Re: Park: Cris/Sam
She does not. She takes me real serious. [She didn't take him serious at all. Cris smiled. He crossed the park's greenway, baby in hand, as Sam carried the overlarge blanket to the base of a tree. The sun was shaded through leaves here and the late summer heat was pleasant and airy.—The guy was just setting Joey and the carrier up near the tree, so she'd be in-between him and Sam, when the gringa flopped onto the blanket, her back falling away.
The guy stood, hands on his hips, above Sam, moving between her thighs to look down at her long and appreciative. Now he got to take in the overalls and how they clung to her like saran-wrap good and slow. He smiled, a darkness to it that didn't fit with the birds chirping and the cool pressa grass, and he sat on the color-vomit wool. He kicked old ratty shoes off and laid, just below Joey and with his head on Sam's outstretched bicep, and he gave exhaled. He was on his side, facing Sam, and he kissed her arm under his head and looked at her.] ¿En qué estás pensando?