Around The Park by May Slater

Find more from this author on:

Amazon

Author Site

About the author:

May Slater writes sexy romance and adventure, often with a bisexual twist.

What inspired you to write your book?

I wanted to study a possible complication of having more than one relationship going on at once. What could happen if you weren't the one with the biggest secret? What if your lovers knew about each other? Or were more intimately involved than you could possibly suspect?

Here is a short sample from the book:

Anne ran home from work, taking a different route every day, to keep the experience fresh. Except for Tuesdays, when she always went the same way.
The large, honey coloured blocks of the shoulder high wall were blackened from years of traffic fumes. She always worried what the air pollution could be doing to her lungs when she saw the accumulation of soot and fumes like that. It was why, most of the time, she ran along river banks or around parks.
Like the one she was coming up to. The break in the wall revealed two flights of steps up and into the greenery. The front edges of the steps were worn down into shallow U shapes, the legacy of a century of feet. At the top of the steps were gate posts with a simplified fleur-de-lys carved into them, topped by squat, square based pyramids. Ornate wrought iron gates hung from the posts. They were latched back against little posts, and the shrubs behind each of them reached out thin branches and deep green leaves as if to grasp them.
The park wasn’t very large, a rectangle about the length of a football pitch, but not as wide. At one end, to Anne’s right, beds had been cut out of the grass, and now were a display of reds, whites and yellows, all the flowers in full bloom. The other end of the space was lawn, lightly concave out from the middle of the space to the neat edges along the sides of the path around the perimeter. There was a gate at each corner, and two more halfway along the longest walls- the one Anne had come in through, and another directly opposite.
Anne stopped for a moment. She put her head back and shook sweat dampened dark blonde curls. The strand of hair that had stuck itself to her forehead didn’t move, so she pushed it back from where it had been tickling her eyebrow. She took a swig from the water bottle in her right hand, then got the wrap around sunglasses sitting on the bridge of her pert nose again.
She found the cable that swirled from the phone, in its holster on her upper right arm, and pressed the button to stop playback. Then she pulled the buds from her ears. There was nowhere to store the cable in her tight jogging outfit, so she tucked a short length of the cable under the strap of her crop top. It would do to hold it in place for as long as she needed.
The shrubbery and trees formed a barrier, keeping out the fumes and noise from the road. Anne listened to the rustle of the branches and leaves in a light breeze. The green murmur was joined by the happy shouts of children at the far end of the park, enjoying running around and throwing themselves on to the short grass of the lawn.
After another swig from the bottle, she jogged on the spot for a moment, getting her rhythm back, then set off around the path to the opposite gate. As she passed the children, one of them, a little girl in a pale blue dress, pointed at her. She waved back, and the child laughed and ran off to play with her friends.
There was a small pavilion at this end of the park. It was more of a large shed with an open front and a bench along the back wall, closer to an old fashioned, brick built bus shelter than its name suggested. Sitting on the bench, chatting and occasionally checking up on the children, were two young mothers. On the other end of the bench, a young man- late teens or early twenties- looked up from his phone screen and, with no subtlety at all, watched Anne as she jogged past.
It was always gratifying to be checked out. Since she had started running, Anne had tightened up the slight flab she had been self-conscious about, and was very comfortable in her body. Affirmation, in the form of the male gaze, was always welcome, though.
She was short and trim, with shapely legs and arms. Her flat stomach was on show, thanks to the tight crop top, which made the most of her small breasts. The skin tight jogging bottoms showed off the firm roundness of her buttocks. She slowed a little, and adjusted her gait to put a roll into the cheeks. She might as well give the horny teenager something to stare at, she decided, grinning.
Reaching the corner of the lawn, Anne sped up again, sprinting half the length of the park to get to the gate. Through the gate, Anne entered a quiet street. Dead ending against the park, it wasn’t going to get any through traffic, though at this time of day there was the occasional car returning from the commute. She jogged along the pavement, rather than down the middle of the road, as she would have liked.
The tall, semi detached houses were dark red brick and stone, set back from the pavement by tiny yards. Most of them had been broken down into flats, for young professionals. Anne dodged around an opening car door, giving silent evil vibes toward the suit wearing idiot who had almost knocked her down. She forgot the incident quickly, not letting it tamp down the excitement as she approached her destination.
On the corner of the junction with a larger cross road was a newer building. It was set further from the street. Built in paler, almost orange, brick, it was a dull, square three storey block, with white plastic window frames and dark brown painted front door. Anne looked around, though she wasn’t sure what she was checking for, then walked briskly to the door.
Beside the door was a brushed metal plate with buttons for the nine flats. Anne pressed number four. Almost immediately, there was a buzz and light clunk as the door lock released. She pushed through, and all but ran across the foyer to the stairs. Climbing it two steps at a time, she grasped the bannister and swung her weight around the turn on the landing.
Number four was right beside the top of the stairs. The door was already cracked open, waiting for her. She bustled inside and closed it behind her.
Simon was waiting for her beside the door. He was already naked, and had clearly been thinking about her arrival. She dropped the water bottle, and reached out for his erection. He caught her hand, just as she knew he would. Pushing her against the door, he lifted her hand up and pressed it against the top of the frame. She kept it there when he released it, and let him lift her other hand up to join it.
Crossing her wrists, Anne pretended her hands were now tied up above her head. She showed that she was happy to let him do what he wanted with her.