Open All Night

by Sahara Kelly

  Daphne’s heartbeat accelerated as she slid her hand lower, finding hot and wet folds of flesh tingling beneath her fingertips. She gasped as she found her clit, swollen and anxious to be touched.

  “You found it, didn’t you? I can hear you breathing…”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Move your fingers, Daph. Around, up and down, the way you like…tell me.”

  “I…I’m rubbing. Gently. I’m so wet…dear heavens…” Her throat closed on a choke as her breasts began to ache.

  “Does it feel good? Would it feel good if it were my fingers rubbing you? Sliding through your honey? Pretend it’s me, Daph. My hand…or even better…my mouth…”

  Daphne gasped at the pleasure of his words combined with her touch. She closed her eyes, letting her mind see Jack between her thighs. Oh God. If he ever put his mouth there, she’d die…of ecstasy.

  “You’re getting near, aren’t you Daph?” His voice was strained now, the phone crackling slightly, as if he was moving too. “I can hear your breathing. You’re panting. You’re seeing me with my tongue on your clit. Sucking it. Loving it. Watching your eyes as I do it…”

  “Oh Jesus, Jack…” The words were jerked from her mouth as her arousal grew to fever pitch. This had never happened to her before. At least not without a glass of wine, a long soak in a warm bathtub and her vibrator. And even then, not very often.

  She just assumed she wasn’t a very sensual person.

  Certainly not the sort of person who’d sit around in her office with her hand down her panties bringing herself to orgasm. Because that’s what she was doing. Helped along by a hot voice on the other end of the phone line.

  “Daphne…come for me, babe. I want to hear you come. I want to hear you gasp and choke as you do it to yourself. I want to imagine what you look like right this minute…all flushed and beautiful. I want to imagine it’s my cock inside you. Put your fingers inside, Daph. Do it…”

  To her amazement, Daphne did it. She slipped two fingers into her own body, through her own moisture, and kept up the pressure on that little nubbin of exquisitely sensitive flesh. And she could darn near see Jack’s face as she did it.

  She sucked in air to her starving lungs.

  “Yessss, babe…yesss. You’re almost there, aren’t you…” Jack’s voice was rough now, echoing her own sobbing breaths.

  “Oh God, Jack…I’m going to…it’s going to…”

  “Let it, babe. Come. Come and shout into the phone while you do. I want to hear it…share it…let go, Daph…do it…”

  She let go. Let the spasms swamp her, muffling her cry as she did. She shuddered and shook and choked out a gasp. “Jaaaack.”

  And several miles away, Jack Foster came too.

  Erupting hot streams of come into a bunch of wadded tissue, Jack Foster let himself climax while on the phone.

  And shocked the shit out of himself as he did so.

  What had begun as a slightly wicked phone call, intended to check up on Daphne and turn her on a little, had become a fully-engaged bout of the hottest phone sex he could ever remember.

  “Jesus H.” He panted into the phone, still glued to the receiver and listening to Daphne’s orgasm as it whimpered to a close.

  “Dear lord.”

  Well, if nothing else, they’d both found religion this morning. “You okay, babe?”

  There was silence for a moment. Jack’s heart missed a couple of beats as he waited for Daphne’s reply.

  “Yes. I think so. Good grief. That’s never…I’ve never…I mean…Jaaaack.”

  He grinned. A wholly wicked, satisfied, just-made-my-woman-come-over-the-phone kind of grin. “I know, babe. Me too. That was some hot phone sex.”

  “Is that what we did? Phone sex?”

  “What would you call it?”

  “Ummm.”

  Jack tidied himself up as he waited for Daphne to think up a suitable response. He found he was still smiling. What was it about this woman?

  “Well.” Her voice came back on the line, a little stronger now. “I suppose, yes. Phone sex. My word.” She paused. “Don’t think any less of me, Jack. But actually it was rather…fun.”

  “Why should I think less of you? I think…I think I…” Words sprang to his lips, but he bit them back. Christ. He’d nearly said the unthinkable. “I think you’re one hot woman who really turns me on. And it makes me proud that I can return the favor.”

