This story is dedicated to my girlfriend and her sweet, lovely pussy.
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James pushed open the door to the theater. He'd had a godawful day, had been to three job interviews already this morning, and they all went poorly. He'd thought moving to LA would help, there wasn't any work for him in San Diego, but it was turning out to be harder than he thought it would be. Walking back to his crummy room at the Red Roof Inn, he hadn't managed to find an apartment yet either, he'd passed the run-down old theater and stopped. It was showing Wild Things, of all movies, a sexy as hell little thriller from the late nineties, starring Neve Campbell, pure smoking-hot trailer trash, and suddenly things were looking up. He bought a ticket. Fuck it.
As he walked into the darkened room, a small, somewhat ratty yet not decrepit theater with maybe 50 seats, a wash of cool air dried the sweat on his face and he let out his breath. This was the right move. Was he all alone in here? He loved to be all by himself at the movies. But no, a couple of rows up he could see the back of someone's head, long straight black hair. She was sitting right where he liked to sit, right in the middle, four rows from the back. Oh well, that wouldn't ruin his mood. He started down the aisle.
The woman turned to see who had come in and he gasped involuntarily -- her face was shockingly beautiful. Framed by that long black hair, she had glowing caramel-colored skin, and her dark half-lidded eyes seemed to have some kind of internal light underneath her long lashes. She had a spray of freckles over a cute little round nose, and a wide, generous mouth, with a...smile? Was she smiling at him? Couldn't be. James stiffened in his pants, suddenly almost a little frightened by his eagerness. She turned her head back to the screen, where a woman, larger than life, with bright red lips pursed around a straw, was taking a drink of coke. The sizzle and pop sound of the coke commercial filled the room. There's no way, right? This kind of thing doesn't happen, he thought. He took another couple of steps down the aisle and paused right next to her row. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this hard, his cock straining at his pants. He knew it would be visible to anyone who glanced in that direction.
James turned down her row. This is the kind of thing people get arrested for, he thought, but the thought was pushed out of his mind by the proximity of this woman. He thought he could even smell her, the odor of peonies and lychee wafting through the air. He moved closer and she scooched back in her chair, her head cocked a little. "Excuse me," James said with a nervous grin, as he turned a little towards her in order to go past. His pants, and the straining cock contained by them, was only a foot or two from that gorgeous face, and yes, she was looking -- or at least she took a quick glance, before looking up at him, smiling a little half-smile, and patting the seat next to her. "This seat's available," she said.