At the Movies

The tension had been mounting for days. Finals were starting next week and I hadn't put in nearly the time necessary to do an even halfway decent job. But there were other tensions a well. I'd been dating this new guy for about a month. We hadn't been out more than five or six times, but it was something entertaining on the weekends. Only, it was one of those relationships where I kind of knew it has no chance of going to the next level.

Back then I had a clear cut idea of what you were supposed to do if you didn't feel "it" about a guy. That meant we had spent a lot of time making out and making a mess out of my panties, but nowhere near getting the release that I desperately needed. Looking back on it – I'm not sure I even knew I needed release, I just knew that the tension was building. It's not like I was repressed or uptight about sex. I remember having incredibly vivid fantasies about professors in my classes. I went to the local nude beach with my girlfriends, it was just that I had certain rules about sex.

The various stressors were culminating to the point where just I needed to get out. There was always a good midnight movie at this theater near the school. When it wasn't showing the Rocky Horror Picture show it had something equally as offbeat. I still remember the movie from that night – Caligula. As a single woman I hesitated when I realized that it was an X-rated film. But this was an art movie house. I was a brazen young woman and off I went.

I took a spot near the back (OK, it was so I wouldn't be seen by anyone I knew. I was brazen, but I wasn't completely comfortable with my sexuality either...) I took the seat there because the only other person around was a woman. I gave a quick look her way and saw her to be a kind of a plain, studious looking girl with almost nerdy glasses. I sat three seats down from her in the same row thinking that it was a very safe place.

It was no more than five minutes into the film before I realized that something was going on. It was one of those out of the corner of your eye realizations. Maybe it was just that I was more alert that normal since I was nervous about the movie. But she was definitely fidgeting. I was very curious about her movements but absolutely terrified of looking over at her.

I spent about fifteen minutes periodically adjusting myself so that I could get a quick peek at what she was doing. I slowly was able to piece things together. She has a heavy coat on that she had now let fall off her hips exposing the bare skin of her thighs. One hand was resting more than halfway up her thigh and seemed to be moving ever so slowly. I clearly remember the nervous, almost queasy way I felt. Let me tell you. The thought of what she was doing in that darkened theater was causing my heart to pound uncontrollably. I knew was turned on. I could feel the warmth starting deep inside. The only problem is that it absolutely terrified me at the same time.

I sat there in the dark trying to get my heart beating at a normal pace. I also realized that, unconsciously, I had begun rocking in the slow steady way that my body does when its turned on. Squeezing my thighs tight at the same time to put pressure on my clit until the throbbing becomes too much.

I made a decision, she must be more nervous about this than me. I would be bold and turn to see what she was doing. When I turned she was absolutely fixated on the screen. I could see her face dancing in the glow of the few theater lights, eyes unmoving and intense on the screen. I could also more fully see what she was doing. She was leaning back in the chair. Both of her hands were in her lap, her legs spread slightly. Two fingers were pushing in and out of her pussy while the other hand's fingers were rubbing firmly up and down over her clit.

All I could do was stare, spellbound. There not five feet from me, a woman was openly masturbating. I was watching this incredibly intense act so closely now. I watched as the veins in her neck tightened and loosened. I watched as hand started to thrust quicker and quicker in and out. Not a sound came out of her mouth, only a slight whisper of heightened breathing and the whisper of wet flesh against fingers rose over the movie.

Then it happened. I could see her getting closer to her orgasm. I was turned almost completely facing her by this point. My hand was in my lap at this point but only over my jeans. She turned suddenly, looking right into my face. As she moved, she threw her right leg up onto the seat next to her.

Suddenly I could see how soaked her cunt was. Her pubic hair was glistening, soaked in her wetness. She'd pulled her fingers out, but the other hand was playing wildly with her clitoris. She continued to look at me while she masturbated. I watched as her face tightened and the moment of her orgasm ran through her whole body. It couldn't have been more than 30 seconds. I can still picture how her face changed before my eyes – the look of hunger, desperation and even a touch of fear.

Then she was up and sliding down the aisle, coat thrown over in a hurry. I was panting, breathing so hard I couldn't think straight. I did something I've never done before.

I got up and, although a bit weak kneed, headed for the bathroom. I went quickly to one of the stalls. I pulled my jeans down to my ankles, spread my legs, wet my fingers and put them directly on my clit. It didn't take more than 30 seconds before I was cumming practically falling to the floor with the intensity of it all. I pulled up my pants, quickly threw some water on my face and headed for the exit.

As I've thought about this experience over the years, I'm sure I've embellished it a bit in my mind. Her body probably was not as supple and sexy as I remember. Her glasses probably made her look more geeky than the hip and retro I remember. But, anyway, those aren't the important things. What I focus on is the way I couldn't reciprocate, the way I was frozen by her actions.

I think now how I should have pulled up beside her and added my hand to help her ministrations or at least sat next to her and masturbated until our moments came. But perhaps this is why the memory burns so bright. It's a moment of my own helplessness. It's a moment of sexual naiveté that I can never have back.