  There. His psyche neatly sidestepped issues of emotions and annoying things like the fact that his heartbeat went nuts when he thought of Daphne. That he wanted to take her to the Caribbean for a week and see her run naked through the surf.

  That he wanted to spend more than one date with her. That he wanted to buy her a puppy just to see her eyes light up. That he wanted…more than just her body.

  Oh hell.

  Jack was in trouble, and he knew it.

  Funny thing was, he didn’t care.

  “Me? Hot?” She snorted, jerking Jack’s thoughts back to the conversation. “I have to tell you, Jack, the word ‘hot’ is not usually used in conjunction with me.”

  “Sweetheart, you just hadn’t met the right guy.” And I’m him. He. Whatever. “But you have now. You set me on fire. And believe me, it’s my pleasure to return the favor.”

  “Well.” She sounded relaxed. “I suppose I should get back to work.”

  “We’re still on for Friday, yes?” Good Christ. He couldn’t get enough. They’d just shared phone sex, both orgasmed, and he was still ready for more.

  “Oh yes.”

  Her enthusiastic response shot straight to his long-suffering cock. If he was going to finish his shoot and have the time for Daphne he wanted, he had to get his mind off her and back where it belonged. On his work.

  And the three-way fuck he had to film when the crew got back from lunch.

  Funny thing. He got no excitement from the thought of the afternoon’s schedule at all. But one lax moment of thinking about being with Daphne in a darkened movie theater - and wham. Mr. Big Boy rose again.

  Jack sighed. “Good. I’m looking forward to it.” And that was the understatement of the year.

  Saying goodbye and hanging up on Daphne was the hardest thing Jack could remember doing for a long time.

  He frowned as he made his way back to the studio floor.

  He’d known her for a matter of hours. Fucked her. Called her and had phone sex with her. So it was all about the sex, right? Like everything else in his life.

  Uh uh. His conscience shook its finger at him.

  You’re lying to yourself, Jack. She’s something special. She let you make love to her, not fuck her, and you know it, sure as shit. Daphne couldn’t fuck if her life depended on it. She makes love.

  And she’d made love to Jack Foster. Sure, she’d seen the car and the apartment, but hell, he had a feeling she’d have made love to him regardless of where he lived or what he drove. She was that type of woman.

  One he’d never expected to meet.

  Certainly not in this lifetime.

  A loud bray of laughter greeted him, and three naked bodies stood in various positions of boredom around the set.

  “C’mon, Big John. We’ve got some fucking to do here, and I’ve got plans for later.” Brad Marshall grabbed his cock and began arousing it. “Can we get to it, Mr. Producer? Pretty please?”

  Donna Childs pouted. “He just wants to get in my ass, Big John. You make sure he lubes up real good, okay?”

  Oscar Dalhousie simply grinned. He was gonna get sucked off, either which way. He didn’t care.

  The crew went to work, the filming resumed, and Donna got it up the ass while sucking cock. Big John Johnson was putting another porn masterpiece “into the can”.

  Lube was plentiful, Oscar got to come down Donna’s throat as well as on her tits, which pleased him to no end, and Brad looked damned fine while plunging into Donna’s well-greased hole.

  And all the time, Jack Foster was thinking abou
t Daphne Littlewood and a Friday night date at the movies.

  Chapter Eight

  The Wildwood Theater wasn’t the most gorgeous piece of architecture on the block. In fact, as Daphne got out of Jack’s Corvette on Friday night, she had to admit that it was actually quite ugly from the outside.

  But it looked like heaven to her. Someplace where she was going on a date with the handsomest man in the world, who wanted to date her.

  The man who’d shown up right on time, opened the car door for her, and generally made her feel like he really wanted to be there with her.

  It was…intoxicating, to say the least. And to her eyes, the Wildwood looked just fine.

  Jack did things to a small unit on his key ring and the car beeped in response.

  Daphne grinned. Good lord, how men loved their toys. As if a woman would put an alarm on her hair dryer. Well, okay, hair dryers were a dime a dozen, and didn’t hang out in dark parking lots. Nor did they cost as much as the annual budget of a small third world nation, but the principle was the same. Sort of.

