I'm typing this at midnight in my bed. My husband is asleep next to me and I should be too, but what happened just a couple of hours ago has pushed all thoughts of sleep from my mind.
We were looking forward to tonight's date night for weeks. It's been hard to find a baby sitter for our four-year-old daughter but finally our regular Jo is available again after a couple of months away, and Steve and I were able to plan a night out together. We'd both had big lunch meetings at work so we didn't feel like a fancy dinner so instead we opted for a couple of drinks at the local wine bar followed by a movie. I left the choice of movie up to Steve and he, typically, just replied "I don't care really, as long as there's lots of sex in it!"
We laughed, but his choice of "La Choix" certainly lived up to expectations. I'm pretty sure that by about twenty minutes in there wasn't a soft cock or a dry pussy on any seat in the auditorium of our local art house cinema.
I was wearing a black skirt and stockings and a dark red blouse. I'd slipped my coat off and had it on the empty seat next to me so I was a little annoyed when about five minutes into the film - with the lights already down and things just starting to get interesting, I felt a tap on the shoulder and a guy was gesturing to me to move it so he could sit down. There were empty seats three rows forward, but he seemed determined to sit next to me. I moved my coat and put it behind me on Steve's side. It was probably why Steve couldn't see what happened next. Apart from the fact he was goggle eyed at the pretty French actress being seduced on screen, his peripheral vision was blocked by my large coat stacked up beside his head.
It took about three minutes but I felt a hand on my knee. It took me about about another five seconds to register that it was the wrong knee and that the hand didn't belong to Steve. I turned quickly to look at the guy on my right and although I couldn't make out his face very clearly in the dark I could see that he was facing me and had his finger to his lips as if to say "Keep quiet". I took his hand in mine and gently moved his hand off my knee but I didn't say anything to him. He was a good looking man about ten years older than me and very well dressed. I decided to ignore it and continued watching the film.
Within a minute the hand was back. Gently resting on my knee and then stroking lightly. I took the hand as soon as I noticed it and pushed it back. I turned to him and mouthed the word no at him. He smiled and squeezed my fingers. I took my hand away and he left me along for the next hour. At our art house there is a break in the programme and people generally go and get a drink. Steve and I left and had a glass of wine in the bar lobby. I looked for my admirer by couldn't see him anywhere. Eventually the bell sounded for the second half of the film and we all filed back to our seats. My right-hand neighbour had gone but I stacked my coat in the same place on Steve's side, leaving the seat beside me free. Sure enough, five minutes of so after the lights went down he returned to the seat. I found myself thinking what would I do if he started the same tricks again. I hate to make a fuss, but I thought he was taking liberties that he had no right to take.
I needn't have worried about him stroking my knee this time. Instead he reached down as if to pick something up off the floor. It was very dark and I couldn't see what was happening but I felt him undo my shoe and slip it off. My shoes had actually been hurting me that evening so I actually slipped the other one off too. It felt good to have them off but I would rather have done them both myself. In any case, I left the shoe on the stranger's side off - and only pulled my stockinged foot away when I realised he had been massaging it. It felt really good though and if I hadn't been sitting next to my husband at the time I might have enjoyed it. As it was this just made me nervous. At least with the knee stroking no one else could see.
As if he read my mind he straightened up and I felt the hand go to my knee. Or rather, just above it. My skirt had ridden up and he rested his hand on my thigh. I turned to him and shook my head but he just smiled and made the same gesture as before. Then he mouthed something at me. I couldn't hear him and I instinctively bent me head towards him to hear what he was saying. He turned and put his mouth so close that I could feel his warm breath on my ear. "Part your legs for me" was all he said. Then when I shook my head "Don't worry, nothing will happen that you won't be glad about". I hadn't moved in all this time, but his hand had. It was now ten inches further up my thigh. He had pushed my skirt up and the little finger on his left hand was running along my stocking top and brushing the bare flesh of my thigh.
I made a decision. His fingers were warm. He had a kind voice and I realised I was not afraid. Steve was right there next to me. The film was horny and I was already a little wet - although I now suspect there was a part of me that was responding to the trill of this unlooked for attention and not only the pretty French actress (who was now fucking her boyfriend's best friend on the dining table while her unsuspecting boyfriend made them dinner in the kitchen next door).
I parted my legs for him.
