HEATHER
By Utopian
Chapter 2. The Way of the Stranger
Almost straightaway she knew that she’d do it. She knew she’d be there on the park bench on Tuesday afternoon, sucking something purple. Just because that guy—Valentine—had told her to. That guy, about whom she knew absolutely nothing except his name, but who seemed to know a few things about her, including what colour underwear she was wearing.
But what should she be sucking? She wanted to be a little different from his expectations, to show she still had a mind of her own.
She didn’t want to pick something mundane and unobtrusive, like a pen. A delicious thought occurred to her that she should go to a sex shop and buy one of those dildos or vibrators that’s made from a cast of a real penis, with a great big purple head. But she knew she’d never have the nerve to sit on a park bench with one of those things anywhere near her mouth, however much the idea made her giggle. Besides, she was sure they were bloody expensive anyway—at least the super-realistic ones. She’d seen some piece on late-night TV about how they were hand-tinted; with little old Chinese ladies painting pale blue veins up the shaft. That kind of artistry couldn’t come cheap.
Sunday was hot and she was buying a bottle of Coke in her local corner shop when she saw the picture on the side of the freezer cabinet. A Ribena ice lolly on a stick. She bought one to give it a test run for Tuesday, took it straight home and sat in front of her bedroom mirror sucking it lasciviously. By the time she’d finished her lips were stained with blackcurrant juice. She rather liked the effect. Very goth.
Tuesday morning dragged its heels in arriving. When it came she dressed exactly as she’d been told to. She thought of testing him out by putting on a red bra instead of the purple one, to see if he could really tell. But she was positive she’d give herself away. He sure as hell didn’t have x-ray vision but he’d know from little things about the way she behaved. That was how those so-called mind readers always worked.
The kiosk by the park’s north gate didn’t stock Ribena ice lollies. Shit! Heather realised that she hadn’t exactly planned this mission with military precision. There was a proper shop five minutes’ walk away on the eastern edge of the park. She’d try that.
Success. She bought the lolly and strolled into the park through the nearest set of gates, a different entrance from the one she normally used, and further from the bench. Her main worry was not that she’d be a few minutes late but that the ice lolly would have melted by the time she got there. She left it in its wrapper for now and held it by the stick.
Heather’s alternative route took her past the park’s only distinctive feature, a cute little building that served as the park-keeper’s hut. At least it used to serve that purpose until modern park-keeping began to mean having big, ride-on mowers and leaf blowers and other equipment that would no longer fit through the old door. A corrugated steel cabin had been erected close to the western gate and the old hut now stood empty.
But no one was going to knock it down. It was quite the most remarkable building in the whole area. It dated from the park’s opening, sometime during Victoria’s reign, but had been designed to look much older, even then. Essentially, it was a little thatched cottage. Yes! With real thatch! The cottage was octagonal in shape, with narrow lattice windows that barely admitted any light.
When she was younger, Heather used to think that she’d like to live in that cottage. OK, so it would be one-room living and it was hard to see how you could get a shower or cooker inside—and no chance of a bathtub. But never mind that: how romantic!
There were other impracticalities too. Gangs of youths would often loiter outside, lolling against the walls, scrawling graffiti, leaving litter. It didn’t help that the overhang of the thatch provided shelter from the rain. But the park people did a good job of cleaning up and stopping anyone from breaking in. Still, it would be annoying to have kids leaning against your house all day.
Also, the park was locked at night. How would she be able to come and go between sunset and sunrise? Well, they’d need to let her have her own key to the nearest gate. That would be cool.
Heather was well past the old cottage now and she refocused her mind on the present. She could see the bench in the distance. Someone was sitting there but from this distance she couldn’t tell whether it was him. After a few more steps she could make out his reclining form; that way he had of stretching out almost horizontally as he leant back.
Heather removed the lolly’s wrapper and dropped it in a bin. She began to suck, trying to do it slowly and gently because the ice had already softened and she feared it might be all gone before she reached the bench. She quickened her step.
He was gazing westwards as she approached from behind. She hoped he wouldn’t think she was trying to sneak up on him. Should she apologise for being late? She thought not. It wouldn’t look cool.
Heather arrived at the bench just as the last remnants of the lolly broke away from either side of the stick and melted on her tongue. She was left sucking the stick itself. Still, she hoped this might look quite fetching, if she let its tip play around her empurpled lips.
Valentine looked at her and nodded. He didn’t scold her for being late but nor did he applaud her compliance with his silly request, nor comment on her underwear. However, he studied her lips for a while, which she supposed was a good thing. Eventually he spoke, and there was an interesting change in his tone. Not exactly friendly but not as brusque as usual.
“I wonder if you’d mind meeting me here again tomorrow evening?”
“I suppose I could,” Heather replied, “although our meetings never seem to amount to much.”
She thought she detected a hint of a real smile, but he didn’t deal with the issue.
“Can you be here at a quarter past eight?”
“Erm... yeah. But I think the park closes at eight thirty.”
“I know it does. See you tomorrow.”
That night Heather tried to think sensibly. It was no use telling herself she shouldn’t go. She knew she would. But she ought to take some kind of precautions. She’d have to tell Sara. Sara was her best friend, but Heather hadn’t divulged a hint of this whole business to her so far.
She would tell Sara that she’d call her some time between nine and nine thirty and if she didn’t call, Sara was to contact the police. Sara would want to know more, of course, but Heather could just be all mysterious about it. It wouldn’t hurt her image to appear to have some naughty secret. Heather hoped that Sara didn’t think she was making it all up, to add some imaginary excitement to her quiet life.
