That didn't stop her, however. Her hand darted into the bag every time he offered it, and when the lights went down she leaned back and got comfortable, feet on the seat in front. The previews came and went, each one punctuated with a little comment. "That one looks so good!" or "No way are we seeing that!" And he liked the implication. She was talking about the future "we" as if the two of them would be choosing films together from now on.
The show started, and while he had no idea what was going on, he admired the special effects and tried to work out just who was a superhero, who was an alien, and who was a regular human. Some sixth sense of hers must have kicked in, because she squirmed around in her seat and raised her lips up to his ear. "Do you have any idea who’s who?" she whispered.
He shook his head slowly, and her hand landed on his knee. "Just relax then. Hold the popcorn still. Let me see if I can explain the plot." His breath quickened, and her hand inched slowly up along his thigh. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Soon her hand rested fully on him, fingers curling down over his balls, palm covering the length of him as blood surged down to his groin.
Her breath was hot against his neck. "See, this guy takes his lady to a movie," her palm pressed down harder over him, feeling the hard ridge of him. "And he has to sit still while she goes into unexplored territory." The bag trembled slightly, and he shifted in his seat, slowly widening his knees.
Her tongue darted out and gave him a little lick on his neck. 'This feels good, doesn't it?" Her hand moved over him again, thumb and forefinger tracing the outline of him, base to tip.
"Ummmhmmm" he gasped, the arm around her shoulders gripping tight. He wanted to say more but decided to let her do as she pleased. A brief worry about conventions and manliness crossed his mind, and he felt like he ought to say something or do something, but he tamped the feeling down. The most exciting experiences with Eliza came totally unexpectedly. Like now, her fingers trailed over him, up and down, sometimes forceful, sometimes frustratingly light. His cock pulsed and twitched, wanting desperately for her to unzip his fly and pull him out and yet terrified she might actually do just that.
He liked her warm breath in his ear, the feel of her tongue flicking out, catching him by surprise then swirling around the shell of his ear. He never would have guessed it could be so erotic. But then again, she had his shaft in her hand, her fingers teasing him to a harder plateau.
He tried to sit still and marveled how easily she'd maneuvered him into this. One hand around her, the other holding popcorn, her free to tease him in the shadows. He loved it, and had been waiting for it. Maybe not waiting for it so much as hoping for it, anticipating that she was going to do it or at least praying that she would.
He lifted his hips as she pressed, seeking a little harder touch. She giggled and pulled away. She knew she had him going, had to know she had his cock rock hard, oozing precum, spotting his underwear, if not his khakis.
"Just enjoy it, Frank," her words only added to his passion. "It's a long movie..."
He wanted to throw the paper bag of popcorn onto the floor and tip her face up to kiss her, but somehow he refrained. He kept his face turned up to the screen, once in a while glancing over at her pretty face in the dim lighting. Her wavy hair down around her shoulders was a pleasant change, making her seem more lighthearted. The curls still refused to stay put, framing her ears and face. Her lips glistened like she had just put on lipstick, or maybe fruit flavored lip gloss. He licked his own suddenly dry lips, wishing for a kiss, or something more.
The film seemed endless, and the soundtrack was perfect for an evening of long slow caresses from a sweetheart. One hit wonders from the ‘70s that took him back to his childhood, to his less than spectacular prom. He re-imagined it all, what it would have been like if he'd known her back then. Ooooh, slow dancing with her to Stairway to Heaven, feeling her hips pressed against his. He would have held her so tight, swaying with his awkward all-boys high school never been to a school dance before non-moves. He probably would have cum in his pants, just like he was about to do here in a crowded theater.
She knew what she was doing, this girl. He wanted more of her touch. She found the sensitive head of his shaft, and stimulated it with rough caresses and little pinches, and then dragged her palm down over him to scrunch up his balls and then massage back up the length of him. He could barely keep his breathing even and tried not to moan. Softer, harder, faster, she was building the need inside him. As if she knew how long it had been, how desperately he wanted to feel this with her.
"I'm, um... Eliza..." he felt she deserved a warning, just in case she didn't want to really see this go too far.
She hesitated but only for a second."Do you want me to stop?" she asked. She gave the head of his cock a cruel pinch and wound him up even closer to explosion. He gasped and was startled that it came out like a little squeak. "I don't think we are ready to stop yet," she cooed in his ear, nipping on his ear lobe and drawing another heavy sigh from him. She found the tab on his zipper and eased it down, letting the fabric part and the solid shaft pop up a little higher, tenting the cotton of his boxers. Her hand slipped inside and wrapped around his pole.
"Oh!" he gasped and straightened in his chair, almost spilling the popcorn. She gripped him tightly, and her thumb curved up and over, stroking the crown. He wanted to spill right there with her breath hot on his neck, her boldness gripping him tightly. He heard her chuckle. "Almost, my sexy. Almost there." She stroked slowly, and his eyes drifted shut, letting her stroke him higher, wishing they were at home in his bed, so they could undress and really get to know each other.
