Way back here, off to the side, no one notices. Of course there's always the chance someone could come this way... change seats... The risk of being seen adds an insanely sweet edge to the rising hot urge...
Somehow we both just know, don't we. I like your style. Subtle. From a few seats away you're totally cool. You can be counted on to handle this delicate situation gracefully. Good. That allows me full scope. I can rely on you to... respond well...
How do I know? Of course I don't, not really. And that's part of the edge. I'm sensing you, that's all. Intuition. Anyhow, the uncertainty is fuel thrown in my fire. I'm crazy-hard and feeling more beautiful than I could ever say.
I stretch my spine and arms. Anyone sitting in any theater might do this. Perfectly normal. Except that I do it in a certain way. I'm sure you feel it. I like it that you feel it. I like that you don't quite look over toward me.
You look off to the side, as if just resting your eyes from the brightness of the screen. Once or twice our eyes meet, for an instant, and that's all it takes. Like touching a match to gasoline. We both know...
I ease a leg out straight, off to the side. Again it's normal theater conduct, but again with a "certain something" that I know you can feel. I'm glad. I want to get you wet... blurry... crazy with the rising urge inside you. I want to make you forget the movie and everything else except the whirling in your flesh like a madness...
I'm sliding my hand along my thigh. This is sort of proper public conduct, but anyone who knows what's what could see it for what it is. A stripper's move. A good stripper can make you come without taking off a single stitch of clothing. In "real life" I'm a stage performer... I know the value of gestures.
And with this gesture, I'm reaching way down inside you, though there's nothing overt. It's a knowledge we share. Just by sitting here, just by sliding my hand on my thigh, I make you wet and dizzy. That's our secret, yours and mine. The most intense arousal happens long before anything remotely overt happens... way deeper than that... long before anyone could notice a thing...
So when my arm slides down a little, and I stroke my thigh, not with my hand but with the ultra-soft skin of my wrist, I can feel you grit your teeth with your need to stifle the moan. The skin of under-wrist is so tender, so sensual, it's unbearable. Almost the same as that ultra-delicate skin someplace else... someplace private and very intimate... so soft and alive that people easily risk tossing their whole lives away for a few minutes of sweet touching.
That's what I'm rubbing my thigh with... that intimate skin... and while you're doing a good job of seeming to look elsewhere, I know I've got you now... like a rabbit in headlights...
The way my hand is touching my ribs is starting to test the limits of what someone can get away with in a public place. Oh sure, I might just be stretching innocently. Maybe. Then again, not when my fingers are arching backwards like this, away from the rubs, and the palm of my hand is stroking the ribs, moving slowly up and down...
There's no other word for this than provocative. And yes I want to provoke you. I want to provoke your toes into curling with helpless craving... I want to make your tongue rub the roof of your mouth... I want to make you gasp... choke on your own desire...
Now as my arm slithers down between my legs, and my legs clamp the arm in a tight hold, I'm beyond the range of ambiguity. True, when I lean down like this, I might be reaching down to pick up a dropped napkin... but... I could just as well be yielding to orgasm... and who's to say? I do it slowly... my arm sliding along my inner thigh...
And that's what gets to you. So slowly. Like you can't quite be sure what I'm doing. What's happening? The movement is oddly like taking off my clothes, like being naked here beside you... but so subtle, so ambiguous, there's no saying for sure.
It's just plain crazy-making, and I feel how your breathing quickens as I tense and ease my thighs... gripping and releasing my arm... and your teeth are biting your lower lip... trying to cope with the flood of desire that's wetting your panties...
Opening a belt buckle in public is always tricky, since it takes such effort to keep the thing from making that little metallic clinking that anyone can recognizes for what it is. So I do it very very slowly.
And by arching my back as I do it, I make it totally obvious to you what I'm doing. True, someone in the seat behind us might not know. I'm careful...
And not just to avoid detection. I'm careful because a gesture like this goes so deep into your feelings. Almost like admitting openly to you that I'm stripping for you right here in the theater. I'm broadcasting to you, and to you alone, that I'm crossing the line into taboo... So I do it very slowly... to make it unbearable for you...
I feel how your breathing is getting messed up and your mind is getting spun around. Good. I want to mess you up. I want spin you around. I want to make you wet yourself so much that the dark splotch seeps through your skirt, and after you stand up and leave it'll be plain for all to see... not to mention the beautiful smell...
