I knew mom was lonely. She had lost most of her friends when my father left. We could no longer afford the house, not on her income alone so we moved across town to a two bed apartment with cockroaches for pets. For a while her old friends visited. They would sit at the old dinner table, drink tea and make ever more stilted small talk. The visits gradually became less frequent, until they stopped altogether. Eventually it was just the two of us, always the two of us.
She was still a beautiful woman. I thought so anyway. She had turned 40 the year before and though she had a few smile lines, she still looked the same as she did in the photos I had seen of her in her twenties. She was a natural strawberry blonde, with bright blue eyes that seemed to shine when she laughed. I loved hearing her laugh. It had seemed for a long time that she would never laugh again, so I made sure I treasured every one.
Catching the train home was easy and quick, none of the rush hour crush. Mom should have been home but her car wasn't out front of the apartment. I unlocked the door and threw my satchel on the floor. There was a note on the table.
Honey,
I have had to go out for work. There are some cold cuts and bread in the fridge, make yourself a sandwich. Don't be late for the movie. Enjoy.
Love,
Mom.
Inside I groaned. I had thought that if mom had been at home, I could have convinced her to hire a movie and for the pair of us to spend the night together. No such luck.
I made a sandwich and sat at the table. I would have to get ready soon, if I was going to go. I ran my fingers through my hair. It was just too weird, then I thought about mom's eyes when she suggested I go. She had wanted me to go. I could tell. If I enjoyed it, I could tell her about it. She didn't get much fun, perhaps I owed it to her to have some and share it with her.
"Damn it," I said to myself. "Why not? Just once."
I didn't know what I was going to wear, I really didn't have much in the way of a wardrobe. I opened the door of my bedroom and on the back of the door there was a new navy blue pinstripe suit hanging beside a crisply ironed shirt. There was a note pinned to the lapel.
For you, enjoy.
Mom. She'd thought of everything. The shirt was cool and clean. It felt good as I did the buttons up. I tied the tie, taking a couple of attempts before it was perfect. The suit fit perfectly and I suddenly felt less like a boy and more like a man. A pair of black oxfords were beside my bed and a black trilby sat on the cover. I tied the laces on the shoes and put the trilby on my head. I looked in the mirror and I had to smile. I looked like Bogart. All I needed was a Bacall.
I arrived at the theatre just in time. The lights were lowering as I walked in. I found my seat, but there was no one else there. My heart sank. How do you get stood up by a blind date, after they go to the effort of inviting you? I stood at the end of the aisle, trying to decide what to do next as the movie flickered to life, revealing the theatre in monochrome shadow. The title credits rolled and that settled it. I loved Key Largo. I glanced at the ticket once more. My seat was in the middle of the aisle. I edged to my seat, took off my hat and placed it on the seat beside mine. I looked around the theatre and realised I was alone. There is something strangely unnerving about sitting in a cinema alone and I felt uneasy, as if I were doing something wrong, even though all I had done was accept a movie ticket from a secret admirer, who had wanted to remain so secret, they had not even shown up.
Bacall had first appeared on the screen when I saw her.
She pushed open the door and was standing at the entrance looking up towards me. I could not tell how old she was but I thought she looked somehow mature. The curves were more lush and she moved with the confidence of an older woman. Her long blonde hair hung down over her shoulder in a long sensuous wave. She wore a hat, that looked blood red in the flickering light of the projector. It angled down over her face, obscuring all but her lips and chin. I could see her lips in the light leaking past her from the theatre lobby. They were red and full. She looked up at me and I thought I saw her smile.
She closed the door behind her and the cinema was dark again, lit only by the projector. I watched her, fascinated. She looked so elegant. Her skirt hugged her hips and descended in soft curves to her knees. She wore a blouse beneath a figure hugging jacket. I could tell, even from my perch, high in the theatre, that beneath the blouse she had gorgeous full breasts. The blouse opened at the neck to show a deep, creamy white cleavage that seemed to plunge into the unknown. She looked up at me again, and I quickly looked away, afraid she had caught me staring at her. She turned and began to climb the stairs towards me. I tried not to watch but I could not help staring as I watched her move. Her hips swung with each step, and I watched as her breasts shifted beneath the blouse. I could feel myself begin to stir and I tried to look away.
