Sunday in the Park

by Renfr

As he got into the car, he told her to be silent. Then he fell silent, himself.

They drove to a park on the other side of the city, a park they had never visited before.

He parked the car and cut the ignition. "Don't move." He got out, came around to her side, and gestured to her to swivel her legs out. As he reached up under her skirt, she felt as much as she heard the faint click of a padlock snapping shut on one of her labia rings. When he stepped back, he was holding one end of a thin chain leash, the other led under her skirt.

It was a cool, clear morning in early Spring. The sun was a low and reddish promise of brilliance to come; the dew-damp lawn a lush pale white-green. The chill chain flickered against her thighs as they strolled the paths.

A year ago she would have slipped into a thoughtless pleasure-state. Beauty all around, and sensuality slowly rising between her legs. Her lover had been a part of such moments, then. Not now. She found the moment thoughtfully planned, as always; but the magic did not work any more. It worked then because he was present, now it no longer worked ... because he was present.

His games just did not amuse her any more. He himself did not amuse her any more.

She still obeyed him, of course. She could not, would not, could not do otherwise. She gave him no reason to complain of disobedience, while she made both their lives hell.

They came to a wooden-slatted bench. "Sit," he said. She looked up at him. The bench was still wet from with dew, and would soak her light skirt. His face wore no expression whatever, which eloquently meant, "Don't talk about it, just do it."

She sat, and the cold flooded through the cloth to her thighs. She shivered.

He knelt, reached under her to the bench. She heard the metallic rippling sound of chain links slipping over one of the bench's bars. He stood and stepped back.

He remained unmoving for a while, looking down at her. She did not meet his gaze. He half-turned, looking down the path, and then up at the sky. He sighed deeply, turning a bit farther, to the point that she could no longer see his face.

"Dear God, this is hard."

She had no idea what he was playing at now. His overacting was annoying. Maybe he wanted her to answer, but he still had not authorized her to speak. So she did not. Served him right.

"I loved you. I did. Maybe still do."

Hey. What is this? What the hell is he doing now? For Christ's sake, just get on with it, fella. Your drama is BORING me.

"Good-bye, Linda." He turned and walked quickly back up the path.

She leapt after him - he couldn't just leave her locked here! The clattering sound of the chain paying out behind her stopped her before it tautened too far. She would have cried out after him, but she knew it would do no good. So she might as well not give him that last satisfaction.

She examined the bench, even though she knew what she would find. She was going nowhere until someone supplied her with either a key or a bolt-cutter.

There was no one around, so she sat back down and gathered the chain under her skirt. If she kept careful posture, the chain was invisible.

She sat for a long, long time. The dew lifted; she stood to let her skirt dry, looking all around her in case anyone should arrive. No one came near.

He was gone. Over. Three fantastic months, fifteen slowly going downhill.

The sun rose. The tops of her thighs turned a light pink, just below the hem of her skirt. She had not been in the sun much since last autumn.

She topped from the bottom, and her contempt drowned them both.

Late afternoon. Thirsty. The sun had not been really hot, but she had been there for over eight hours. She knew she should start screaming for help. She would have to, sooner or later. Before it started to get dark.

She could not bring herself to it.

Dusk.

A man came walking slowly up the path. Big. Way over six feet, and wide and thick to go with the height. She could feel his weight crushing her.

Older, maybe fifty. Good looking, though. No gray.

She liked looking at men. Fair enough -- they usually liked looking at her.

He stopped in front of her, and let his gaze drift slowly over her.

"I do not love you. I do not even know you."

He held out a small key. "This fits the padlocks at both ends of the leash. Give them to me."

She released herself. She handed him the hardware, which he put in a pocket.

"You may follow me, if you wish."

She did.

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Renfr