I was panting now, sucking at his lips desperately. Touch me. Don't stop.
My senses flooded and I cried against his mouth, crushing my lips to his as I came from his smooth, steady touch. He kept the exact rhythm until, gasping, I pushed down on his hand to stay still once the waves had stopped. My inner walls were still pulsing, and so I guided one thick finger inside me to feel what he'd done. The pulses went on, gradually fading as we kept kissing. He dragged his finger out slowly, tugged my leather skirt back down, and pulled away.
He gazed down at me, his gold-brown eyes bright, even in just the dim glow of the vehicle's interior dome light. Even clothed, such as I was, I felt na**d and vulnerable, and had to look away.
He gently closed my door and crossed around the back.
Before he opened his door, I said quietly to myself, “Holy shit, holy shit. Girl, what are you doing?” I don't usually talk to myself, but this was an unprecedented situation.
When he stepped up into the truck, I laughed that the gelled spikes in his hair grazed the ceiling. “You're so tall,” I said.
“Hadn't noticed,” he said, chuckling. “Did I mention how ravishing you look tonight?”
“No, but you did ravish me. I noticed that.”
His voice innocent, he said, “Did I? Oh, you should complain to the store you bought those panties at. They seem to be … incomplete.” Still grinning, he started the engine and began driving us to the theater.
“I like these panties,” I said. “I should get more pairs and completely switch over.”
“It would definitely make things easier for when I visit you at your office. Or ...”
“For touring show suites,” I said.
He kept grinning, his teeth glinting in the passing headlights. “I can think of so many possibilities.”
I reached over and stroked my hand up his firm leg, then wiggled over in my seat so I could rub one flirty hand down between his legs. As I rubbed his bulge, enjoying the fullness of what lay beneath the fabric of his trousers, I explained where the theater was.
After a few playful squeezes, I pulled my hand away so as not to distract him too much while driving.
A few moments of comfortable silence passed, and then he said. “Sorry, were you talking just now? I didn't hear anything, because someone had her hand on my balls.”
“You didn't hear me say where the theater was?”
He shook his head. “Not a word.”
I folded my hands on my lap and repeated the directions. It was an older theater, for second-run movies—the type of place that wasn't so new and shiny, and didn't mind a bit of food and water being thrown around at a midnight show.
As we parked, Trevor stifled a yawn.
I said, “Past your bedtime?”
“Just getting my second wind.”
“Ooh.”
“You'll see. We'll give those weird panties of yours a proper testing.”
“I can't wait.”
He got out of the truck and ran around quickly to help me step down. We walked up to the theater doors, through the gathering crowd of people in costumes inspired by the movie as well as miscellaneous fetish gear. (The guy wearing a ball gag made Trevor's jaw drop for a second.)
It occurred to me, too late now, that the drive over hadn't exactly gone as planned.
After my late-night visit to Trevor's, we hadn't talked about what happened that night, or about the fight that preceded it. We'd texted back and forth a few times to make arrangements for that night's Halloween date, but we hadn't actually spoken.
On prior dates, Trevor had protested the very idea of talking about feelings and relationships, and I wanted to give him space, but I also wanted to know what was going on in his head. And what was the deal with his ex? Clearly he liked me, or he wouldn't be risking getting manhandled by a dozen sexed-up Dr. Frank-n-Furters in corsets. Trevor held my hand and stuck close to me as I introduced him to my actor and actress friends.
I couldn't shake my doubts, though. He liked me, but was he still in love with his ex? The woman who I thought looked, based on the one photo I'd seen, a lot like me?
I introduced him simply as Trevor, and not as my boyfriend. My plan was to keep it casual, or at least appear to be casual—not seeing other people, but not rushing into anything, either. I watched as my friends gazed up at Trevor in awe. He really was magnificent in that black shirt that matched his shiny black hair.
My coworker Chad ran up to me and whispered in my ear, “This one's a keeper.”
I looked over at Chad's date, who looked like a fitness model in gold shorts.
“So he's Rocky, but what are you?” I looked up and down Chad's costume. He wore a baggy gray sweatshirt, which was quite a change from his usual fashion-forward attire, so I knew it was a costume.
He adjusted the red kerchief around his forehead. “I'm Rocky, too.” He feigned a few boxing moves.
Trevor drew me closer to him. “I get it. Rocky and Rocky,” he said, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you, I'm Trevor MacIntyre.”
I watched the faces of both Rockys as they shook Trevor's hand. Seeing him through their eyes made him even more handsome. I'd noticed he was attractive, right when we first met, but he seemed to be getting more and more sexy as I got to know him. He'd had a beard on our first date, hiding away a smidge of that gorgeous face.
The crowd hushed, and everyone began moving through the lobby to find seats. The Rockys insisted we sit with them, and we found a nice seat, near the middle.
Once the lights went out, Trevor put his hand on my lap. So close to my panties, his hand was like a beacon of heat, promising more to come later.
I leaned over and whispered in his ear, “You're a virgin, right?”
He gave me a confused look.
The costumed actors took their places in front of the movie screen.
He pointed to the actors and said, quietly, “What's going on? Is this a play? I thought it was a movie?”
I leaned in again and whispered, “This is your first time, so I'm not going to tell you what to expect. You'll enjoy it more this way.”
He twisted in his seat, looking around at everyone, with their newspapers and water pistols and bags full of props.
He kissed me on the cheek, squeezed my thigh, and settled into his seat with a shrug.
All was going well until the wedding scene, right at the beginning of the film, when the audience threw rice in the air. Someone in front of us chucked a good handful into Trevor's mouth, just at the instant he turned to ask me what was happening.
He laughed it off, but I could see him spitting out rice for quite some time.