Anna needed to get away for a while. Art had been relentless lately, wanting to fuck as if he was going on an Arctic expedition or something. It was fun, but she needed a little space. He was never going to take her to this movie anyway. So she'd put on that short denim skirt he'd gotten her, and the white sleeveless turtleneck she hardly ever wore, drove to the mall and walked up to the ticket counter. It was the middle of the afternoon in the middle of the week, the first show of the day, and the only person who wasn't working there was the woman ahead of her in line, black hair flowing in wild curls, heels, skintight shorts decorated with huge flowers, green blouse.
She flashed a red-lipped grin at Anna as she turned from the ticket counter.
Popcorn and water bottle in hand, Anna took her favorite seat, in the middle of the back row. She was tall, and this row had the most leg room. She put her bottle in the cup-holder in the right armrest; there was no holder to the left, because the armrest lifted out of the way, making it easier to make out or whatever, but she hadn't done that in a theater since she was a teenager.
Her phone chimed, and looking around to make sure no one was going to yell at her, she took it from her purse.
Great fuck baby. More later?
Maybe it had been a great fuck for him. She hadn't even come. She silenced the phone and slid it back into her purse without replying. Let him stew for a couple of hours.
The lights went down and the previews started. Someone sat down to her left. What the hell? There were maybe three other people in the theater, why sit next to her?
It was the woman from the ticket line. "Best seats in the house," she said in a loud whisper. "You don't mind, do you?" Her drink hovered over the cup holder to her left. The light from the screen, pulsing irregularly from light to dark, reflected in her huge eyes. She smelled like oranges.
"It's fine," Anna whispered. The previews were uninspiring, and she let her mind drift. She'd woken up late, to the touch of Art's lips on her inner thigh. He hadn't pushed her -- if anything, Art was sometimes too considerate a lover, for all that he wanted to fuck all the time lately -- and she'd let herself enjoy his attention. He'd been buried beneath the covers, leaving little wet spots on her flesh. Through half-closed eyes she'd watched the tell-tale lump of his head beneath the blanket, moving first to the right, then to the left, each movement accompanied by a kiss or a lick, until his tongue slid between the folds of her labia and found her clit, and then she was awake.
The movie was starting. Anna pressed her hands together and squeezed them between her knees, as if to prevent them from migrating upward. She relaxed, shifted to a more comfortable position, and her knee bumped against the girl's beside her.
The woman didn't pull her knee away, so Anna moved again and stole a glance at her. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, transferring popcorn from the bag to her mouth, one kernel at time.
Anna took a handful of her own popcorn, Anna watched the movie, imagining Art checking his phone to see if she'd replied to his text. He should know better, that the movie had started, that she wouldn't answer now. Still, he might be anticipating later. Why was he so damn horny? He said she was fucking hot, and the way he said it was enough to make her forget any reluctance or tiredness or headache that might be standing in the way of getting his cock in her pussy. If only he would get her off more often. Anna crossed her legs, cracked open her water bottle, took a drink, returned it to the little round cupholder, put her left arm down on the armrest.
The woman's arm was already there, but it left her room. Anna's forearm rested against the girl's, and the warm tang of orange filled her nostrils.
It had been weeks since she'd had an orgasm she hadn't given herself. It was never as good alone as it was with someone else, when it felt like her insides were melting. She imagined Art sliding three fingers inside her, thicker than his cock, stretching her, sliding in and out, then his tongue pushing aside the hood over her clit, stabbing at it, licking it, sending thrills out to the tips of her toes and nose and fingers, sending her over the edge not once but twice, and when she'd finished he'd replaced his fingers with his cock, not as big but better because he was above her, his mouth on her throat, holding himself up on one arm while his other hand squeezed her breast and pinched her nipple.
The woman's hand dangled from the arm rest and brushed Anna's knee ever so lightly. What was she doing? Anna took hold of her water bottle, uncrossing her legs, ready to get up and move away, and she turned to the the woman, anger starting to rise but the stranger's eyes were already on her, rimmed in dark liner, the light from the screen showing them wide and lustrous.
The woman leaned toward her, and without thinking Anna leaned in as well. "You're so fucking hot," the woman said, her mouth near Anna's ear, voice just above a whisper. Then something hot and wet filled her ear, sending an electric jolt through Anna's body, and she clamped down on a yelp, shivering with shock and pleasure. The woman withdrew her tongue from Anna's ear, leaving a cooling dampness behind.
Anna breathed in orange, relaxing in spite of herself into the woman's closeness. Her hand was warm on in the inside of Anna's knee, and something told her she should leave, but it was as if the hand held her in place. Anna thought of the phone in her purse, of the unanswered text. Great fuck baby. More later? Her face was hot, though whether it was from the promise of more later or the hand that had inched from her knee to her thigh she couldn't tell. She'd never been attracted to women. Art had hinted at threesomes in the past. The thought of Anna with another woman fueled his fantasies. If she was going to have a threesome, she wanted another man in the mix. Not that Art would ever allow another man in their bed.
The woman shifted in her seat, her soft hand far up Anna's thigh, under her short skirt. What did she feel like to that questing hand, the hand Anna knew she should running from? Her assailant -- was that what she was? Was Anna being assaulted? Or was she compliant, even willing? -- was wearing shorts. Anna could find out.
Moving carefully, as if sudden movement would scare the stranger away, Anna draped her arm over the armrest, sliding downward until her fingers touched her leg, which moved upward to meet her. It was all or nothing, and the woman's touch, now a full palm against her inner thigh, almost up to her thong, told Anna she wouldn't be rejected. The skin was smooth, cool, pliant. Anna's heart beat fast. The woman leaned in close again, and Anna's skin tingled in anticipation of her mouth against her ear.
"You want this?"
What was "this"? Her head light, Anna realized she didn't care. She turned toward her, almost nose to nose. The woman's tawny skin glowed with reflected light, her black curls glistened. "Yes," she whispered.