His cock was pulsing, almost at the point of no return. He squeaked again, almost hoping she'd stop and say they needed to rush home. But he knew in his heart she wasn't the kind of woman to start and come this far here and then quit. Or was she? Hell, he still didn't know. As the screen exploded with a battle ending in a fiery crash and the music built to a crescendo, her fingers skillfully built up the need in him, her thumb flicking over his slit, driving him over the edge.
He turned his face to hers at the last second, burying his lips in her hair as he groaned long and low, his cock twitching and unloading seed on his belly and staining his boxers. She kept toying with him until the climax had passed, milking every drop from him.
Long minutes passed as he sat there, eyes closed, unable to move. He breathed in the scent of her hair as strength returned to his limbs and reality returned. The credits were scrolling.
Frank held her close while his breathing returned to normal, and then watched in amazement as she pulled a wad of napkins from her purse and plucked the popcorn bag from his hand. “Give me this while you tidy yourself.”
Tidied himself? What a way to put it. He pulled his arm back from around her shoulders and hastily wiped up what he could and zipped his pants. It wasn't easy. He felt so self-conscious, and everything was going straight into the wash the minute he got home.
She took the napkins from him and threw them into the popcorn bag, rolling it up and setting it on the floor. She turned his face to hers and kissed him lightly. "Let's not forget to take that out with us when we leave," she added. Her tone was light, and he dipped his head and found her lips again. It felt so good, kissing her softly in the theater. There was no tension, just warmth and acceptance. Her hand came up to rest against his cheek. "Thank you, honey." Her eyes met his. "I wasn't sure how that might go, but it was... beautiful."
He laughed in relief. "As long as there's no test about the plot of the movie later..."
She chuckled and held him close. "Movie? Was there a movie?"
Chapter 5
Frank tried to act like life was normal, as if everything hadn’t gone from maintaining a steady trudge forward through the mess of a divorce to feeling like he was walking on air. Songs on the radio made him suddenly want to pull over and check his phone. They played a constant game of sexy texting, but he refused to think of it as sexting, even though the word
s and the pictures made his insides squeeze up and his shaft want to sit up and beg. The memory of her hands on him in the darkness of the theater made him suddenly ready to take that step. She had awakened his libido and captured his imagination. Soon he would be free and able to actually start to thinking of them as a couple.
He loved the flirty banter, almost feeling like he was someone else. When he was around her he no longer felt like the unwanted husband, but rather she made him feel sexy, as if he were the one that was the sought after, unattainable dream, with a dash of virgin about to be sacrificed thrown in. He was really getting into the game she was playing.
His phone was overflowing with the text balloons and smiley emojis.
Eliza: Can’t stop thinking about the movie last night.
You: Me too. Well, I don’t remember much of the movie. But you know what I mean.
Eliza: I do. Lol It was supposed to be a good flick. Maybe we should give it another go. See if we can actually watch it this time.
You: It had an excellent soundtrack. I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.
Eliza: I have a feeling it would end up exactly the same way. We should get together for dinner somewhere nice, instead. That new Steak
House in Center City, maybe?
You: I hear it’s popular. I’ll check and see if I can get us a reservation.
Eliza: You sound hesitant, think it’s that booked?
You: I won’t know until I try
Eliza: We could always try a place that’s BYOB -- save a little there
He hadn’t known what to say to that, so he’d sent back:
You: Lol
Eliza: And head back to your place afterwards for coffee and dessert
He could almost hear her say it, the way she whispered suggestive things in his ear, the way she had in those uncomfortable seats in the Movieplex. Something about her tone seemed suddenly breathless and sexy. Like he was going to be the thing served up for dessert. His cock responded and urged his fingers to type, “Yes, yes!” but he had controlled them and responded with a noncommittal
You: “Oh? What kind of dessert would please my lady?”
Eliza: Anything with whipped cream on it. Straight out of the Reddi Whip can.
You: I will provide something
extraordinary! I’ll text you the details :)
Frank was so unused to texting and using the little smiley faces that peppered Eliza’s text, that he stared down for a moment. He was smiling, and happy… and totally turned on at the thought of having her in his apartment.
So he had set it up, the perfect evening at a romantic French bistro that was both tasty and economical. He was almost certain she had meant the economical thing as a joke. What woman didn’t like to be wined and dined? Especially if her escort picked out the perfect bottle to bring along. Eliza must be seeing something in him besides his old-fashioned charm, Frank thought. He suspected that she also saw him as a little bit of a challenge, trying to get him to open up and show his adventurous side.
He had taken extra precautions to have the evening go smoothly, calling ahead to the restaurant to see what they recommended for their prix fixe. Not only to assist in the wine selection, but his instincts told him Eliza was a bit of a gastronome and would want to taste what the French chef had to offer.
The sad thing was, he was so eager for what might come after the meal, he barely tasted it. Oh, his lovely bottle of burgundy wine went well with everything, and he tried to make the evening last, but there was an edge in the air, and he could almost feel his pulse thrumming a little bit harder, repeating, “Tonight, tonight, tonight!”
She had scooted closer to him after the hostess seated them at a small square table. She looked beautiful, in her usual calm and understated way. “Just the two of us on another ‘get to know you’ date,” she whispered. He didn’t know who she was trying to convince.
