, I can walk,” she said, stepping away from me. After a moment, she came back. “But it’s a little cold.”

Laughing, I gave her another squeeze and then shifted over to beside her. She snuggled into my side, so close it made walking a little tricky. I managed to get us across the park and up the streets as night fell, streetlamps flickering on and houses flicking into light.

Both of us must have been freezing when we got home, a struggle to get the key in. Once inside, I turned the heating on. She’d shuffled off to the kitchen, a click suggesting the kettle had gone on.

Sitting down on the couch, looking at the drawings of her, I smiled.

---

Cycling

I didn't mind losing, not when Lily looked so happy. Autumn leaves littered the ground, filled the canopy, flitted down, colouring the sunlight shades of red. As though planned, she wore red too. A picturesque sight on the bicycle.

To be honest, I could have beaten her. She probably knew that too. It didn't make her smile any less brilliant when she pulled over, waving me on.

“Come on, Rose!”

I didn't want to forget the moment, so I raised the camera and took a photograph. Her laughter looked beautiful in the viewfinder. She looked beautiful.

“Come on!”

Sliding the camera back to my side, I pushed off, the ticking of the wheel returning. She did too. A wonderful sight that ignited an urge to paint, or draw, or write. I never wanted to forget that moment which mattered so little in the grand scheme of things. Those moments of peace we shared.

Those moments of love.