18
When Marcus woke up after his doze, he wasn't feeling quite as happy as when he first closed his eyes. I mean, sure, he was still pretty happy -- he was having the best sex of his life -- but he was also feeling confused.
It's one thing to be having awesome sex, but it's quite another to feel emotionally and psychologically stable. He had the first thing, at least for now, but he wasn't sure if he had the second.
No new text messages arrived from Miss Christy while he slept, and he wasn't sure whether he should reply to the one he received as he drifted off. Marcus missed Miss Christy too, but perhaps it was best just to chill for the rest of the day. He tried to keep his mind off tomorrow morning when he was due back at work for the start of the new week.
He wasn't sure what his feelings were. Had he inadvertently found himself in an intense form of psychotherapy? Was this some kind of uber-CIA bullshit designed to break people's brains? If last night was part of "therapy", it was a form of treatment he hadn't signed up for. The creeping thoughts seeped into the back of his brain -- am I being manipulated here? Is this some kind of scientific experiment? Am I a sexual guinea-pig? What the actual hell is going on? He tried to reassure himself that it was a mere coincidence that he and Miss Christy crossed paths in the supermarket; a mere coincidence that Miss Christy invited him over for dinner; a mere coincidence that he drowned in the beauty of Miss Christy's husband's beautiful penis and swallowed its offering; a mere coincidence that he ate Miss Christy's delicious cunt and drank her juices; and a mere coincidence that he slept the perfect sleep in Miss Christy's spare room.
Would it make any fucking sense at all if he showed up to his next appointment in Miss Christy's office? What would they even talk about? Actually, come to think of it, did he even *have* a next appointment? He wasn't sure if he had one, but he didn't think he did. He actually had no idea where his therapy was headed, and he felt it didn't seem to be leading him toward an answer to his central question.
Marcus ordered in a pizza and got stoned as fuck that night. He watched some porn, jerked off, checked his alarm for the next morning to make sure he wouldn't miss work, and went to sleep.
*
The next morning dawned. His first thought upon waking was 'I wonder what Miss Christy got up to yesterday afternoon'; his next was 'I wonder who she's seeing today at work'. He didn't know that Miss Christy went for a run yesterday afternoon while Alex tended to the gardening. Pretty regular suburban Sunday afternoon stuff. Miss Christy showered after her run and got herself off with the detachable shower nozzle. Marcus couldn't have known this, and even if he did, he couldn't have known what Miss Christy was thinking about when her snatch convulsed; he'd have been shocked to learn she was thinking about him.
*
Marcus entered the chat when he got home after work on Monday evening. 'Hey, Miss Christy, I missed you yesterday too. I hope you're OK. Thank you again for an amazing Saturday night.' He really REALLY wanted to add the eggplant emoji, but sanity prevailed. He couldn't think of Miss Christy anymore without his cock semi-chubbing up.
Miss Christy replied within minutes, almost as if she'd been sitting by her phone, waiting for Marcus to message her. 'Hey, glad to hear from you, quiet boi. Was a little worried. xx'
Marcus's dick moved at the spelling of 'boi'. He'd be her boi any fucking day of the week, but for now, he sidestepped it. 'I'm good, just had a quiet day when I got back home yesterday. Had work today. Work sucks but hey gotta pay rent.'
'Yeah I know', replied Miss Christy. There was a lull. Minutes passed, you know what it's like. Miss Christy was, strangely enough, the thirstier of the two. 'Hey ... so I'd really like to see you again soon. Would you like to go watch a movie or something?'
Marcus ran his hand through his long, sexy, dark hair. His fingers moved on his phone. 'Yeah OK that sounds fun. But what about your husband?' Marcus agonised over whether to refer to Alex as "Alex" or "your husband"; he was sure he made the right choice. It implied a little distance.
There was momentary silence. 'I'll tell him I'm working back late. It's cool. We both work flexible hours. So Wednesday night? xxx'
Marcus's reply was immediate. 'Fuck yeah'.
*
Wednesday night arrived. Marcus had arranged to meet Miss Christy at the movies. Miss Christy had suggested they watch the new James Bond film. Marcus couldn't give a shit what they watched, all he wanted was to sit in a dark room with Miss Christy for two hours. Marcus bought the tickets online the night before and had printed them off in advance. He waited for her. He'd already bought a tub of popcorn, which was nestled under one arm, and a cup of soft drink. He'd smuggled in a small flask of vodka to mix in with the soda.
Miss Christy appeared. She strode toward him. She looked so incredibly fuckable. He wanted to plant his flag right there, in the lobby; he just knew this was gonna be a good night. They hugged, and some of the popcorn spilled out the top of the tub.
