Three weeks after our morning fuck session, and after the final in Foundations of Chinese Medicine, I got a call from Joy on a Saturday afternoon. The New American University of Chinese Medicine was on their academic break. Caren was on a trip to Delaware to visit a friend and I had been working extra hours for a slightly larger paycheck. So, while I wasn't expecting Joy to contact me, I was very happy to hear from her.
"Hey, Adam! What's up with you? Wanna come see a movie with me tonight?" She asked excitedly.
"That sounds like it could be good. I've got nothing else going tonight," I responded, "What did you want to see?"
"I was thinking about a documentary film playing at an art theater near Los Feliz. It's about two two Chinese healers—so, it might be interesting," she told me.
"You're right, that might be interesting. What time is the show?" I asked.
"At 7:45. You pick me up, and I'll buy your ticket?"
"Nah, I'll drive and buy the tickets. That way if it's really terrible, I'll be okay walking out," I countered.
"Great! That'll work for me," she laughed, "See you at 7?"
"I'll text you when I'm there so you don't have to wait on the street," I said, "See you then."
At about five-minutes-to-seven I pulled up in front of Joy's apartment complex in West Hollywood's eastern edge. This area hadn't been gentrified the way that the areas to the south and west had been, so the rents were still reasonably affordable, according to Joy.
I picked-out a quick "I'm here" text to Joy, and about three minutes later I saw her coming out of her building, carrying her usual over-large purse and a small, folded gray blanket. The evening she was wearing three-quarter length, black leggings, a large white t-shirt with the collar cut out, that she had tied to the side at her right hip, and a white tank top under that. Rather than her signature very thick soled flip-flops that she loved 'cause they gave her an extra three inches of height and were "insanely comfortable", Joy was wearing a pair of black patent leather, platform high heels that had to have made her about five inches taller and, I noticed, really accentuated her already spectacular calves and pert, round buttocks.
Opening the passenger door and getting in, she greeted me with a cheerful, "Hey!"
"Hi there. Those shoes are pretty insane, are they new?" I asked.
"No, I've had then for about a year, but I haven't had a good reason to wear them out," she said, "Plus, you're tall and I thought these might even things out some."
"Well, they look great, so I'm happy you could wear them, but what's with the blanket?" I asked.
"It's one thing with two uses," she told me, "If it's cold in the theater I can wear it, or if I can't see the screen, 'cause ya know—short, I can sit on it."
"Smart," I said, "Now where are we going?"
Joy gave me directions to the theater on Sunset, right near where Hollywood ends. Traffic on the surface streets was its usual mix of too many people, people who didn't know where they were going and people who don't know how to drive. All this to say, what should have been about a ten-minute drive took just under twice that. We found parking on the street, and arrived at the theater with about fifteen minutes to spare. I purchased our tickets and we went inside.
This particular theater was an old one that originally had only one screen and huge audience area that some-time in the past had been divided into four smaller screens; two downstairs and then two upstairs in what had been the balcony originally.
Our show was upstairs in one of the smaller screen. This screen had its seats set up almost stadium style, probably following the original layout of the balcony, and seemed to have been recently had some renovations done. Rather than the uncomfortable plywood-and-thin-padding seats I was expecting I was pleased to see high backed, cloth covered newer seats with wide armrests with a circular cup holder at their ends.
We were the only people in the theater.
"Where would you like to sit?" I asked Joy, hoping that she wouldn't want to sit right up front.
"How about up there?" Joy suggested, nodding up toward the top row of seats.
I'll admit that I watched, and enjoyed watching, the movement of Joy's ass and the interplay of the muscles of her strong legs and hips as she climbed the stairs leading to the seats she wanted. After the last time we were alone together, I had some hopes about taking her back to my place after the film.
We sat down in two seats in the middle of the top row and chatted while we waited for the movie to start. Joy placed her blanket on her lap, her purse on the chair next to her, and said to me, "Well I won't need this to be able to see, but we'll see if I get cold."
Lifting the armrest between us, I looked at her and said, "Well, worst case scenario you could always snuggle up to me for warmth."
"You'd like, that wouldn't you. But I don't need no stinky boy for warmth when I got my blanket," she teased in response to my suggestion.
"I think you're mistaken, I don't stink, I took a shower yesterday," I teased back.
Sniffing in my direction in an exaggerated way, Joy nodded and said, "Yeah, you're right you don't stink. You're cleared for emergency snuggle duty."
"Happy to help," I said just as the theater light started to dim and the screen flickered to life.
The less said about that movie, the better. Calling it a documentary seriously stretched the definition of that word beyond all recognition. It was really more of an infomercial, a well-produced sales pitch with a soundtrack, than a documentary about a pair of Chinese faith healers. The film had about as much as to do with the Chinese medicine we studied as "Bambi" did with nuclear theory.
After about fifteen minutes, I looked at Joy, slumped against the far arm of her seat with a bored look on her face, and loudly whispered over the suddenly swelling music, "You enjoying this?"
"Not even a little bit," Joy whispered back, "I'm really glad I didn't waste my money on it."
