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 "Seven-fifty please," the man behind the glass watched her fumbling through her vintage purse. Caroline was running late as usual and in her nervous excitement couldn't locate the little coin purse located at the bottom of her bag. Triumphantly she produced it and slapped the money on the concave counter that sank to him. Taking off her sunglasses, Caroline entered the coolness of the theater. She was late and the movie had already started. In the darkness she couldn't see her hand in front of her face and stumbled into the next to last row while her eyes adjusted. She sank down into a seat in the middle of the aisle and cursed herself for missing the beginning of the film. It was one of those old black and white movies, grainy and romantic. The kind of film she loved, and the kind her husband hated. It was even subtitled. "Cara mia, vieni qui," the man on the screen crooned. She repositioned herself in her seat and could immediately feel hot breath on the back of her neck. She moved forward a little and whoever was behind her must have moved with her as the force of the breath remained the same. She tried to concentrate on the movie, to place herself in the starring role, a game she had played since she was young. The woman on screen was having a rendezvous with her lover and Caroline pretended the woman had been married as long as she had. It gave the affair a seedier quality and their passionate kiss upon the screen began to make her temperature rise.  Caroline sat back again and relaxed. The hot breath from before whispered in her ear three little words that sent her pulse racing."What a whore." Caroline jerked up in her seat. His voice was like velvet and the word whore rolled out of his mouth in much the same way her celluloid hero was serenading his lover. Her body felt tense and each little hair stood in attention on the back of her neck. She felt his nose brush past her thick, brown hair and she thanked herself for wearing it down. Her cinematic trance now broken she looked down and noticed the top button of her blouse had become unbuttoned. She had a perfect view of her still shapely breasts, they were white against the tan she had acquired from working in their yard. She wondered if the man behind her was also afforded this view. "You are beautiful," he whispered. Caroline was afraid to turn around, instead sitting rigidly still, facing forward, she tried to calm her racing heart that was on the verge of beating out of control. How long had it been since she had heard those words uttered in that way and directed at her? There was a hand on her shoulder. It traced the line of her neck and the curve of her chin, she remained immobile, eyes shut, heart thumping. The hand slowly drew itself up her face and traced her heart shaped lips, without thinking she parted them and was rewarded with a greasy piece of popcorn. His hand disappeared from where it had come and she let the popcorn dissolve in her mouth. His hand was back and this time her mouth welcomed it, she could hear them on the screen, even in her self created darkness she recognized the sounds of passion. This time she allowed the fingers further into her mouth and she tasted the familiar metallic bitterness of a wedding ring. Surprisingly the thought that he was also married calmed her and she leaned back into her chair. Caroline heard his chair squeak. She felt him lean forward so his chest was gently pressing against the back of her head. He reached over her and began with her collarbone leaving a buttery trail down into her blouse. Using the popcorn he traced around her breast, lingering on her nipple. It immediately stiffened under his touch. He let go of the popcorn, dropping it down her blouse, and replacing it with her nipple. Gently he pinched and tugged. She let out a low sigh and could feel herself growing wet. Caroline leaned back and felt his lips pressed against her skull, his tongue was making tiny ringlets with her hair. His hand came back this time full of hot greasy butter, he smeared it over her chest, rubbing it into the fullness of her breasts. She groaned, the movie was lost to her, her only thoughts were of this man sitting behind her. He leaned closer to her and she could smell his breath. "Whore," he released. She knew it. She wanted to be a whore, like the woman in the movie she wanted to be ripped apart and passionately made love to by someone who was forbidden. She heard the squeaking of his seat and felt the pressure that was behind her lighten. He had moved. She sat stunned, wondering if he had left the theater, and, more importantly, if she was supposed to follow. She looked up as someone was making their way down the row. It was him, she was sure of it. He sat down beside her and she sat frozen, afraid to look. He placed a hand on her thigh. "Close your eyes," he commanded.  