It was another late night in a job that was becoming increasingly meaningless. Julie found herself caring less and less about if the clients were happy, if the products got to the store on-time. But having been a good girl all her life, she knew she would never let them down. She would work late, would do whatever it took. But still she wondered, "When do I get to be happy?"
The job, the stress, and her unhappiness were sabotaging her love life. Too many late nights and dinners apart, she often found her husband asleep in front of the TV when she finally got home. Even if she weren't exhausted, even if she knew she could still feel that spark, sex with her husband had, somewhere along the line, become perfunctory. Part of it was her own fault, her inability to express her secret wishes and naughty desires. She couldn't imagine the look in his eyes if she told him what she really wanted, to be treated like a dirty whore. The few times she suggested naughty things, he was not only unresponsive but mildly shocked and somewhat annoyed.
It was another drawback from her good girl personality, her eagerness to please and inability to make her own needs a priority. Although she knew Jim loved her very much, she sometimes felt like she somehow had him fooled. He fell in love with the perfect wife, the professional, who liked to cook him nice dinners and entertain their friends. There was no room in his perception of her for the nasty slut she craved to be. She knew he joked with his buddies about their promiscuous single friends. The guys even contemplated a pool: Who would be hottest in bed? But she knew that Jim felt those qualities were not appropriate for the woman that was his wife. She worried that if he knew her inner burning secret, he would be disgusted with her.
Because she wanted to be a whore. She craved it more than anything. She wanted to be used, to give up control completely and become a vessel of pleasure. And she wanted to do so for many men. She shocked even herself with the dark places her fantasies took her mind while Jim was dutifully making love to her. Thoughts of an assembly line of men, each taking from her what they wanted as they banged her, pounding one after the other into her juicy cunt. She could orgasm from Jim's gentle ministrations only as the wicked and twisted images echoed in her brain.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" she often wondered. "Where did this come from?" Yet sometimes, she argued with herself, asking what was so wrong with it? And even more scarily for Julie: Did she really love a man if she couldn't share her secret self with him? She felt she did love him but accepted that this was something she couldn't share. She often fantasized about having an affair, but she wasn't sure she had it in her.
Leaving the office around 9 pm, she was especially down tonight. She needed something, some bit of excitement, anything to break this monotonous routine. She had nothing to look forward to at home except Jim snoring on the couch, and maybe some popcorn for dinner, if she could even muster up the energy to nuke it.
Thinking of popcorn gave her an idea. She had always loved the movies, ever since her first job as a cashier when the local multiplex was first built. Something about the smells and the darkness and the memory of happy teenage groping, watching a film brought that all back to her. She had not gone to a movie alone in many years. "Why not?" she thought. There was a train every ½ hour home, Jim would never miss her, and she might actually be distracted from the stress for an hour or two. She could have her popcorn too.
She remembered seeing a small theater somewhere close to her office, just a few blocks away. It was a bit run down but she wasn't choosy. She figured it was a second-run house, but it had been so long since she'd seen a movie, she knew it wouldn't make a difference. After wandering around awhile she saw the rather dim marquee, bulbs out everywhere. There was only one film showing; the poster said "Babylon." She stepped to the ticket window and asked what kind of movie it was. The greasy cashier blinked, then leered at her. "It's an art film, honey, you'll love it, he said. She asked for one ticket and pushed her money through the window. He laughed and passed her a ticket and her change.
The lobby was empty and smelled musty. Not quite the sparkling new multiplex she had so many good memories in. But she kind of liked the shabby elegance; you could tell it must have originally been a beautiful cinema, many years earlier. Happily buying her small popcorn and soda, she was oblivious to the puzzled glances and sneering smiles of the workers as they wondered what she was doing there.
She pulled on the door, gold paint flaking as she swung it open and stepped through. The theater itself was especially dark, with most of the side lighting burned out or dim. She wasn't surprised to find only a few people in the theater, it was after all a Wednesday night. She was slightly amused to see they were all single theater-goers, like herself. She picked a seat in the back rows, far from anyone else. In fact all the patrons were spread out around the place. If the lighting had been even marginally better, she might have noticed that she was the only woman in the theater.
The movie started and she could tell by the quality that it was an older film. "I guess it is more art-house than second run," she mused. The screen showed a woman on a ship, in the sort of traveling suit one might find in the forties or fifties. The woman seemed to be the lone passenger, with the only other characters being the crewmen who worked the boat. She walked the deck with a superior attitude, distancing herself from the men who worked to provide her passage. Almost immediately Julie noticed the glances the men gave the woman, like they were starving and she was their next meal.
The mood changed as the men nodded to each other and approached her, surrounding her. They put their hands on her quickly, two of them grabbing her arms and shoulders, restraining her while three others stood before her. The woman struggled, her eyes more defiant than afraid. Julie sat watching, shocked, as the men proceeded to rip off her clothes and fondle her roughly. As they pulled her, resisting, into the galley and laid her on the rough wood of the dining table, spreading her open for them like a feast. Julie's cheeks burned crimson as she realized too late what kind of a movie house she was in. Heart pounding in embarrassment, she started to gather her coat and purse to leave. But she quickly caught herself and stopped. No one here knew her. Maybe she could sit and watch a bit for a little excitement.
Already she noted the woman on the screen was moaning, writhing as many hands rubbed all over her body. No longer protesting, she was arching herself up against their caresses. When first one and then another man took the woman's breasts in their mouths, Julie was mesmerized. She forgot all about leaving. Her own nipples tightened painfully as she watched the men suck the woman's nipples, licking and biting them. When the first man put his face between the woman's legs, Julie gasped. The camera angle was close, very close, yet artistically done. The man was lapping and licking her cunt like a dog, his tongue long and relentless. Julie's own pussy dampened immediately as she watched him tongue the pink, creamy cunt. She was wholly absorbed in the images, the theater so very dark that she felt like she was alone.
Indeed Julie forgot where she was, so immensely turned on as she was by the images. Mindlessly she reached her own hand up to her blouse, unbuttoning the top few buttons. She reached two fingers into her bra and began to rub her tight nipples. She pulled down the cup of her bra to let her full breast spill out, licked her fingers, and continued rubbing, harder now, and pinching. The cool air of the theater tightened her moist nipple even more.
Suddenly two men were in front of Julie, reaching towards her breasts. She started, and pulled her shirt closed tightly, telling the men to get away from her. Puzzled, they moved away. Shocked and shamed, Julie grabbed her coat and purse from the seat next to her. She felt a hand on her shoulder and a whisper against her ear. "There are rules in here. Your open blouse and exposed flesh is an invitation," said a deep voice. Blushing furiously as she put on her coat, she stammered, "I didn't, I didn't mean, I don't, I don't know what I'm doing here, I'm leaving."
