Secret Date

We’re in the dark. Sitting side by side, surrounded by people, but alone, in the dark. His mouth is on my ear, he says...

There’s a group. Fans, hangers-on, junior colleagues, Hairline Boy, Power Girl, Secret Scientist and me.

Allegiance: he warned me last time when girlfriend came along, I told him I was fine either way but couldn’t take a surprise, the coded phone call is the first tiny step towards the damp-sheeted tangle late one night to come.

No girlfriend this time. Just us. Two’s company, twelve’s a crowd.

Nudging my thigh between his legs when he hugs me

The junior colleagues’ faces fall, Power Girl and I are dressier, standing distant enough from the door to be a whole picture (“after you knock on the door, stand back a couple of steps…it’s important that the client gets the full image of you…” thank you, Sydney). We’re also older, more successful, less anxious, but we’re extra kind tonight and they relax. The hangers-on orbit gently. I’m a fool to dress for sex instead of the weather, Hairline Boy brings a sweater (white! cable knit! preppy beyond belief!) from his car and a long hug but the theatre is warmer even than his look.

His mouth is on my ear, his goatee tickles firmly

Into the theatre, up to the balcony, Secret Scientist, Power Girl and I deploy to the end of the row, Hairline Boy responsibly dealing with tickets is cut off at the pass, a sea of goth-y underage flesh between us.

My hand on his thigh, my nails on the inseam of his jeans

Secret Scientist brings a mug of tea, a beer, a bowl of noodles. He offers a bite and I suck the noodles off the fork, Asian sweet-vinegar in my mouth like sucking him. I adore being brought food, I adore sharing food, being fed, intimacy through basic need fulfilled.

sitting at Lover’s feet, my hands tied, fed salad and steak and then his cock…

The show, not all-around brilliant but decent, especially the actor we know. “Good,” Power Girl whispers, “now we don’t have to like him less.” We’re all facing forward, the stage light spills but the play is enough that no-one’s watching, the height of my crossed legs hiding us from all but Power Girl, who’s occupied mentally re-directing the show.

His hand gently beneath my hem, the outside of my thigh, the top of my thigh

In the interval, the dessert line, something sweet to share with Power Girl. Secret Scientist at the bar, I brush past him, a low tone less obvious than a whisper, “Do you know how much I want to fuck you right now?” “As much as I want to lick your pussy until you scream?”

My nails across his palm, the tips of his fingers across my palm

Applause and the lights go down. Secret Scientist’s mouth is on my ear, he says, “Open your legs.” It takes me a moment to understand and I do, his hand strong on thin lace panties, his fingers probing gently. I cross my legs again as his hand retracts and the lights come up all together. I clap and look left, he’s thoughtfully licking his fingers.

”Lover, is it enough I thought of you?” (but I didn’t)