Caroline did as she was told. The hand slowly moved its way up under her skirt. She shivered with his touch. He had another piece of popcorn and slid it gently under the elastic of her panties. He twisted it around in her mound of black pubic hair and gently used it to rub the hardened nub of her clit.Caroline spread her legs as much as possible and silently made thanks for the fact that there was no one seated beside her. She felt the hot butter melting in with her own sticky juices. He removed his hand and she could hear the popcorn crunching between his teeth. The music in the film was growing louder and she was sure the suspense was heightening as it was in her own real life movie. Her leg was shaking and he placed a hand upon it, as if he knew. Caroline sat up a little and began to open her eyes, the hand clasped over them and her darkness became complete. "Keep them closed," he murmured. She opened her mouth as if to speak and he slid his hand down over her face, now stifling her lips. She could understand that he wanted no words, the truth was she had nothing to say. He slipped his hand back up her leg. It rested on the place where her crotch began and she willed it to move just a little more. She was on fire and the teasing was something she could barely stand. With what felt like an eternity he brought his hand again to the outside of her panties. She knew he could feel how wet she was as he drew each finger across the small, soaked patch of silk. Caroline arched her back and drew her hips towards his hands. A sure sign she wanted more. She would be the woman on the screen, the woman whose lover would risk everything to see her. "Not yet," he whispered and removed his hand. She felt as if every breath had suddenly been taken out of her. "Meet me here," he said, stuffing something into her hand clenched upon the armrest. She opened her eyes and he was gone. On the screen the lover was departing, leaving the woman alone in the bedroom with tears in her eyes. Slowly Caroline uncurled her fist, in it lay a matchbook from a nearby hotel. She sat and watched as the woman on screen, now with her husband, entered a restaurant. She exhaled slowly, then got up and left the theater. She entered the hotel lobby and was unsure of where to go, he hadn't left a room number. Glancing over at the check-in desk she saw a bouquet of Daisy's, her favorite flower. Instinctively she went to them and picked up the little piece of paper peeking out from in between their stalks. She unfolded it and a key dropped out. Number 25. Her birthday.  Riding up the elevator she felt dizzy with desire. This had always been her biggest fantasy, meeting a stranger inside a swanky hotel room for a night of unforgettable lovemaking. For one night being able to act like a complete slut, Caroline felt freer than she ever had in her life.She stood outside the door to 25 and debated knocking. Instead she quietly placed the key in the lock and let herself in. All of the lights were off and low music was playing in the background. Caroline shut the door behind her. "Take your clothes off," the voice said. Caroline walked to the middle of the room and began to strip. She couldn't see his face, only his form lying on the bed. She began unbuttoning her blouse releasing her breasts that were already falling out of the skimpy lace bra. She couldn't believe the ease with which she was undressing in front of this man. Even in front of her husband she had always felt shy standing in the middle of the room unclothed while he just watched. This time she felt sexy as she unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it. "Just stand there," he said, "I want to look at you." Caroline did as she was told. Just like the woman in the film, she felt as if they were back in the 1930s, where she actually would never had questioned doing what he said. "Now come here," he beckoned. She walked to the bed and he grabbed her, roughly pulling her towards him. At once he began passionately covering her with hot, feverish kisses. Again she closed her eyes and again felt his hand gently tugging at her nipple. He soon buried it into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the hardened bud as he sucked and gently bit. She spread her legs under him, to show him how much she wanted him. "You like that, you little tramp," he accused. Weakly she nodded. "You'd like me to touch you, wouldn't you?" he asked, drawing his hand down her stomach. Again she nodded, again he teased, running his fingers back and forth across the very bottom of her belly. Slowly he brought them down, gently parting her moist lips. "Yes," she moaned, as he brought his head between her legs. Quickly he began to lick, bringing the colors from the base of her neck to the center of her forehead. He must have realized she was already about to come, because he suddenly slowed down. "Please," she begged. Without stopping the movement of his tongue he inserted a finger into her dripping pussy. Her hips bucked involuntarily as she moaned and sighed beneath him. She wanted all of him inside of her, over and over, again and again. He read her mind. He filled her completely, thrusting harder and faster with each ecstatic yell she omitted. They rose and fell together, coming at once in and over each other. The two of them lay there silently in the dark, holding each other in the close and sweaty softness that ends a good fuck. "Happy Anniversary Caroline," he whispered in her ear. "Thank you, darling," she smiled. "Only next time, I get to pick the movie we play," he said and began covering her with the only kisses she had grown to love.
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