She stopped at the end of my row and I was about to move, expecting her to berate me for staring at her, but she walked into the row, turned to the screen and sat beside me. I could smell her perfume, thick and musky. I tried to look at the screen but her presence almost overwhelmed me. My cock was hard. I could feel it straining against the fabric of my suit. I turned to look at her for a moment. All I could see was the red felt curve of the hat above her lips. Her lips were stained dark red with a lipstick that seemed to almost shine in the reflected light of the film. She did not look away from the screen but she smiled. Her perfect lips curled slightly. I looked away again, the blood rising in my face.
I thought for a moment about getting up and leaving but as I fumbled beside me for my hat I felt her hand on my knee. I gasped and almost pulled my leg away, but her grip gently held me in place. In a moment that felt like a lifetime, I began to relax, but as I did, she began to trace circles and curlicues on my thigh with her fingernails. Her nails were a flawless red. They were long and tapered, and I shivered with each caress. I felt my cock twitch and a groan escaped my lips. Her hand began to climb my thigh. I looked at her but she was staring at the screen, still smiling.
I tensed waiting for her hand to finish it's journey. It stopped on my inner thigh, just short of my throbbing cock and I moaned again, wanting to move her hand onto my cock, but afraid to move at all. She felt me tense and her smile grew wider. I tried to speak but she took her hand from my thigh and put a finger to her ruby lips. She whispered something I didn't hear and she placed her hand back onto my cock. I jumped again. I felt her fingers go to work on my fly. I lay back as the zip slid down. She reached in, took the shaft of my cock and worked it free of it's confines. I felt her long slender fingers wrap around it. Her hand was cool against the fevered skin of the shaft. It throbbed in her hand and she began to slide her hand along the shaft in long, slow, sensuous caresses. I had never had my cock even touched by anyone other than myself and I almost instantly came with her touch. She wrapped her hand tight around the shaft, the thick head above her fingers. I heard her draw breath. I had never felt so hard, so excited.
I watched as her free hand fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, eventually allowing it to fall open revealing her breasts. I had not seen many breasts, and certainly none this close up, they looked huge. The soft milky skin curved above a bra that barely covered her nipple. I could see her nipples harden through the sheer fabric and I saw the ragged rise and fall of her chest. Her hand strayed to a nipple and she gently pinched it between her thumb and forefinger. Her other hand rose to surround the head of my cock. I groaned louder as her thumb circled the tip and toyed with the eye. I watched her lips as they parted slightly and the tip of her tongue caressed the upper lip. I still could not see her face and I wanted desperately to see more.
She let go of my cock and I thought she was going to get up and leave. A sound caught at the back of my throat, almost a word. I reached up to touch her hand, to somehow stop her, but instead of going she stood and turned, straddling my legs. I looked up to her face but in the dark of the theatre I could not see it clearly. She lowered her self onto my lap until her breasts hung in front of me. The bra was clasped in the front and she reached up to release it. Her breasts fell free. I had never seen anything so beautiful. They were thick and heavy. The soft skin flawless in the cinema light. Atop them were hard brown nipples, with beautiful pale areola that were puckered and wrinkled with arousal. I could not stop myself leaning forward. I reached up to guide one of them into my mouth but she gently took my hand and pushed it back onto the seat. She lifted the breast with the hand and placed the nipple between my lips. She tasted delicious. I could taste her skin and smell her scent. A hint of lemon beneath the musk. I tried to reach up again but she pushed both my hands onto the arms of the seat. I tried to wriggle free but she pressed her breast into my mouth, almost smothering me with their weight. I suckled the nipple, whimpering as her hips ground into mine, my cock throbbing between us.
I was breathless. I pulled my lips free and gasped air into my lungs but she pressed my face into the valley between her breasts. I felt her lift her weight from my hips and her hands hike her skirt above her hips. My cock sprang up like an iron bar between us. I could feel it engorged and stiff. She took my hand from the arm of the chair and placed my fingers between her legs. I could feel the soft skin of her thighs and the warmth of her pussy on my fingers. With one of her hands I could feel her reach in and spread her lips. Taking my hand she placed a fingertip on a swollen bud of engorged tissue. She arched her back, and pressed my face further into her cleavage. I rubbed her clit in small circles and with each roll of my finger, her hips would buck and she would cry out. I tried to look up at her face, but each time I did, she forced my face back into her breasts. My finger was coated in her juices and I could feel the heat of her pussy. I stopped caressing her clit for a moment and explored her pussy.
