A while ago, I stumbled out of bed in a daze. I slipped into my chair, my body shivering and started scribbling a letter to my boyfriend. T'was the dead of winter, but in a steam mood that made me feel nothing but tropical passion. My fingers trembled around the pen, and my thighs squirmed around the thin knot of fabric wedged against my slit. I felt so wet. I felt so hot. I came in the middle and picked up the pen again...
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...remember that theatre? The one in the country side, with not a stitch of grass around it and only one screen. Between there and the bowling ally, we had all our good dates. I wish you weren't so far away. I wish you were closer to me and could hold me now. I have to admit that I'm hot right now---not just for you but for this one time we missed. It’s kept me up at nights, like a satyr’s song. It’s made the hours of fingering fly by quickly and the days seem so long while I wait for the sun to set, and my roommate to sleep. I wait for you... or actually for him... the *you* in my dream, to seize me again.
This never happened, but it should have. It's is what dark corners were made for.
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A tear burns hot in my eye. I miss him that much. I tease one finger over my clit, turning circles around the wet knob. With a sigh, I pick up the pen again, my juices making it slick in my hand as I continue writing....
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...this would've been us but it wasn't. For me now it's just a dream.
In the dark theatre, cuddled against each other through most of the movie, I hear his snore tearing softly through the air.
He jerks awake, feeling a poke in his side.
"Hi..." I wave at him.
I poke him gently again, "Wakie, Wakie!" My whisper-scream makes the crowd murmur anxiously around us. We're sitting in a corner, alone as the only couple, the rest of the thin crowd splattered in other chairs away from us. Enveloped in curvy shadows cast by the false marble column beside our seats, no one can see us but they can hear us all too well.
"Oh ....sorry Becca...is it over?" he says with a hopeful yawn, his words carrying easily to my ear.
I smile, "Hush now.... “I whisper low, "It's not done yet. You still have a few hours more to spend with moi."
He yawns again.
I reach out and giggle into his ear, "You’re not supposed to pass out until afterwards..." I say in a leading tone.
He perks up. I can almost imagine his pupils struggling to adjust to the light; his eyes desperate to see just how broadly I smiled as I said that.
My fingers tease between his, letting my nails stroke his palm gently.
"Well I'm old," he mumbles, "and we old folks need our rest." He whispers teasingly into my ear, holding my hand up for a kiss. "What'd I miss?"
"Oh nothing lot. There was a war.... lots of explosions, and the McHenries were taken over by space aliens."
I hear him gasp and chuckle back at him, "or.... more likely, you're just missing a long tortured conversation between two depressingly drab characters.”
"Oh... yeah, sorry I missed that."
I laugh. "It was a bit boring for me too.” I smile softly in the dark, my words a low murmur.
"I guess there's little use to getting into this movie...." he pauses, rubbing his hand over my skirt, "So what should we do about this, Becca"
He leans in and kisses my cheek, his lips cuddling over the dimples by my lips.
I stifle my tickled giggle, "Are you trying to make out with me? Isn't that a little cliché?"
"Oh no not at all. Cliché is... I look you in the eyes and say your always beautiful to me babe. Then I kiss your lips, of course"
He kisses my lips. A tender wet peck, nothing more.
"Of course." My heart trembles excitedly and I smile, hidden underneath a dark shadow. Staring out at his features silhouetted in the silver light of the movie screen, I smile and lift my hand to his clipped chin. His eyes shine out underneath bushy eyebrows, searching the darkness for me like most men search for their special star.
My fingertips brush across his cheek and cup warmly there. "You're not so bad yourself, you know." A hint of glee twisting through my voice.
"Ah---well I'm glad you say that. Especially considering----" he stops suddenly, his mouth muffled against mine. Too bad, it'd probably have been a witty remark. As it is, our tongue squirm against each other, tangling for seconds then pulling apart to dart gentling in and out of each others lips.
I feel his hand suddenly on my breast, fondling me through my shirt.
I pull away with a blush, my breath caught in my chest.
"Mmmmmm… your mouth tastes like pop corn babe" he whispers, fumbling with a button on my blouse.
I giggle, "You're so silly" I murmur as I gently nuzzle against his shoulder. "But don't you think someone might see us?" I say gingerly, my fingers toying between his; tracing gentle circles above his knee.
"Well... depends on which show they care to watch." He pulls at my shirt; the button undone, his hands slip into my blouse. I breathe in, my breast swelling into his hand as he rubs his fingers around it.
My lip trembles lightly, and my cheeks turn a hot pink. My hand brushes ineffectively at his, feeling his fingers massaging around the light fluttering lace of my bra and kneading into my warm skin.
"Oh...sweetie.... are you sure no one can see?" I ask delicately as his touch raises goose bumps on my trembling arms.
"Mmmmm you’re so warm..." he mutters into my ear, licking lightly on the rim. My bra snaps against my skin, "Well babe we're in the corner here and we can stop when you wish but..." He ends with a tongue rolling kiss, taking my hand into his.
Relieved, I sigh softly onto his neck. My body going soft against his, I nudge my head onto his shoulder. Under my shirt, my nipple turns into a hard point, squeezed and swollen in between the simple twists of your fingers. My hand moving to nestle between my legs, the rustling of my nails against the rough cushion covers reaches my ear. His fingers unfold over my right breast, edging my bra down past my nipple. The fabric catches lightly on my nipple, flicking the swollen point down. My hand squeezes tighter into his and a happy little murmur escapes my lips before I clench them nervously shut.