Same now with the zipper. Even the belt buckle was maybe conceivably within limits... it might be explained away as easing stomach pressure after too much popcorn. But not the zipper. Sliding a zipper down in public is just totally taboo. No doubt illegal.
Good. I like this. I like how your hand rises to your forehead, as if resting your eyes from the brightness of the screen, when you and I both know it's so you can hide your eyes and watch me directly.
And I like how your other hand rest in such an innocent-looking way against your breast... innocent... but touching yourself that a certain way. I know. Those slow circling motions that would give you away if anyone were really watching you.
We're swirling now, you and I... and the swirling can't be stopped...
It's actually a relief for me when I pull away the cloth on each side of the zipper. A relief because, though it's really risky now, I'm more comfortable with this wide open feeling. Like when you finally say to someone you've just met that you want to touch them intimately...
So much easier once you cross that line and say it... the line that feels like a lake's water once you've plunged in. It's the plunge that's hard, but swimming is easy.
Opening my pants is like that... I'm in the water now... immersed... swimming... for you... to watch...
It takes only the slightest jiggle of my hips to get the pants cloth down and out from under me, away from the seat. For the first time, you can see the private bulge, barely veiled under the soft gray cotton, and the brightness of the skin of my thighs shining in the dark theater.
The way my hand slithers between my legs now is different than before when I was still clothed. I can feel the difference inside your body. The heat is flowing inside you like lava down a mountain... I'm wet, and you know I'm wet, and so are you, and I can feel the wet between your legs... the liquid seeping out of your flesh... and mine... fountains... out of control...
Easing my shoes off is fun and easy, and so is slipping my socks off, using my toes to do it. It makes me almost giggle, I don't know why, something silly about it. Pulling my pants down from my hips was vertigo-hot, like falling out of control into a fire, but taking my shoes and socks off is like a little joke to make you laugh... comic relief...
Well, it's done... my bare feel shine in the dark... making me feel ultra naked... reckless with abandon... This is a raw strip for you... I want to make you wet and crazy...
I gaze casually around the theater. It's obvious that no one notices. No one, that is, but you... And it's also obvious that you've lost any awareness of the movie, the theater, anything...
All you're aware of is this man stripping for you a few seats away, right out in the open, here in the theater... and the heat that's surging your body like a dangerous blaze... the heat in your thighs... and the sweetness in your hand circling your breast like a lover...
Slipping my pants off and away is easy. I'm confident now, I know what I'm doing, and I want this. God I want it. Down and down goes the cloth. Of course the brightness of my bare skin in the dim theater could catch someone's eye, if they looked this way. But I don't care. Nothing matters but this craving... to strip for you...
When my bare foot pushes away the last bit of the pants fabric, and my legs are at last totally naked, I feel free and happy, like I'm flying. I love it when you move your legs in that certain way, and I wonder if it's an early wave of orgasm.
I know you're crazy-hot from the shock of seeing me do what you only dreamed of... hardly imagined anyone would actually dare... and here it is... right in this theater... a few seats away...
Of course there's more... By now I've got you hanging in the dizziness of wrenching suspense... wondering... how far I'll go. Yes? You're crazy to know if I'll... go all the way... I'm sure of it... I can feel you...
This is the kind of thing people have fantasies of... but no one ever actually sees... It's one thing to open a zipper in a theater... opening pants, sure... but sliding pants off and away?
Crazy, yes... I'm smiling quietly inside. I like this. For me it's natural and easy. I know what I'm doing and I'm at home with it. And I like knowing what it does to you. I can feel you wetting yourself. I want this. I want you like this. I want more...
I love knowing how your stomach knots up and then releases, making your shoulders shake visibly... how you're nearly paralyzed with thrill and desire... desire that hits you when you realize I'm... god... actually...
Oh god... sliding my briefs down... first underneath... deftly lifting my hip and slip the cotton down... Ny bare skin touches the seat... god what a feeling... the nakedness...
I wouldn't do this in a crummy place, of course. I don't like crummy places, I wouldn't go in one for anything. No, I like fancy places like this, the kind where pricey cars fill the parking lot... the upholstery is such nice smooth stuff... ultra-clean. Such a beautiful feeling on my bare skin...
And it's lovely knowing that probably no one has ever done what I'm doing in this seat before... probably in this theater... ever... and may never happen again. I think that's part of what's making you so wet and crazy... the shock that this is happening here in this fancy place, and it's strictly one-time-only... just us... our secret...
