Encounters with Mia: Seventh

Journal entry, September 11, 2002

It cost me a small fortune, but I finally got the information I wanted. The ticket cost another pretty penny, but I knew it would be worth it. Now if I can just find the Howard Theatre. I am not familiar with the city, so it takes me a while. When I finally get there and park, it is already a little after 8:00. Can’t be helped. I pick up my ticket at the box office and go inside. The show is already underway, and the house lights have been turned down low, as I expected.

I allow my eyes to adjust, then follow the usher to the correct row. As I work my way to my seat, I see you and the man who must be your husband in the middle seats, your attention focused on the stage. I am in luck. The ticket I have purchased, after bribing the manager, is next to you and not your husband. As I approach my seat, you glance up and you recognize me. A quizzical expression flashes across your face followed by a brief flash of a smile. You then turn your attention back toward the stage.

I settle into my seat and watch the performance for a minute, taking stock of my surroundings as I do so. Yes, I think, this will work just fine. I look over at you, and I see your face highlighted by the partial illumination provided by the stage lights. The various colors play across your immobile visage, creating a lively lightshow that highlights your features in turn. Unsure how you will react to what I am about to do, I decide to proceed slowly, giving you the opportunity to stop me whenever you choose to do so.

You are sitting close enough that I can smell your perfume, and I can hear the soft whisper of each breath you take. I sit, immobile, enjoying being close to you, listening and inhaling your essence. You are sitting in the center of your rather narrow seat, legs pressed together, eyes focused on the stage. Now it is time. I move my left arm across my body and slip it beneath my other arm, providing some cover for what is to come. I extend my fingers and they come in contact with your arm. You move your arm away with a start, surprised by my unexpected touch. It takes you a moment to recover, and soon you are slowly leaning back in my direction. Now I am able to touch your arm again, and I move my fingertips up and down the silk sleeve that covers it. I caress your arm, fluttering my fingertips along the section that I can easily reach without being too obvious with my movements. I feel a slight quiver move through your arm, and I take this as a sign that you are enjoying my touch. You shift your position, moving your body in my direction. I wait a moment before proceeding to make sure that your husband has not noticed your movement.

Now my fingers can reach the side of your breast, my seeking fingers hidden by my arm and your closeness. My fingers move around the side of your breast, gently stroking the part I can easily reach. You sigh, a long, soft sigh. I stop. You move further in my direction, and now your side is pressed against the armrest that is between us. I have more ready access to the full side of your firm breast, and my fingers drift over it eagerly, teasingly. I feel the fabric of your bra beneath your blouse, and I try to imagine its color and shape.

You shift your position again, this time turning slightly toward me without taking your eyes from the stage. Realizing that you are willing for me to continue, I become more bold. I slowly move my hand to clasp your breast, your hard nipple pressing into my palm. I squeeze your breast firmly—another barely noticeable tremor passes through you. In slow motion I stroke your firm breast, caressing it gently, then clasping it firmly, squeezing it. I search out your nipple with my fingertips, and gently knead it between them. Another tremor accompanied by a quick exhale of breath escapes you. I know my gentle touch is beginning to have its intended effect.

Time for the next step, I think. I retract my left hand slowly, keeping a watch out of the corner of my eye for any movement on your husband’s part. His attention is riveted on the stage. I slowly lift my right hand and place it on your lower back. You slowly turn your body slightly away from me, concealing my hand from your husband’s view. Our motions are slow and intentional, a choreographed performance for an audience of two.

I rub your lower back slowly, my fingertips caressing your spine and trailing down toward your ass. You take a deep breath and I stop, hoping that you are not sending me a signal. Both you and your husband look straight ahead, absorbed in the performance unfolding before you. I slide my hand around your ass cheek, then turn it so I can slide it down between your body and the armrest. Although the position is awkward, I use my fingers to pry up on your buttock. At first you do not understand what I want, and you press your ass more firmly against my hand. I wiggle my fingers farther beneath you, stretching to find the treasure hidden there. You realize what I am seeking, and you lean your body slightly toward your husband, causing your left buttock to rise up off of the seat. I extend my fingers fully beneath you, and their tips find the cleft formed by your legs. I know that your pantyhose and panties will prevent full access to your hot pussy, but there is nothing to be done about that. If I had not intended on surprising you, I may have asked you to buy and wear a pair of crotchless pantyhose and no panties, but I opted instead to go for surprise. Maybe there will be another opportunity at a performance in the future.

I slowly search your crotch and locate your pussy by the wet spot formed by your seeping juices. I knew you would be hot and dripping by now. I press my fingers against your pussy, enjoying the warmth it radiates. I stroke it gently along its length, wiggling my fingers as I do so. I feel you tensing and relaxing your cunt muscles, and this action allows you to caress my fingers in return. I press my fingers firmly against your cunt, so you know I realize and appreciate what your are doing to reciprocate. You lower your ass slowly, trapping my hand and pressing my fingers tightly against your pussy. You begin a very slow, very deliberate back and forth movement of your ass; the movements are subtle enough that your husband probably would not have detected them in the semi-darkness even if he looked directly at your legs. Your movements cause your pussy to glide back and forth across my fingers. There is little that I can do to assist you, so I relax and enjoy the feeling of your wet nylon covered pussy sliding repeatedly across my fingers.

I can tell when you are about to cum, because a flood of hot juices begins pouring from your cunt, soaking my hand. The clenching of your ass muscles becomes more pronounced, and your ass is moving a bit more dramatically. I can hear the irregular rasp of your breath as the intensity or your orgasm mounts within you. You are wiggling your ass more now, unable to fully control your muscles despite your deliberate efforts. Fortunately, the action on the stage and the accompanying music reach a crescendo just as you cum, covering the rapid-fire series of gasps that escape your lips and the quick series of convulsions of your body.

Your ass presses my hand against the seat as you try to recover from what I could tell was an intense orgasm. Just as the performance ends and the lights begin to come up in the theatre, you lift your ass enough that I can slip my hand from beneath you. Once the applause ends, I turn to leave. You are behind me and I feel your hand on my ass, squeezing it affectionately. Good night, my dear.