They made their way to their cinema where the Bond flick was showing. The dude at the door checked their tickets and waved them in.
The room was sparsely populated ... and dark. They took their seats, in the back row, in the darkness.
"Hey, boi", said Miss Christy, kissing him on the cheek.
*
19
It was towards the end of the movie's run. Most people who wanted to see it had already seen it. There couldn't have been more than a dozen people in attendance.
The screen sprang to life and, as usual, the audience sat through a hundred and thirty-seven commercials and trailers for other movies before their film started. Marcus put the cup of soda in the cup holder at his side and passed the tub of popcorn to Miss Christy. She placed it on the vacant seat beside her. She wasn't hungry -- at least, not for popcorn -- but she loved that Marcus had engaged in the movie-going clichΓ© of buying something from the candy bar for her. That was sweet, she thought.
Marcus, for his part, had just realised what this was. A date. He was on a fucking date. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been on a date.
"Hey, let's get comfortable, Marcus", whispered Miss Christy.
"What do you mean, Miss Christy? I'm already feeling very comfortable", Marcus responded.
Without another word, Miss Christy's fingers found a small switch on the side of her seat. A motor propelled a footrest out in front of her, and at the same time, her seat reclined. She looked at Marcus as if to say 'you too'. Marcus found the switch on his own seat. His footrest came out and his backrest tilted back. They weren't completely flat, like they would be in a bed; the seats were designed to only go back a certain angle. They were meant to watch a movie in, not to sleep in!
Once their seats were reclined back as far as they'd go, Miss Christy raised the armrest that lay between them. She snuggled into Marcus's chest.
"Comfier now, Marcus?", asked Miss Christy.
"Yes, Miss Christy, I'm feeling very comfortable. I always feel comfortable with you."
They whispered small talk to each other while they ignored capitalism. After what felt like the passing of millennia (seriously, empires rose and fell), the film eventually started. Neither of them were really interested in the movie or the Bond franchise in general. Miss Christy suggested this particular movie as the first thing that popped into her head, whereas Marcus couldn't give a shit about any of it at all. He liked movies, but he was into art cinema that told real stories, not billion-dollar blockbusters where CGI covers up for watery plots and terrible acting. It had been a long time since he'd been to a multiplex to watch a film, which was why he had no idea about how the seats reclined.
Marcus and Miss Christy continued snuggling. He listened to her breathing, and he watched as her chest rose and fell. If she was interested in the movie, then that was fine with him. He'd be happy to lie peacefully like this with her for the rest of the night until the cleaners threw them out.
*
Miss Christy looked away from the screen for a moment and her eyes met Marcus's. She wanted to see Marcus's reaction to the film. Marcus was watching the screen, but he wasn't really paying very much attention to what was happening. He was much more interested in what was happening by his side. As soon as he felt Miss Christy move to glance at him, he looked at her.
Through cinematic darkness, their eyes locked. Neither of them spoke, they just gazed at each other. Miss Christy rolled around so she was facing directly towards Marcus. At this point, the movie had officially gone to hell.
Miss Christy put her mouth to Marcus's ear. "Can you pass me the soda please, Marcus? I'm thirsty", she whispered. Marcus rolled over, retrieved the cup from the holder and passed it to her. She thanked him and inserted the straw in her mouth. She licked the top of the straw before she began, very slowly, while looking directly into Marcus's eyes the whole time, sucking the sweet, carbonated liquid up from the cup. She let the straw fall from her thick lips and handed the cup back to Marcus. Traces of lipstick remained on the end of the straw. "Thank you, Marcus. I needed that. I was so thirsty." Marcus put the cup back into the holder and rolled over to face Miss Christy again. He felt his cock straining against the fly of his pants. They snuggled together again.
Christy knew the effect she had on men. She knew Marcus would've boned up pretty firmly after watching her mini-performance. She subtly moved her hand toward his groin and ... yep, there it was. "I can feel your penis, Marcus. I can feel it through your pants. Is your penis hard ... for me?" She pouted seductively.
Marcus's first instinct was apology. "I'm really sorry, Miss Christy. I know you probably want to watch the rest of the movie."
"Fuck the movie, Marcus. Fuck it", she whispered in his ear. "Besides, there are other things to fuck, you know. Do you ... do you wanna fuck me, Marcus?" She poked her tongue into the corner of her lips, and for a second or two, Marcus stopped breathing.
So many thoughts raced through his head. He'd never had sex in a public place before. Sure, the movie theatre was dark and there weren't many people in the room, but ... what if? What if an usher came up to their row? What if they got busted with his dick out? What if the film stopped for some reason and the lights went on? What if there was a fire? What if Miss Christy made too much noise? FUCK, WHAT IF ALEX FOUND OUT???