"It's been a while since we went out like this."
Barbara turned her head slightly, studying Ken in the dim light of the theater. He was focused on the screen.
"Yeah," she murmured, shifting in her seat. "Too long."
The film had just begun -- a sleek thriller, dripping with tension and slow-burning seduction. It was the kind of movie that knew exactly how to hold an audience captive.
She didn't have to look at Ken to know he was watching closely.
He wouldn't say anything, of course. He'd sit there, pretending not to notice all these sultry actresses. But Barbara knew better.
A spark of mischief flared inside her.
Lately, everything between them had felt too careful, too predictable. Even this -- date night -- felt more like a box to check off than something exciting. She had been feeling it for months now, that slow drift into comfort.
Maybe it was the dim glow of the screen, the charged atmosphere of the film, or just the way Ken was so completely absorbed in something else -- but suddenly, she wanted to remind him exactly what he had right next to him.
She glanced around. The theater was nearly empty.
Her breath hitched slightly as she reached over.
Her fingers found the zipper of his jeans.
The sound was barely audible beneath the film's soundtrack, but to her, it might as well have been a gunshot. Then, with her heart pounding, she slid her hand inside.
Ken stiffened immediately.
"Barbie!" he hissed, his voice low and urgent, but she heard the crack in it -- surprise, maybe even something else. He caught her wrist. His eyes darted around the theater, scanning the rows ahead of them, then the aisles.
No one was watching. No one was even close.
Still, he shook his head, a silent warning.
Barbara just leaned back slightly, watching him, her pulse quickening.
Ken had always been like this -- careful, measured, predictable. She knew exactly how this would play out: he'd act annoyed, maybe whisper something about how reckless she was being.
Then he'd shift his focus back to the movie, pretending nothing had happened.
She knew he was enjoying the movie -- especially the busty beauties.
She let him believe he'd won.
For now.
Barbara turned her attention back to the screen, but she wasn't really watching. Instead, she listened. She waited.
After a few moments, Ken exhaled softly, his body easing just slightly. His fingers, still wrapped around her wrist, loosened.
And that was all the permission she needed.
Moving even slower this time, she reached for him again.
"Do you want to get me arrested?" Ken whispered, his voice tight, barely controlled.
Barbara didn't answer right away. Instead, she let her fingers trail lightly over his thigh, tracing slow, meaningless patterns. He was still tense, still resisting, but she could feel his body betrayed him despite his protests.
She leaned in, her lips so close to his ear that her breath warmed his skin.
"No one's watching," she murmured. "And besides... don't you like a little danger?"
Ken swallowed hard. She could hear it.
His grip on her wrist tightened for a moment -- one last attempt at control -- but when she didn't pull away, when she simply waited. His fingers relaxed, sliding over her skin.
Barbara smiled.
She eased her hand lower, pulling out his already hard cock.
Ken inhaled sharply through his nose, his whole body rigid, but he didn't stop her this time.
"Barbie..." he whispered again.
The movie flickered on, oblivious to them. On screen, a sultry voice purred something low and intimate, a perfect backdrop to what she was doing.
Barbara kept her touch light, teasing. She had no intention of rushing.
Ken exhaled slowly, his head tilting back against the seat.
She smirked.
"Good boy," she teased, lightly stroking his cock with her fingers.
He groaned softly. "Honey! After the movie, please!"
"As soon as it's all over?" Barbara asked in surprise.
"OK!" he sighed, resigned.
Barbara giggled but let him be, though she barely paid attention to the rest of the film.
All she could think about was the way Ken had reacted -- embarrassed, anxious, but also unmistakably flustered. Maybe there was still something there, some ember she could fan back into a fire.
As they walked outside into the night, she leaned toward him and whispered, "Are you ready?"
Ken hesitated for half a second, then whispered back, "Yes."
"Good. Come," she said, taking his hand. But instead of leading him to the car, she pulled him toward the back of the cineplex.
Ken followed her, but as they slipped into the shadows behind the cineplex, he leaned in and whispered, "What are you up to now?"
Barbara didn't slow down. "You said you were ready," she reminded him, leading him deeper into the darkened space, away from the glow of the parking lot and any lingering passersby.
Her pulse thrummed with anticipation as she turned to him, fingers already reaching for his belt.
"Honey, are you crazy?"
"I guess so," she murmured, working the buckle open.
The thrill of it sent a shiver through her. Maybe it was the secrecy, the rebellion against the slow, stagnant intimacy their marriage had settled into. Lately, everything between them felt predictable, uninspired.
But here, now, in the cool night air with only the distant hum of traffic and the occasional flicker of a streetlamp -- this was different. This was alive.
She had just started undoing his pants when he caught her wrists, gripping them firmly.
"You said as soon as the movie was over," she reminded him. "Now you've got to see it through."
He didn't move. He just stood there, holding her hands, staring down at her.
She couldn't see his eyes in the darkness, but she felt them on her, felt the weight of his hesitation, the battle playing out in his mind.
Barbara didn't pull back. She stayed right there, letting him decide.
Seconds stretched between them -- ten, twenty, maybe thirty. Then, at last, he let go.
She didn't hesitate. The moment his grip loosened, she picked up where she left off, her fingers sliding into his pants.
This time, he didn't stop her.
"Barbie, let's go home."
Barbara laughed softly but didn't answer.
Instead, she tugged his pants down, feeling a rush of exhilaration.
A second later, his underwear followed, and her hand wrapped around his cock.
"This is my turn," she murmured, stroking him.
"Barbie!" His voice carried that same nervous edge, but he wasn't stopping her now.
"Aren't you enjoying this?" she asked, knowing full well he was.
"Uh... yes!"