  She shrugged off her internal debate and let Jack lead her into the foyer of the theater.

  Daphne breathed in that scent unique to cinemas the world over - a blend of popcorn, spilled sodas and humanity, with a healthy dash of perfume from the girls on their own Friday night dates.

  He produced two tickets from his shirt pocket and smiled. “C’mon, Daph. Let’s go grab some munchies.”

  “You got the tickets already?”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “I have friends in high places.”

  She blinked and followed him through the sparse crowd to the concession stand, and within moments found her arms full of the most monstrous bucket of popcorn she’d ever seen, three packets of Junior Mints and an extra-large bag of Raisinets. Jack juggled sodas and tickets and led her out of the foyer and along a passageway.

  “You have to go to the men’s room?” Daphne couldn’t help the question. There was nothing else through here.

  “Trust me, babe. I told you. I have friends.” He led her to a small door and opened it onto a darkened staircase.

  She frowned. “Jack? Where are we going?”

  He motioned her inside. “We’re going to watch the movie. In style, honey.”

  Cautiously she followed him up a winding stairway, the carpet frayed with age and the railing dusty. They emerged into a dimly lit hallway, narrow and gloomy, with several doors leading off it. Jack stopped in front of the end one and grinned.

  Daphne’s heart lurched. She so loved that happy grin of his.

  “Here we are, sweetheart.”

  “And that would be - where?”

  He opened the door with a flourish, and Daphne gasped.

  *~~*~~*

  The look on Daphne’s face was worth the hour or so of phone calls and the deals Jack had made to procure this treat.

  Wide-eyed and wondering, she stepped into the box. “Jack! It’s one of the old theater boxes.” Her voice was a whisper.

  It was indeed. He’d promised a visitor’s pass to the owner if he could have access to it, and Eddie had been very pleased to accept the chance to watch his favorite porn stars in action - up close and personal as it were.

  Eddie had even gone so far as to have the large cushioned seats vacuumed, which was a blessing, since a major portion of this level had been allowed to molder and rot. A sin in Jack’s eyes.

  “How fabulous.” Daphne was smiling in excitement. “I’ve always known these were here, but never realized they could still be used.”

  Jack’s heart glowed. It was as corny as all hell, but doing something nice for someone made him feel good. Damn good.

  He grinned. “Most of them aren’t. But I know the owner, and he said it was okay. For us. Tonight.” And because I promised him a chance to watch some tootsies get nailed by a couple of guys. From the director’s chair.

  Jack shook his thoughts away. For tonight he was just Jack, guy out on a date with his best girl. His only girl. God, this was a made-for-tv, sponsored-by-a-greeting-card-company, moment. He should have been getting nauseous.

  He wasn’t. He was getting horny.

  “Come sit down. Try out these plush seats.” He tapped the upholstered bench and coughed as a little cloud of dust rose from it. The vacuuming hadn’t been too thorough. “Er…they may be a little grimy still…”

  “Doesn’t bother me,” Daphne smiled. “This is just too cool, Jack. I love it.” She settled down and relieved herself of the popcorn and candies. “There’s so much room, too.”

  Jack smiled back. “Not a great view of the screen, mind you. This was really designed for theatergoers, rather than movie patrons. Probably explains why they’ve fallen into disuse.”

  “Such a pity. Can’t you just imagine seeing a live show from here? It would be fabulous.” Daphne’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “It’s like…like being a bird nesting on the side of a cliff, isn’t it?”

  “Um. Yeah, I guess. Never thought of it that way.” He was fixated on the thrills that chased themselves over her face, her blatant enjoyment of such a simple treat.

  He’d forgotten how to have fun.

  The thought blindsided him for a moment as he helped Daphne out of her jacket. Plain, simple fun. Taking a girl to the movies and making it special for her. No deals, no bargains, no negotiations, just fun.

  Goddamn. He’d forgotten too much in the past few years. Lost touch with the human side of life in his pursuit of his career and his goals.

  The lights dimmed and the curtains swirled back from the projection screen. Daphne snuggled next to Jack with an expectant smile on her face and reached for the popcorn. “This is fun.”

