I Dont Even Know Your Name 3

Chapter 1: I Don't Even Know Your Name

I'm not thinking about sex when I first walk into the movie theatre.

My friends are out of town, on vacation for the long weekend. I had been planning on going to the beach with them, but my boss needed me to come in tomorrow, Saturday. I decided to indulge in a silly film to relieve my stress, but regret that decision each step I take down the street towards the cinema. A thin film of sweat clings against my neck, and my long, thick hair begs to be pulled up. By the time I sit down in front of the screen, my feet ache so much, I kick my patent leather pumps off immediately. My toes wiggle, thankful to be freed.

The good thing about this theatre, I soon realize, is that these soft, red leather seats recline. I feel like I'm sitting in a La-Z-Boy. I lean my head back, close my eyes, and feel the AC cooling my hot skin. I hike my dress a little above my knee caps, stretch my legs out. I raise my arms up, crane my neck back, and sigh. Everyone having left to vacation for the long weekend, I have the whole theatre to myself. I stretch harder, feeling the muscles in my arms and legs lengthen. It hurts in the good kind of way. I groan and stretch deeper. I have been on my feet all week, giving presentations, running from meeting to meeting. I need this. Finally, I lay back down peacefully, and open my eyes. A man is now sitting next to me.

Oh God! How much has he seen? I feel immediate embarrassment. It's unsettling to know that a stranger has seen you at your most vulnerable, at your most

you.

I think we are only really ourselves when we are alone. And this man saw all of that, all of me. The shame turns to anger quickly though, when I see that the rest of the theatre is still empty. Yes, I'm sitting in the perfect row, in the middle seat, but he had no need to sit

right next to me.

I shoot him a glance. He isn't watching me. He's playing on his phone.

"Movie nerd", I think, "Needs to be in the best seat in the house, even if it means being completely socially inept."

I'm not going to move on account of this jerk. I play around on my phone, but feel unsettled by his presence. I look over again. No, I'm not unsettled. I'm attracted. You see, I live a boring, efficient, practical adult life. I work all day, come home, make dinner, and go to bed. Sometimes I hit the gym. Sometimes I see friends. I never do anything crazy, or spontaneous. I'm always too tired at the end of the day. I don't have time for men, or dating, so I pretend like that's not something I need.

But then, people like this movie theatre guy come along, and I feel my hormones rushing, reawakening. Despite the AC, my blood is rushing and warming my skin. I look over at him again. Short, cropped blond hair. He looks tall, his body looks good. I only see his profile, but he has a strong jaw, strong nose. He looks very European. Not usually my type, but something about his confidence makes my stomach drop. Not once does he seem phased, or look over at me.

It has been a long week, fraught with frustration. I know I have to do something bold. I don't want to talk with this guy. I want to fuck. I take a deep gulp, a breath in, feel my stomach rising and falling. He didn't sit next to me because he wanted this seat, I tell myself. He sat next to me because he saw me stretching, saw my enjoying myself. And I was going to enjoy myself even further.

I place a hand on his knee. He freezes. Fuck. I'm actually doing this. Holy shit. I keep my hand there.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey", I say.

I'm not going to let this get awkward.

"There are so many empty seats. Why did you sit here?"

"I liked the view."

My heart falls. Shit, my first impulse was right. I look down. Take my hand away. He grabs it before I can.

"I saw you stretching, and thought, I need to be next to someone so at peace."

I want to laugh out loud. At peace? Was he looking at the peace on my face, or my bare legs stretching, my arms raised, my neck craning, my back arching?

"I can't lie. You sitting here disturbs my peace a bit."

"I'm sorry," he says.

I'm not playing around anymore. Fuck these games. Fuck this talk. I lean in and press my lips hard against his. He instantly responds. His hands cradled my face. I part my lips and slip my tongue into his mouth. I rub my hands up his legs, go further, feel the strength of his stomach. He responds by grasping my waist, pulling me closer. I reach my right leg to intertwine with his left. I hoist myself up, and sit on his lap, straddling him. He continues to grasp my waist, to work lower, lower. He finds my ass and lightly squeezes. I arch my back in response, and rotate my hips into his grip. I work my hands lower, lower, down to his belt. Suddenly, he stops.

"I don't even know your name", he says.

"And you won't", I reply.