Of course, if she was really being sensible she’d give Sara some more information about where the police might find her naked and mutilated body, but she wasn’t going to reveal any more, even to her best friend.
How should she dress? Valentine hadn’t given her any instructions about that. He hadn’t told her anything except where to be, and when. She decided on a knee-length denim skirt and a not-too-tight top. And trainers, in case she had to run fast for some reason. Clearly this was a long way from being the most alluring possible outfit, but she wasn’t going to hang around in the park just before closing time wearing a ra-ra skirt and stilettos.
She was there a little before 8.15. She’d texted Sara with her request and Sara had sent a “What the fuck???” response almost immediately. Heather had replied promising to reveal more later, although she doubted whether she really would.
Valentine wasn’t at the bench but she saw him striding towards her from the west gate, making no attempt to surprise her this time. As he reached her, he slowed his pace but didn’t stop.
“Come with me,” he instructed her.
Heather rose to her feet and followed him, taking a few yards to catch him up. She wanted to ask where they were going, but she knew she’d only get told to wait and see, or something like that. So she just walked alongside him. Two could play at being silent and aloof.
A couple of patrolling park staff were herding the last few stragglers towards the exits, but Heather and Valentine appeared to be making straight for the east gate so there was no need to approach them. They were nearing the old cottage now. Heather wanted to tell Valentine about her childhood fantasies of living there but he wasn’t the sort of person she could chat to like that. For a moment she wished she was with someone else. Anyone else.
As they reached the cottage, Valentine looked around, whipped a key from his pocket and opened the door, hustling her inside with him. Heather wanted to pull back, maybe even to run, but she froze when she saw the interior. Daylight was fading and it was dim inside but she could see that the place was clean and freshly painted. An antique desk and a chest of drawers occupied opposite walls, but most amazingly a three-seater sofa sat in the centre, with plump cushions, all covered in a soft-looking purple fabric.
Heather couldn’t keep quiet any longer.
“Oh my god! Did you arrange all this? How? Why?”
Valentine looked ever-so-faintly smug, but all he said was, “Shhh. They’re still closing up the park. We don’t want to attract attention to ourselves.”
He locked the door from the inside. Heather would have been scared half to death if the cottage had been dank and cobwebby, but the homely decor reassured her. For a moment, her childhood daydreams came back to her. She imagined spending the night here, but realised that her mother might have something to say about that.
A minute later her romantic illusions were shattered. Valentine had been peering through the window at the departing park-keepers and now he turned to face her. Unbuttoning his jeans and pulling open his boxers, he addressed her firmly.
“Get on your knees and suck my dick.”
Heather stared at him dumbfounded. She could hardly believe what she’d heard. Had he gone to all this trouble just to get a blowjob? This was bizarre. She put her shoulder bag on the floor and tried to steady her whirling mind and her wobbling legs. She found herself stepping towards him and dropping to her knees as she’d been bidden. Valentine’s cock was already hard—and pointing straight at her wide-eyed, open-mouthed face. He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders.
Heather thought that if she hesitated she might faint or burst into tears or something stupid like that. She leaned forward and took his penis into her mouth. She’d given blowjobs before and from the way the boys had reacted she’d discovered that she seemed to have a natural talent for it. For all his mind reading, this was something Valentine didn’t know. He was about to find out.
Valentine was well-endowed but Heather had no difficulty taking the gleaming glans and most of the shaft into her warm, wet and even slightly greedy mouth. Saliva flooded around her tongue and there was a slurping noise as she began to suck. She bobbed her head with a confident, piston-like action. Valentine began to moan. It occurred to Heather that she was starting to enjoy herself. She slipped her hands around the backs of his thighs and pulled him a little further into her mouth.
In what seemed liked a very short time, Heather felt the whole of Valentine’s body begin to lock up and then to shudder. He uttered some unintelligible expletives and then bellowed like a charging bull as her lips sensed his semen coursing up the length of his shaft. A split second later his torso convulsed as though hit by a Taser and he erupted into her throat.
Heather kept sucking until she’d milked him of all he could give, swallowing voraciously. She thought she almost felt his knees buckle beneath him. He staggered backwards away from her. Now it was his turn to be wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
For the first time since she’d met him, Heather felt like she had the upper hand, although she didn’t know what to do with it. She allowed herself a small smile and subtly licked her lips.
“I thought you older guys were supposed to be able to last longer,” she said, and gave him a cheeky grin.
“I... uhh...” he gasped and then stopped trying to speak.
Valentine exhaled unevenly. There was nothing he needed to say: his body had already delivered its verdict. He re-buttoned his jeans somewhat clumsily and half-collapsed in one corner of the sofa while Heather decorously perched herself at the other end. It was several minutes before he regained his composure.
“I’m developing a new plan for you,” he announced eventually. His breathing still wasn’t quite back to normal.
“To be honest, I was going to have my fun with you and then fuck off. But you have more potential than I’d realised. I think you can be of further use to me.”
Heather was still feeling buoyed up with confidence and didn’t take offence at his choice of words, although she easily could have. She arched an enquiring eyebrow at him.
“Oh? In what way?”
Valentine gave her one of those looks of his.
“I want you to set a bad example.”
If Heather had been expecting any particular answer, it hadn’t been this one. She was momentarily thrown.
“What the hell does that mean?”
The scales of power were already beginning to tip back in Valentine’s favour. He settled back on the sofa and stretched out his legs.
“You’ll see.”