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A chance meeting between two people left ashore.
We fight our way through the crush of people to find our seats. I'm slightly shocked when the usher directs us to a private box, and I look at you over my shoulder. "A box?"
You smile. "Hey, it's your first date in two years, it should be something special, right?"
I stop walking and touch your hand. "That's just about the sweetest thing I've ever heard. Thank you!"
You twine your fingers with mine, stretching and flexing against my hand. Your thumb sketches a naughty little circle in my palm, and you look in my eyes as my body begins to react. "You're very welcome."
Did I mention how crazy it is that I can still blush at this age? It turns out that the box is very private. Two elegant chairs face the balcony, turned slightly toward the stage. A silver ice bucket, an open bottle of wine and two fluted glasses sat to one side. I wonder if I looked as amazed as I feel.
Once we're seated, you reach over and pour a little wine into each glass and hand one to me. I take a brief sip, wetting my lips, before looking up at you and thanking you again.
"This is really beautiful." I added.
The house lights began to dim. You smile and brush your lips over mine again before settling back against the chair. I find myself finally beginning to relax. The actors are better than I'd imagined, and I'm starting to get into the story. You've settled your chair even closer to mine, our thighs resting against one another. The nearness and warmth of your body suddenly makes it very difficult for me to concentrate on the stage.
You murmur something about one of the actors into my ear, your lips brushing against me, your breath warm and seductive. I don't even register what you've said, simply nod and try to breathe. I can't hide the shiver.
I feel your fingers at my wrist, moving slowly and softly over the hand resting in my lap until our fingers are entwined again. My senses are screaming. Every move, every touch is heightened. I'm going crazy. We're just holding hands, for goodness sake.
I feel your breath against my neck. I close my eyes and pray for strength as I feel your lips rub against my neck, moving very slowly and very softly, making me ache in places you can't see. I want to grab you and take you away, anywhere, someplace where we can grind into one another, again and again, until our bodies are sated.
My nipples stiffen again, pushing against the soft fabric of my knit top. Your fingers lift from mine, the back of each finger a means to torment me as you rub each lightly over me, a berry begging again for your attention. My thighs clench. Places lower and darker and (by now) far wetter twitch in response. I watch helplessly in the dark, unable to make a sound, while your fingers move on my nipples, sending darts of pleasure and tension down my body, making my knees ache. You move your mouth up to my ear, a sweet and dark whisper.
"Be very quiet." you warn softly.
I turn my head slightly and whisper back, "What are you doing? You're driving me insane."
Your tongue moves over my ear, quickly, lightly. "Think of it as another way to make this a special night."
My heart, already racing, picks up its pace. Your fingers move lower, touching my hand again, moving it aside. I can feel your fingertips, just the very tips, moving down my skirt, down my thigh, inside the knee, cupping, urging me to move my legs apart, give you access. Is it possible to go up in flames? It's getting hard to breathe. I spread my legs for you. I can feel my heartbeat in my ears, between my thighs, centred in my clit, a small aching stem. My short, full skirt isn't much of a barrier to your roving fingers. They skim underneath the fabric, tracing little repetitive circular patterns on the soft skin of my inner thighs, higher each time. Silently asking me to spread even wider.
I move my legs apart even more, giving you full access, leaving my body open to whatever caress you want to give.