When the concert started I was in a bad mood. I hadn't wanted to come in the first place, but my wife had already bought the tickets. She acted as if it was meant to be a fun evening out, so I had agreed to go along, although I hate classical music, and getting dressed up to listen to strings screeching sounded like a torturous evening to me.
Our budget didn't permit very good seats. In fact, we were almost completely in the back of the balcony. My wife Mary cheerfully pointed out that as we were there for the orchestra it didn't really matter what our view was. I agreed, but only because there was no reason to do otherwise. The balcony was fairly empty; we could have moved up from our purchased seats, but I didn't suggest it because I didn't see the point. My wife always felt doing such things was dishonest, so we settled into an empty row of a nearly empty section.
We sat quietly waiting for the concert to start. Mary occasionally commented on the splendor of the theatre, or exclaimed over a detail in the program. I was only listening enough to respond when I needed to, not wanting to start an argument but not particularly interested in actually having a conversation about how many light bulbs were in the chandelier, or compare the number of private boxes with the theatre across town. I glanced over the other audience members as they arrived, only vaguely noting the number couples and the varying ages of them.
It was the age, or maybe the legs – or perhaps some combination of the two – that made me notice the blonde when they arrived. The woman's dress wasn't indecently short, nor horribly low cut. It was looser than my wife's dress, but somehow it clung to her as she moved, showing off every beautiful curve and feature of her body. She was young, probably early twenties, obviously well toned, and on the arm of an equally young and attractive man. The couple climbed the steps and entered the row in front of Mary and myself, settling themselves into seats just off to one side of us.
The couple, I decided, were in early stages of their relationship. They touched often, and lowered their heads to speak quietly to each other, although Mary and I were the closest to them and couldn't possibly hear them. The blonde's face regularly lit up with a wide smile as she turned to smile at her date. I could only see the back of the man's head, but imagined he was smiling back just as widely. I glanced over at Mary and we exchanged half-smiles. All that we could manage after so many years of being together.
Mary brought up the subject of her nephew getting into college, and for the few minutes remaining before the concert started, I was pulled back into the drudgery of every day life. The lights eventually dimmed and the music started and I spent a little while staring vaguely into space. It was two movements into the first piece before my eyes wandered over to the couple in front of us again. The lighting was dim, but I could make them out easily enough. Her long slim legs were crossed towards the man she was with, and his hand was on her leg.
As I watched, his hand moved up and down her thigh in what appeared to be an absent-minded caress at first. After a few strokes though, I realized he was slowly working her skirt up. Before, I could just see her bare knees and an inch or so of thigh, but now I could see several inches more. And, a few lazy strokes later, I could see half of her naked thighs and was inwardly cheering the man on, hoping against all logic he'd somehow get the whole dress off.
