In hindsight, I should have known something was up when she suggested we sit in the theater balcony. It was an art-house film. One of those obscure movies that I normally love, and that only plays for a week in half-renovated, 70 year old movie theaters in college towns. Which also meant there were only six people in the audience. Seats were not at a premium.
I protested, though not very strongly.
"C'mon, it'll be fun." She grabbed my hand and started towards the once elaborately carpeted stairway.
Jill was not like any of the girls I had known before college. We had met two weeks earlier in an American History survey class. Sometime during the professor's first-day overview, between Cotton Mather's war on New England witchcraft and Paul Revere's midnight ride, she had settled into the vacant chair next to me in a flurry of college-rule notebooks and lilac body mist.
Within the week, we were study partners. By the first weekend of the term, she was planted on my lap in my dorm as her tongue worked its way from my earlobe to my lips while I tried to work out why such a gorgeous creature like her would even talk to a first-year history major with a slight astigmatism. To me, she wasn't just cute; she was jaw-dropping, head-cheerleader, Cover-Girl-next-door stunning. Add to that smart, funny, sassy, and utterly fearless, and you can probably understand how I spent most of my time just trying to keep up with her, all the while wondering when the dream was going to end.
As we made our way up the lavish, but neglected stairway, I couldn't help watching her cute butt swing seductively before me in perfect sync with the A-line bob of auburn hair that bounced across her delicate neck. The legs that extended below the hem of her shorts were tight and toned from countless miles of running, with that spectacular suppleness and hue of color that comes from the ideal combination of sunscreen and moisturizer. I could feel the slight pressure growing in my jeans as I stumbled up the stairs that she flew over two at a time.
She turned back and caught me gazing at her lower half and squeezed my hand a little harder.
"Let's go, pervert...move it,' she said under her breath, "We're going to miss the previews." She loved making fun of the previews, coming up with alternate titles for each of the films before they were revealed on the screen.
The house lights went down just as we reached the balcony. It was dark, pitch black, and I couldn't see anything as I felt my way along the rows of aging seats. Jill yanked and pulled me behind like she was wearing night-vision goggles. My eyes started to adjust a bit and I could see that the entire balcony was deserted. To be fair, the rest of the theater was pretty deserted as well, but this part was really empty. Jill paused and seemed to debate over which of the endless deserted rows she liked, quickly deciding on the fourth row back from the railing. She pulled me down next to her in the center of the row. Violating all theater arm-rest protocol, she threaded her arm between my elbow and chest and grasped my hand to interlock our fingers. She rested her head on my shoulder and let out a relaxed sigh. I marveled again at her display of affection and distantly realized I had no idea what the movie we were seeing was about, nor did I care. She was the most intoxicating person I had ever met.
After some playful kissing and snuggling, during which we made up impossibly absurd titles for the coming attractions, we settled into watching what turned out to be a dreary foreign film about an unfaithful wife and her clueless husband. Jill groaned in sarcasm and further encroached on the invisible arm-rest barrier between our seats. I didn't complain.
Midway through the first act β if you could call it that β the tepid dialog and snail's pace plot overwhelmed me and I felt myself starting to doze off. Jill elbowed me a couple of times, to little effect, and finally whispered in my ear.
"Need some help staying awake?"
"Maybe a needle in the leg...or a cattle-prod."
"I was thinking of prodding something else."
When she dropped her hand to my lap it felt like a jolt of electricity went through my crotch. Her breath was hot in my ear as she flicked her tongue across it.
"I think it's time we move the evening's plan forward," she whispered.
"Oh, so you have a plan," I stammered as she squeezed and began rubbing the growing bulge in my pants.
"Call it an idea," she licked my ear again." Something I want to try."
"So the balcony, the boring movie....all part of the plan?"
"Shhh," she giggled, "I didn't expect the movie to be this dreadful." She returned to kissing my neck. "I thought I might have to compete a little for your attention."
"Not very likely,' I whispered back.
"So I see."
The delicate scent of her perfume swirled around me just out of reach, teasing my senses each time she moved to kiss a different spot on my neck. The effect was hypnotic. Unbuttoning my pants, her nimble hand slid inside, and caressed and rubbed the increasingly strained front of my boxer shorts. She gently tapped my obvious erection a couple of times.
"You're a bad boy," she purred in my ear, "You haven't introduced us properly before."
"I....I don't r...r...really...have an excuse." I was having enough trouble just trying to think, let alone come up with a clever retort.
She gave another gentle squeeze.
"One rule," she whispered, "You can't come until I tell you."
"I'm not sure I can stop myself." I was already halfway there. The truth was I had pretty much been in a constant state of arousal since we met, something I was certain she knew going in to this situation.