Matinee

The theatre is dim when we enter, the pre show advertisements beginning to scroll past in anticipation of the start of the movie. Turning, we both see that the theatre is nearly empty, not surprising for the middle of the afternoon on a weekday.

Two men, each sitting with a seat between them, are near the front of the auditorium. It is such a guy thing to do and we both laugh under our breath as we begin to climb the stairs. When two men go to a theatre, they space an empty seat between them, least some beautiful woman walk into the theatre by herself and see them sitting so close. They silently hope that that mythical, single woman does walk in and delicately ask, with a voice that drips of sex, if the chair between them in taken.

I snicker again at the thought and you turn to look at me over your shoulder, lifting a finger to your lips, a gesture meant to silence my laughter. This only makes me laugh harder and I have to slap my hand over my mouth to control the laughter. We settle into the middle seats of the second to last row. I hate the feeling of the wall behind me in a theatre; it presses down and makes me feel boxed in. You know this and always sit here for that reason.

Just as we remove our coats, the reel clicks and the movie begins to play. It is in black and white and the text on the screen announcing the title is in French. As much as I hate foreign films, you love them. I go willingly with you every few weeks, just as you sit one row away from the top just for me.

I settle back into the chair, resting my head against the seatback and lift my feet to sit on the chair in front of me. My plans for the movie were shot the moment we walked into the theatre and found the men sitting in the front row, so I plan to relax while you enjoy the movie. I know if I start to snore, you will wake me up. Though my plans again change when the intricate plot intrigues me and I am drawn into the movie at once. Seems there will be no need for you to wake me up after all.

A movement from below catches my attention several minutes later and pulls me away from the movie almost immediately. There is only one man visible where the two were sitting when we entered the theatre. Interest quipped; I lean forward and to the side slightly.

I see a mass of golden brown curls in the lap of the man still sitting, his eyes watching the screen but his interest focused downward as his eyes closed somewhat in satisfaction. As I watch, his hand lifts to rest on the kneeling mans' head and his eyes shut completely as he gives himself over to sensation.

I laugh once, under my breath, and settle back into the seat. Seems I wasn't the only one with that idea.

"They certainly didn't waste any time, did they?" Your voice breathes hot in my ear as you lean over to whisper in it, your eyes never leaving the screen.

I nodded my head in agreement and rest my hand lightly above your knee. The hem of your skirt presses against my palm and my eyes slide away from the screen as I move my hand upward.

A smile turns up the corners of your mouth and you reach down, sliding my hand between your thighs and under the ruffled hem of your skirt.

A muffled cry is heard from the lower tier of seats and I raise an eyebrow at you when the second man reappears, sitting twice as far from the man responsible for the sound as he did before. "Like that is it?" I whisper to you under my breath. It is your turn to smile and nod.

The movie continues, oblivious to where my hand rests or the activities of the other theatergoers. The curly haired man coughs loudly and our heads turn at the same time to the other man. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and even from this distance I can see his hesitance.

"Someone doesn't know how to give as good as he gets." You whisper to me.

My hand slides toward your hips and you inhale sharply as my fingers brush against you unimpeded by any scrap of fabric. "Lucky for both of us, I do." I turn to face you then, forgetting the images flashing on the screen. Your lips part in anticipation as I lean into you hovering a hairsbreadth away.

My fingers press against your thighs and with unspoken instructions, your legs part and give unlimited access to my hand. I trail a single finger over you and am not surprised to find you damp. Your breath pants lightly next to my cheek as I lower my face to your neck. Soft wet tongue glides along you neck, your pulse tripping as your heart begins to race.

My fingers press forward, two of them easily slipping inside and you bite down hard on your lip to keep from crying out. Movie and other occupants of the theatre forgotten now, you lift one leg up to drape over the armrest. My fingers come to stop against your pubic bone and your eyes close in pleasure.

This is how I like you the best. Oh sure, I could have you anywhere I wanted. Anywhere you wanted. But the darkness of the movie theatre is one of my favorites. Cinemas are always touted as an escape from reality, so where better else to have you. I shift my fingers slowly out, stopping before extricating them fully and I can see you winced. The anticipation daunting but exhilarating.

My free hand lifts the armrest between us and I scoot closer, raising my hand to gently cup your breast in my hand. Your eyes squeeze shut as you struggle to maintain control. This is also the other reason I enjoy having you in a movie theatre.

You are a screamer.

You enjoy making noise while I am inside of you; you know it fuels my own internal fire.

My teeth close over your nipple through your thin cotton shirt and your chest rises sharply as you inhale. My finger slips into you once again, catching you off guard and a soft moan emits from your throat. You catch yourself and struggle to take a deep, calming breath. Your hand lifts from between us and you rest it lightly on my thigh, your skin hot through the denim of my jeans. An index finger lifts and it is my turn to inhale sharply as it grazer the side of my breast.

You never could keep your hands off of me.

I release your chest, guiding my hand around to press your lower back forward, a signal to you to shift your hips. I press my fingers up as you do, but this time you are prepared and ground yourself eagerly down on them. I twitch them once. That, you were not expecting and fingers of your free hand grip the back of the chair.

I lift my face back to your neck, sliding my tongue against the back of your ear and your hips shift again, urging me to finish you, quickly, just this once. Lifting my face, I see your eyes pleading for the release I control.

Briefly, I ponder letting you squirm. Keep my fingers inside of you, unmoving. Leaving you wide open like this for the rest of the movie. But your finger slides down the curve of my breast and I realize I am impatient too. I want your release as much as you do.

Let's show them how it's done, I thought and piston my fingers into you. Your voice echoes off the gaudy red plush covered walls as my fingers violently bring you to the edge. You hover there for a moment, reveling in the pulsating waves that begin to course through your pelvic muscles.

My mouth captures yours seconds before you crest and I willingly swallow your screams. Slick heat drenches my hand and that alone send me careening past my own release. Our voices meld together in our throats as we both return to ourselves together.

Mouths parting, I press my fingers fully into you and hold them there as another quick punch slams into you. Your breathing slowly returns to normal and it is only then that I extract my fingers from deep inside of you. Our mouths meet in a fierce kiss, the fire never extinguished between the two of us even so soon after release. My finger traces the line of your lips as we part and we both groan softly as the taste of you explodes in both our mouths.

The movie reel ends and the lights of the theatre are raised, startling us back into reality. A flash of light catches my eye and I turn to see the overhead lights shining off the glasses of one of the men. Both are turned to face us; their mouths open in shock at what they have just witnessed.

Your face flushes pink in embarrassment and you stand, reordering your clothes to a semblance of normalcy after such an open act of sex. I gather both our jackets and stand as well, grabbing your hand and pulling you to me.

I could care less that they are blatantly watching us. They were concerned about discretion in the theatre, a fact made obvious by the act they themselves performed in the dark of the theatre. Ours will not stop with the raising of the lights, the ending of the movie. I already have plans for us when we leave the theatre.

Despite your hesitancy, you willingly part your lips and softly moan as my tongue slides into your mouth. One of the men clear their throats and we part, both smiling at them as they glance over their shoulders as they exit the auditorium. A sly smile lights up your face and you slip the coats out of my hand, dropping them onto the row of seats in front of us.

Your thin fingers pop the top button on my jeans, the sound mixed in with the dimming of the lights and the start of another movie reel. I willingly let myself be pushed back down into my seat because it seems like you have plans of your own.