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A night for theatre

She was tired, a little under the weather, much too distracted to be going out, yet she found herself in the bathroom applying makeup to do just that. Her friend called her excitedly an hour earlier, telling her that she got tickets to a mutual friend’s play, production of some forgotten musical that she had no interest in seeing. She distinctly remembered not liking the movie version but, having been housebound for several days with the sick partner, she decided she needed the night out and she agreed to go.

The weather was just warming up during the day but the night would be chilly but she layered two tank -tops under a sweater and added a long flowing skirt.  She wasn’t feeling particularly interested, but as she went to her lingerie drawer she chose a small pair of pink panties that were soft and comfortable even though they were incredibly thin. As she pulled them on under her skirt, she let her fingers drift and realize that she would be able to feel the breeze as she walked.

She left her house with plenty of time to walk to the corner where her friends would pick her up. They came by their small used car, the top down surprisingly early for this time of year, and she hopped in the back. She felt her skirt slide up her thighs and Stacy giggled and thanked her for the flash.  Blushing, she pressed her skirt down and got settled the back seat.

The drive to the theater did not take long and the evening air felt good on her face. She was glad she left the house, glad she got some fresh air, and her spirits began to lift. While her friends parked the car, she walked up to the Will Call window and waited in line. It moved quickly as most of the tickets were already paid for and soon she was in front where she was greeted by a cute young American with short brown hair and a quick smile.

“I’m glad you made it to the show tonight,” he said, “the audience was missing a tall pretty brunette with a glowing smile.”

As he slid the tickets underneath the glass she put her hand on top of his to continue the flirt. “I’m glad I could make it, I was hoping to get a seat with an empty chair next to you.”

He smiled back and said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

The play was, as she feared, subpar even though her friend was doing a fine job as the priest. Her headache was returning and she settled back into the chair, hoping the darkness of the theater would allow a quick nap before intermission. As the play blended with her dreams she felt someone sit next to her and she startled awake and set back up.

“I get to close the ticket booth 15 minutes after the show starts.” He whispered in her air, “Luckily,” he said, “there was one empty seat left for me.”

“Is it any good?” He asked.

“Not really,” she replied, “but I know the priest and so we had to show up.”

“I used to date the understudy,” he said in a conspiratorial tone, “we don’t talk anymore but we are on the tour until we reach Dublin.”

He was sitting unusually close to her, even with the armrest down between them, and when he raised it out of the way he got even closer. Thoughts were running through her head but she decided not to fight it. He was cute, the tour was leaving town soon, and he was destined to go back to America within weeks. ‘What’s the harm of the little flirting?’ she asked herself.

It did not take long for him to put his hands on her knees and she gasped a little bit but decided play to play along. . “What the hell?” She thought.

She rested her head on his shoulder and let her knees open. His hands confidently moved up underneath her skirt and felt the strong muscles of her thigh. He spent forever there, just inches away from her panties but not moving forward or back. He just stroked the soft, rarely seen skin, again and again, strumming her skin like a guitar, lazily, temptingly close, but staying away.

He removed his hands in order to clap as the first act came to a close and intermission began. “I have to run back to the ticket booth for a few minutes,” he said giving her a quick peck on the cheek, “save my seat please.”

She stared up at him as he left his seat and mumbled a “yes.” She felt silly, but she wanted intermission to be over now.

As she stood in line to buy a latte and biscotti Stacy asked who it was sitting next to her. “I don’t know,” she said quite honestly, “I think he works in the theater and just wanted to watch part of the show.”

“Well,” her friend said, “he’s kind of cute, we should ask him out for drinks after the show.”

“I think he’s dating somebody from the cast, so maybe we should just leave him alone.”

“I don’t know. He’s really cute.” Stacy insisted and gave her the raised eyebrow look to imply that something else was going on.

She blushed, and turned her attention to the coffee in her hand and tried to change the subject. After a few minutes of general chit chat about her sick partner and the flu that’s been running through the city, the house lights flickered and they wandered back into the theater to take their seats. She briefly considered going to the restroom to check on things, but as she walked she realized there was no need to check, she knew exactly how her body was feeling.

She took her seat and put the armrest down, wondering what he would do, smiling at the prospects. She felt dangerous, wanted, irresponsible, and it was a nice break from playing nursemaid.

10 minutes after the second act began she felt him slip into the seat next to her but she did not look away from the stage. With great confidence he sat down and lifted the armrest out of the way and put his hand back on her thigh. This time he did not wait at all.  He slipped his hand further between her thighs and she felt herself open for him.  She tried to breathe. She tried to rationalize. Instead, she just opened further.

“I like this part.” He said in a hoarse whisper as he leaned over to her.

Carol wasn’t sure if he was talking about the play or her skin under his nimble fingers but she whispered back, “I really like this too.”

“Good, because it’s about to get better.”

She couldn’t believe what was happening but she lifted her skirt up just enough to give him full access,  His arm was up to his elbow under her skirt and she laid it down on top to hide it. She spread her legs as wide as she could in the theater seats and reveled in the touch, his smooth fingers grazing over the surface of the thin panties, the wetness that was flowing through and onto the theater seats.

As the dialogue on stage intensified his fingers slipped underneath the fabric and penetrated deeply, quickly, filing her up with two fingers. She was stunned, but her body reacted well and she shifted her hips to give him better access. Soon two fingers were in to the knuckle and she felt him curling them up inside her, stroking the front wall of her vagina, bringing the blood to all the right places.

She tried to keep her eyes open, tried to focus on the stage, but was afraid to make a single sound in fear of groaning, or crying out. Soon she was on the edge, at that point of no return, and she pushed her left knee into his, lifting it up over his leg. Fully spread, deeply impaled, he squeezed his hand and brought the heel of his hand down against her clit, her orgasm was immediate, intense, and very very wet.

Stacy looked over at the noise and saw what was happening. As smoothly as she could, she intertwined her fingers with Carol’s and held her hand as her orgasm washed her body.

Gasping in the dark, she felt his fingers slow down, extract themselves, and gently spread the wetness, painting her tender lips with her fragrance. She grasped Stacy’s hand tightly which gave her comfort as she tried to catch her breath. Slowly, Carol sat up and focused her breathing, her eyes, and a little bit of her brain.

“I have to close down the ticket office and count the receipts.” He said with a grin as he pulled his hand out from under her skirt. “I hope you enjoyed the show.”

Carol said little as she staggered out of the theater, her hand still entwined with her friends who gave her support. Stacy gave the keys to her boyfriend sat in the back with her, they rested their heads on the each other’s shoulders, alternating the subservient pose.

“I told you he was cute.”

She drifted into a haze, she whispered, “I really have to get to the theater more often.” 
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