This story is dedicated to my girlfriend and her sweet, lovely pussy.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
James pushed open the door to the theater. He'd had a godawful day, had been to three job interviews already this morning, and they all went poorly. He'd thought moving to LA would help, there wasn't any work for him in San Diego, but it was turning out to be harder than he thought it would be. Walking back to his crummy room at the Red Roof Inn, he hadn't managed to find an apartment yet either, he'd passed the run-down old theater and stopped. It was showing Wild Things, of all movies, a sexy as hell little thriller from the late nineties, starring Neve Campbell, pure smoking-hot trailer trash, and suddenly things were looking up. He bought a ticket. Fuck it.
As he walked into the darkened room, a small, somewhat ratty yet not decrepit theater with maybe 50 seats, a wash of cool air dried the sweat on his face and he let out his breath. This was the right move. Was he all alone in here? He loved to be all by himself at the movies. But no, a couple of rows up he could see the back of someone's head, long straight black hair. She was sitting right where he liked to sit, right in the middle, four rows from the back. Oh well, that wouldn't ruin his mood. He started down the aisle.
The woman turned to see who had come in and he gasped involuntarily -- her face was shockingly beautiful. Framed by that long black hair, she had glowing caramel-colored skin, and her dark half-lidded eyes seemed to have some kind of internal light underneath her long lashes. She had a spray of freckles over a cute little round nose, and a wide, generous mouth, with a...smile? Was she smiling at him? Couldn't be. James stiffened in his pants, suddenly almost a little frightened by his eagerness. She turned her head back to the screen, where a woman, larger than life, with bright red lips pursed around a straw, was taking a drink of coke. The sizzle and pop sound of the coke commercial filled the room. There's no way, right? This kind of thing doesn't happen, he thought. He took another couple of steps down the aisle and paused right next to her row. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this hard, his cock straining at his pants. He knew it would be visible to anyone who glanced in that direction.
James turned down her row. This is the kind of thing people get arrested for, he thought, but the thought was pushed out of his mind by the proximity of this woman. He thought he could even smell her, the odor of peonies and lychee wafting through the air. He moved closer and she scooched back in her chair, her head cocked a little. "Excuse me," James said with a nervous grin, as he turned a little towards her in order to go past. His pants, and the straining cock contained by them, was only a foot or two from that gorgeous face, and yes, she was looking -- or at least she took a quick glance, before looking up at him, smiling a little half-smile, and patting the seat next to her. "This seat's available," she said.
James sat, almost lightheaded. He must be dreaming. The lights went down and the movie started, Matt Dillon's airboat skimming across the surface of the swamp on the screen. James turned to the woman, smiling. "Hi there," he said, "My name's James. Looks like we're all alone here, huh?" She turned to him and James let out a breath, he felt like he'd been holding it for hours. He could definitely smell her now, the floral scent filled his nostrils, and she grinned and said "Nice to meet you James, I'm Melina. I love this movie, have you ever seen it?"
After exchanging a couple of more pleasantries, they both turned towards the screen and James started to relax a little. This was going to be OK. Great even, he couldn't even believe his luck. Maybe Melina would let him take her out to lunch after the movie. He was doing OK after all, he still had some savings, he'd find work. Everything was going to be just fine. He put his arm on the armrest and could just barely feel Melina's skin, heat radiating from her. He stole a glance sideways. She was wearing an almost skin-tight dress made of knit cotton, the gray material tight over her frankly huge breasts, the deep valley of her cleavage displayed by the low neckline of the tight dress. He moved his eyes down, if anything the dress was having an even harder time containing her ass, and it ended short, just a few inches below the intersection of her thighs. "I wonder what kind of underwear she has on," James thought. "But I better not fuck this up." He turned his eyes back to the movie, and Melina moved a little closer to him, her arm now resting comfortably, almost pressed up against his.
They watched the movie for a few minutes companionably, James marveling as he always did at Denise Richards' almost cartoonishly voluptuous body. Melina moved her arm and slid her hand slowly between James' arm and his chest, touching his belly and moving lower, until it was resting on the shaft of his cock. She squeezed a little and James breathed in. Never in a million years would he have thought this could happen. He was afraid to move, and just sat there, rigid, every muscle in his body tensed, trying to watch the movie but his mind running a mile a minute. Melina softly stroked him over the material of his khakis, and the tip of James' dick poked out of the top of his waistband. Melina grazed it with her palm and paused for a minute, then went back to slowly stroking the length of him. James stole a hand over, he could just barely reach her thigh, and he rested his hand there. She moved a little closer so he could rest his entire hand on the curve of her hip. James breathed out.