  Uncannily, she’d echoed his thoughts. “It is indeed.”

  Jack relaxed and let the opening soundtrack roll over him. For once, he was going to be himself, a regular guy. Having a good time with a date on a Friday night. He was going to eat popcorn, drink soda, and maybe grab a quick kiss in the darkness.

  He stretched out his legs, enjoying the freedom to move them around and not whack into the seat in front. Some things were worth the price, and this moment would have been worth just about anything.

  “Okay.” Daphne munched happily. “Casablanca trivia time.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Bring it on, babe.”

  “What was the real name of the movie?”

  Jack snorted. “Too easy. The movie was based on a play called ‘Everybody Comes to Rick’s’.”

  “Very good.” Daphne nodded approvingly. “I’m impressed.”

  “Here’s one for you.” Jack thought for a moment. “How did Ingrid Bergman end up playing Ilsa?”

  Daphne frowned. “Um…they cast her?”

  Jack smirked. “Uh uh. She was under contract to Selznick. Hal Wallis wanted her for the role, so he had to trade. Know who he traded?”

  Daphne shook her head, a fascinated gaze on her face.

  “Olivia DeHavilland.”

  “Don’t tell me.” Daphne giggled. “Melanie? ‘Gone With The Wind’?”

  “Same one. But that came out in 1939. ‘Casablanca’ was released in 1942. Know why they chose the name ‘Casablanca’?”

  She shook her head.

  “Because not long before, in 1938 I think, a very successful movie called ‘Algiers’ had been released…”

  “Oh yes…I’ve seen that one…Charles Boyer and Hedy Lamarr, right?”

  “Very good.” Jack raised his eyebrows. “Now I’m impressed. Anyway, Hal Wallis wanted something that would catch people’s attention so he picked Casablanca as a good title, and it turns out that the film was released right around the time the darn place was invaded during the war. It was a perfect blend of patriotism, romance, adventure and fortuitous marketing.”

  “You sound a bit cynical, Jack.” Daphne glanced at him as she sipped her soda.

  “No, actually I’m not. They couldn’t have known where the war was going when they shot the film. A
nd let’s face it, that scene where they sing the national anthems of France and Germany still makes people shiver, even today - all these years later.”

  The strains of the classic theme song flooded the theater and Daphne settled against him with a sigh of pleasure as the movie got underway.

  The story unfolded and swept Jack up into its magic once again, but this time he found himself watching it with new eyes. No longer did he calculate the lighting angles, watch for continuity errors or timing issues.

  He simply watched it as a man. Watched the expressions cross Rick’s face as he dealt with his customers, good old Louis, and the Frenchwoman he was about to dump.

  “Did you know…” Daphne leaned over and whispered in his ear. “That nobody ever actually says ‘play it again, Sam’? It’s the most misquoted movie line ever, I read someplace.”

  Jack turned his face and brushed her lips with his lightly. “Of course I knew that. You’re talking to the major movie buff here, babe.”

  She tasted of popcorn, butter and Daphne, and suddenly the movie faded into unimportance beside the woman he held in his arms. He rubbed his chin against her hair, loving its softness.

  She sighed. “Jack…this is so nice. Thank you.”

  Jack, chuckling over Bogart’s great line when questioned as to his nationality… “I’m a drunkard”, agreed.

  This was nice.

  *~~*~~*

  For Daphne, it was more than nice. She’d used the word when what she really wanted to tell him was that it was damn close to her idea of paradise.

  Cuddled close to his chest, fingers buttery with popcorn, in a darkened movie theater watching one of the classics…well, darn. It just didn’t get much better.

  Or so she thought.

  Then Jack picked up her hand and casually put it in his mouth, licking the sticky residue off her skin.

  The rasp of his tongue up and down her fingers, one at a time, made the breath catch in the back of her throat, and she turned her head slowly, watching him in amazement.

  He did it so naturally, without any fuss or bother, like it was something everybody did all the time. Well - here’s a newsflash, anchorman! It had never happened to Daphne before. And she liked it. A lot.