They studied their menus in silence. The waitress approached and studied the two of them as she shuffled papers on her pad. “My name’s Melinda, and I’ll be your server this evening.” Frank smiled up at her while she recited the specials, and then went on to describe them in greater detail.
“Are there any that you recommend?” Frank asked in his smooth, slightly accented tones.
“Any that might be available more quickly than the rest?” Eliza couldn’t help laughing at the expression on Frank’s face. Oh God, it was like he expected everyone in the place suspected they were running home to get intimate after dinner.
Eliza caught his eye as she clarified for the waitress. “We are trying to make a 9 o’clock movie,” she lied, and winked at Frank. “Do you think we can be in and out in less than an hour and fifteen?”
Melanie didn’t bat an eye. She scribbled down on her notepad as she decided for them. “Boeuf Bourguingnon, times two, and your sides?”
“Roasted potatoes and mixed vegetables.” Eliza enjoyed seeing Frank out of his comfort zone. “Times two.” He was almost like a teenager in some ways, and it was such a contradiction. He was so polished, so professional when it came to his classes, his responsibilities at the college, and then every evening out with her it was like he was trying to get used to taking a girl on a date.
Her sexy professor had the respect of his students as well as his peers, a professional air complete with the wardrobe and briefcase to match. Even the video clip she had seen of him at the college included both students and faculty stepping forward to shake his hand.
Melinda the waitress moved on to other customers, and Eliza took hold of Frank’s hand where it rested beside her on the table. She shook it a little and looked into his intelligent eyes. “What is on your mind, Frank? As far as everyone here knows, we are an old married couple. No one is wondering at all what we might have planned for after this.”
She was right. He knew it. He was wound so tight, and there was no need. Really. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “It has been so long, Eliza. I am so out of practice. Excuse me, for over thinking all this.” His thumb gently traced over the back of her knuckles.
“I am a little out of my depth,” he continued. “Give me a room full of rambunctious teenagers who know nothing about chemistry, and I can take all that in stride.” He sounded so earnest. She could just picture him in a white lab coat, and a pair of safety goggles.
“So you set up all the experiments and roam around the room to make sure no one leaves the Bunson burner on or drops a Mentos in their diet coke?
“And I man the fire extinguisher! That’s one of the most important jobs. Although most of the students are familiar with how to run an experiment. It’s all pretty straight forward, and if they have prepared for class at all, they know how it’s supposed to run, as well as what they need to write up in their report.
“Every once in a while I get a student from a school that never required a lab science, but I can usually spot those a mile away.”
Eliza sipped her wine and tried to lighten the mood. “Are they the students who wear chef’s whites like a lab coat and even add the hat to the ensemble?”
Plates delicately decorated with drizzles of gravy and delicious looking beef Bourguignon appeared. Melinda tucked a plate in front of each of them and topped off their wine glasses. She bowed herself out with minimal fuss, barely interrupting their conversation.
“Honestly, Eliza,” he snorted, “It’s never what they wear, just the look of terror as they first walk into the lab, and the way they circle around pretending to be a shark, but they are really sniffing around for a lab partner who looks like they know what they are doing.”
She bit back laughter, wondering if his comment had anything to do with his search for a romantic partner, but apparently, it wasn’t. He was giving his usual straight answer. Once again Eliza wished she had known him back in his college days. “I would choose you as my lab partner, Frank, any day. I would have been worse than the chefs. Lab sciences were never my thing; I got by on compiling the reports, because of m
y handwriting. Back in the dark ages, before everything was done on a computer.”
The scent rising from the plate of beef was impossible to resist. Eliza took a bite and savored it on her tongue. She hadn’t tasted anything this authentically French in years. “I bet the chefs aren’t required to take a lab science, and those who do are probably up enough on their cooking and flavor skills to know that it’s all based on chemistry anyway.”
Frank smiled over the table at her. “Smart girl.” He took a bite and moaned softly in pleasure at the exquisite taste. He ate slowly, deciding the meal deserved at least a little attention, given that he was passing up on lingering over the blend of Burgundy wine and beef.
Eliza slipped off her shoe and tucked her toes up under the hem of his pants running the smoothness of her stockinged foot along his calf. “Now eat up. I have a show I am trying to make… staring one sexy professor…”
She giggled as this time he deadpanned, “No dessert for you, young lady, if you can’t do justice to some French chef who no doubt has his whole self-worth wrapped up in that dish you are consuming right there. He will be heartbroken. We can’t have that.”
“I have been wondering about it all day, Frank, what did you make for dessert?” she asked. All right, she had been thinking about it since the minute she’d decided to invite herself over to his place.
Enough trying to figure out when she might have her own house to herself. Enough trying to get a straight answer out of Josh about when he might be home. She wanted her privacy back, dammit, and then it had hit her. Frank’s place was 100 percent his own. No stray friends dropping in, no kids turning up in the middle of the night.
So she had arranged the perfect plan. It was so easy. It didn’t matter what he produced for coffee and dessert. It could be a mint from the tray as they left the Bistro. She didn’t care.
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