The Cinema

It was never a fantasy of mine, when going to the cinema alone, to leave it any way but alone. If I went to a party, or a bar, or even a sports meet, it was always with that spark of possibility that something would happen. Some attractive stranger would step out of the crowd and whisk me away. Occasionally it even happened.

But the cinema was a treat for its own sake. More special than a night on the sofa or in bed with a laptop but just as personal. Just me and the film. Of course, I liked an empty cinema best of all.

I suppose my favourite cinema ought to be an arty one. One with sofas, where you can take a drink in. That's what people's favourite cinemas usually are. But the multiplex in the mall was where I would usually end up. The unchallenging, child-friendly, cookie-cutter set-up suited me just fine. It still felt magical to walk out past all the glossy, closed-up shops, alone under the bright lights and gleaming glass and marble. The cinema itself would be stripped back - no bar, no trendy crowd, no chic décor. Just me and the film.

The film this time was a historical biopic. I'd been saying all week that I "might see it." With 6 hours of the week to go, it became clear that I _would_ see it. I'd be educating myself, and supporting the filmmakers. Proving that people like me did go to see films, and did want to see ourselves in them.

I'd thought that the mall might be empty on a Sunday night, when no shops were open, but the cinema and restaurants clearly still drew a crowd. I was first into the screen, but to my surprise it did fill up. I tried not to be disappointed - after all, I wanted the film to be a success.

It was a success,I thought. Visually and emotionally warm and witty. I watched the credits as the screen emptied, unable to tear my eyes away. Even as I shuffled about to let people squeeze past, or leaned so I could still see past them in front of me, I stayed focused on the screen, reading the names without really absorbing them. But eventually it ended.

As I stood, I realised someone else was standing too. A young woman. She caught my eye and shrugged.

"I always stay to the end too." She smiled.

"Yeah." I managed to murmur inarticulately, my voice out of practice.

When I walked into the bathroom, my mind still in the quiet, dark, post-film haze, despite the harsh lights, she was there. Somehow there was a queue. I decided to try to do a bit better.

"Did you enjoy the film?"

She smiled shyly at first, but then met my eyes. Slowly, as if struggling to focus herself.

"I did!" her face seemed to come alive. "I liked how familiar it felt. I felt connected to them somehow, didn't you?"

"Yes." Maybe eye contact had been too ambitious. I felt my face beginning to burn, and was saved by reaching the front of the queue.

Outside, having had time to centre myself, I decided to take a chance, and waited for her. I was sure I had finished before her, and I was right. We walked together out of the cinema, into the mall itself. She didn't seem bothered by my presence, but neither of us wanted to break the silence. The stillness of the empty mall didn't want to be disturbed. But we sneaked glances at each other. She was wearing a large denim jacket with the sleeves rolled up (vintage?) over a short skirt and docs.

We were approaching the doors of the mall. The outside world. I wasn't sure what to do. I slowed, and so did she. Maybe she didn't want to leave either. If we kept slowing down, maybe we'd never reach the doors. Gradually we both slowed enough to come to a stop. I faced her, feeling small in the empty space.

Now it was all or nothing on the eye contact front. I looked questioningly into her face and saw my own nervous curiosity reflected. I didn't know how to ask without speaking. I steeled myself and stepped closer. Properly close. Neither of us looked away.

"May I?" I whispered.

"Yeah."

Our lips met. I smiled at the rush, and reached up to touch her face, guiding her jawline with my fingertips. With my eyes closed, the rest of the world had faded away. I was fully focused on responding to her touch. I let my mouth open and she followed. I moved closer again, and she moved against me, pushing her hands into my hair. I reached around her to pull her in tighter, and gently felt for her tongue with my own. She pushed it into my mouth, hard, and I gasped, fire filling my chest.

We broke apart, both of her hands in mine. We smiled awkwardly at each other. The mall seemed still, but we knew we couldn't stay. Still, we were reluctant to re-enter the real world. We kept a tight hold of each other as we walk out the doors.

Outside I could only think of one thing to do. I led us round the corner of the mall, searching for a quiet spot. As soon as we were out of the lights she pushed me against the wall and we were kissing again. The kisses got rougher. Clumsy and open-mouthed. Our lips barely met.

I pushed her jacket and hair aside to kiss down her neck, and reached for her hip to pull her closer. With my foot on the wall behind me, I raised my knee so my thigh was between hers. She understood, and started grinding gratefully against it. I could feel the heat of her centre, and pulled her closer to mine, pressing our bodies together. Her hair fell across my face as she gasped into my ear. I could feel her warm breath.

Pulling back to look me in the eye, she took my hand and put it between her legs. I cupped her labia in my hand, and gently squeezed where I knew her clitoris must be. She moaned, and I chuckled, teasing her.

But I couldn't tease forever, and I twisted my hand inside her pants, pushing them aside and feeling her wetness for the first time, moaning myself. I massaged her clit, rolling it in my fingers, listening to her gasps and feeling her hands grip my shoulders, trying to understand or intuit how best to move with her. I switched to the knuckle of my thumb, and stroked my fingers around her entrance, waiting for an invitation.

"Please..."

I grinned.

She gasped. "Please!"

I entered her. At first I explored gently, but we quickly found a motion and a rhythm, thrusting harder and harder, breaking only to add more fingers until I was filling her. With my other hand I opened my jeans and reached inside my own pants. Equally wet. I focused on keeping the rhythm working for her, so when I touched myself it was erratic. But it was enough.

My hard work was paying off. Even as I whispered into her ear, and kissed it, my attention was elsewhere. I could feel her clenching around my fingers. Her hands were flailing, clutching randomly as she fought for control. I took my hand out of my pants and reached around her shoulder to hold her as she came. Her cries were muffled against my neck.

As she resurfaced, I switched hands to continue what I'd started, hungry for the pleasure she'd experienced. By the time I got close she was ready for me, and she kissed me as I came. Then we could cling to each other, sated.

I don't know how long we did stand there, but gradually I became aware of the world around us. Maybe it was cold. I leaned back to look at her, and she was smiling. I leaned in to kiss her on the cheek one last time before pulling away. At last only our fingertips were left touching, until her hand dropped to her side and I turned and walked away.