The theatre was old and the chairs showed their age: their undersides scratched, cement-colored paint rubbed away around the edges, exposing the metal beneath. The red velvet insides looked the color of dried blood in the hazy pre-film light.
The man pulled his aisle seat down like a lever and sat, grimacing at the lumpiness beneath him and the unpleasant squealing that accompanied all the fidgeting it took to get moderately comfortable and make peace with his position.
Glancing to his left, he made out the forms of people in twos and threes, and few singletons like himself. Not many people came to this old theatre anymore…not since that fancy multi-screen cinaplex had opened the year before.
Glancing to his right, just before the lights went to black, he saw one single woman and a man in his same row, at the opposite end.
The screen came to life with light and image, and the sound, a bit tinny and certainly not surround like the cineplex surely offered, filled the large room to the rafters.
The light glowed against the faces of the spectators, and from the corner of his eye, he saw the man at the opposite end of his row stand, move up the red-carpeted walkway, and out the double doors at the back.
He felt a vibration beneath his seat and looked down between his feet at the floor. His brow crinkled and his eyes squinted in question. What was that?
Looking back to his right, he saw the woman, now alone, fully lit up by the screen…her skirt up, exposing her thighs, and her hand clearly between them, vigorously moving forward and back, up and down.
With a sharp intake of breath, he stiffened and stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched and eyes wide.
Had he truly just witnessed what he thought he had?
His chair began to vibrate more vehemently, the whole bank of seats swaying in tandem with the movements of her left arm.
He couldn’t help but look again, this time, his gaze catching hers…a smile lacing her lips, the light causing her teeth to sparkle between them.
Panicking, he looked forward again, unsure whether he should stay or get up and leave. He felt frozen…paralyzed…unable to react.
He closed his eyes and focused on his breath until the vibration stopped. Biting his lip, he slowly opened his right eye, trying to gauge her position peripherally without giving himself away…but she was there, beside him, sitting.
“Come with me,” she whispered.
And as if he’d never had a wisp of common sense, he did.
She stood and slid between his knees and the seat in front of him. The small of her back and the rise of her backside underneath the pleated skirt filled his view for a the short time before she made her way to the aisle, dimily lit on both sides by tiny lights wrapped in plastic tubing. The soft glow of it licked the backs of her calves as she moved slowly up the path toward the double doors. She didn’t look back, but he followed her anyway.
The light in the lobby blinded him briefly, but he saw the woman walk out the glass doors at the front of the lobby into the afternoon sun.
And he followed, a quizzical expression stealing his features, his head leaning left-ward like a confused puppy, and a strange smile painting his lips. He wondered if next a band of thugs would jump out and steal his wallet or drag him into the back of a van and drive away.
But that didn’t happen.
The woman walked crossed the street and into a department store. So he crossed the street and walked into the department store, too, looking this way and that until he caught a glimpse of the back of her walking into the women’s changing rooms.
He stalled for a moment, but then puffed up his chest with air and followed. Resolute and uncharacteristically confident.
He entered the changing room, quiet and empty, save for himself and a mysterious woman, in late afternoon, and at the end of the row of small curtained rooms, he saw one curtain billow in invitation. He imagined that he felt the soft breeze of its movement puff against his cheek, but that was impossible. He was still several feet away.
He stepped forward…left, right, left…and reached out to pull the curtain aside.
Inside, the man and the woman both kneeled before him. He almost backed out. But he didn’t. His feet rooted him to the spot.
The woman unbuttoned her shirt and pulled the tails out from her skirt, letting the fabric fall away from her. The man beside her, already undressed to his boxers, unclasped her bra and slid it down her arms to leave her breasts hanging free.
Our man simply stood there, awestruck and speechless in their presence.
The woman took hold of his belt buckle, undid it, unzipped his pants, and pulled them (and his boxers) down around his ankles, leaving him exposed to the draft of the air-conditioned room. He looked down at himself, watching his penis recede in reaction to the cold, and then reassert itself like a soldier, independent from his body.
She took it in one hand, the other cupping gently underneath his scrotum, as the man on his knees leaned forward, taking our man’s cock into his mouth.
At first, he went rigid, every ounce of him disinterested in having a man suck him off, but then…his body, once again, in solidarity and rebellion, melted into the feeling of heat and softness and pressure.
He closed his eyes, knees weakening between taut thighs and calves, ass cheeks clenched.
Her small, cool hand remained, encircling his sack, her fingers rubbing and tickling his pereneum, pressing into it softly.
He moaned quietly, trying hard to keep his sounds to himself. Having never been blown by a man, he was unaccustomed to the feeling…a bit rougher…a touch stronger…teeth grazing him…just beneath painful…just above ecstatic.
Two large hands grabbed his ass cheeks, pulling him forward. The man on his knees took our man deep into his throat, over and over until the saliva began to dribble down his lightly stubbled chin, dripping on the slightly stained brown paisley carpet of the dressing room.
And suddenly, he let go, his mouth and lips releasing our man’s cock, letting it gently bounce to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
He looked down in suprise, just in time to see the woman take him into her mouth, and the man push her skirt up over her bare ass. He lurched forward a bit, almost losing his balance. The other man pulled his dick out through the front flap of his boxers and, with little more than a quick pull-back of his foreskin, sunk it deep into her obviously well-lubricated cunt.
Our man stood, dumbstruck, his cock so hard it was almost painful, his abdomen folding in on itself, beginning to spasm, as he heaved forward. Almost without realizing it, he grabbed hold of the back of her head, taking a fistful of her soft auburn hair in his fist.
And then he caught the sight of them, all three, in the fitting room mirror…the woman on her knees between them, her face buried in his crotch, his hand on the back of her head, the other man behind her on his knees, plunging into her from the back.
He watched them for a moment, awestruck…and exploded into her mouth, folding forward as if someone had just slugged him in the gut and grunting with the force of it.
The man behind her followed his lead, veins popping out in his temple, his neck, and his biceps as he also exploded into her.
A sweet voice came from down the hall.
“Can I get you any other sizes…maybe a different style?”
The woman between them finally and, for the first time since her whispered invitations, spoke, “No, I’m fine, I have everything I need in here, thank you.”
“Alright, let me know if I can help.”
The woman looked up at our man, pearlescent rivulets dripping from both corners of her mouth, “Maybe next time.”