Matinee
It was the first summer that Ruth and I had a little freedom. One Saturday, Funny Face was playing at the local theater, and she and I begged our parents to let us go to the matinee. The theater was about ten blocks away, and we felt some new kind of freedom walking there on our own. I’d only been to the theater a few times with my mother. The day was hot and muggy. I wore a white, short-sleeved blouse and my new skirt. My mother had insisted that my skirt couldn’t be above my knees—just like my school uniform.
Every girl wanted to be like Audrey Hepburn. The movie was about Fred Astaire taking her to Paris and photographing her around the city. It was so romantic that I get moody remembering it. Ruth and I sat in the center seats about midway from the screen. There were only a few people scattered around the theater. There were no other people in our row. Even though we were utterly absorbed in the movie, we looked at each other, and Ruth frowned when two boys sat on either side of us.
They didn’t say anything, and we turned back to the movie. As things got complex in Paris, I felt the boy next to me put his hand on my arm. I pulled my arm away from him, but his touch on the bare skin of my arm lingered. I hadn’t been on a date with a boy. I’d not been asked on a date, and I’m sure my parents would have said that I was too young. The boys at school were always running around or staring at us. I can’t remember ever having a one-on-one conversation with a boy before then. The touch had been gentle. I didn’t dislike it. I put my arm back on the armrest. He touched me. This time I didn’t pull away.
He must have thought that I’d given him permission to touch me. He ran his hand lightly up and down my arm. He ran his fingers along the inside of my arm up under my sleeve. A tingle spread over me, and I was conscious of my chest and the bra holding me there. I pulled my arm back.
His hand lay next to my arm. I tried to watch the movie, but his touch was all I could think about. No boy had ever touched me like that and, even though I’d pulled back, it felt sensitive where his fingers had been.
On the screen, it looked like Jo and Dick were not going to get together. The boy reached over and took my hand. He meshed his fingers with mine. His hand was strong and covered mine. At first, I pulled away, but he held me. I was unsure what to do. He held me and ran the fingers of his other hand along my wrist. I was immobilized. I wanted to pull away, but his fingers sliding along my arm made me warm. I couldn’t move as he reached his fingers under my sleeve and brushed over my bare shoulder. My chest seemed tight as each breath drew my bra tighter. His fingers dropped from my shoulder to under my arm as he stroked the smooth skin there. I’d started shaving my legs and under my arms six months ago. I’d shaved this morning, and his fingers found the most sensitive place.
I turned to Ruth. As she met my eyes, I saw beyond her face that the boy next to her had one hand on her upper arm and the other over her shoulders. She seemed to be looking far beyond me.
I only saw brief images of the last scenes of the movie as my mind focused on his fingers and the feelings he was calling up. When the closing credits started, he freed my hand, shifted in his seat, ran his hand along my back to my neck, and pulled my head to him. With my first kiss, all I could think of was how strong his lips felt. He pressed his lips to mine, and I found myself answering as he drew me to him.
And then it was over. The lights came up. People were walking up the aisles. The boys stood up. Ruth and I did, as well. My boy turned toward the aisle, and we followed him. In the lobby, Ruth and I found out that the boys were brothers named James and Robert. The one who’d sat with me was James. In the light, I could see that the boys were older than we were. They treated us completely different than boys our age. They asked if we planned to go to the matinee next Saturday. Ruth and I looked at each other. I nodded, and we both said yes.
All the way home, Ruth and I talked about the boys. She’d never kissed a boy either. I said that I wasn’t sure if his hand under my blouse was okay. She said that it felt so good that she couldn’t stop her boy. I knew what she meant.
The next week Funny Face was still playing. My mother laughed at us for wanting to see it again.
We sat in the same seats. James and Robert came to sit next to us as soon as the lights went down and the cartoon started.
James rubbed the inside of my upper arm, sliding his hand inside my sleeve. By the time he reached my shoulder, I was breathless. His fingers slid under my bra strap and across the skin at the top of my bra cup. I pulled back and put my hand over his to stop him. He leaned closer and put his arm over my shoulder. He held my head and kissed me. The feel of his lips was so intense that it was only with a distant part of my mind that I felt him pull his hand out of my sleeve. I kissed him back, concentrating on the softness of his lips.
He cupped my breast with his hand over my blouse. The kiss was so intense that, at first, I didn’t react. Then I put my hand over his, intending to pull his hand away. When I pulled his hand down, three things happened. The first was that his hand didn’t move; instead, he held my breast tighter. The second was that he slipped his tongue between my lips. The third was that the warm feeling between my legs shot up. I touched his tongue with mine and dropped my hand. I pressed my chest against his hand. The heat got hotter.
I wanted to look over and see what Ruth was doing. I was sure she’d be able to see James’ hand on me. I was wearing a white blouse. Even in the dark, she’d be able to see his hand. I must have been breathing hard because my head was light, and James’ tongue was wonderful. I hardly noticed when he moved his hand and fumbled at my front. Only when his hand cupped my bra did I realize that he’d unbuttoned me. He raised his hand, and his hot skin almost burned me as he ran his fingers under the edge my bra and across the top of my breast.
I shouldn’t let him slid his hand down inside my bra, but I was immobilized. The heat was intense from between my legs. He touched my nipple. An electric shock hit me. I sat up and pulled his hand out. That broke the kiss. I looked around, expecting that the whole theater would be staring at me. But no one was looking my way.
Hepburn and Astaire were back in Paris.
Ruth was kissing Robert; her head was turned up to him. Her blouse was unbuttoned, and Robert’s hand was inside her bra. I’d expected that she’d be looking at me with a frown, but I could see that she was as lost in Robert as I had been with James. I thought that I’d broken the spell with James, but he kissed my ear. It sent chills down my spine. He slid his hand down my back, pulled me to him, and I met his lips again. His hand reached under my blouse in back. His hand was hot on the bare skin of my back. He shifted, and I realized he was undoing my bra. I started to protest, but his other hand quickly slipped under my bra cup and held me. Having his hot hand engulf my breast made the heat flow out from where his hand burned on me. His finger circled my nipple, and I moaned. I didn’t intend to. I moaned again.
He kept fingering my left nipple. He slipped across to my other breast and brushed my nipple. Without realizing what I was doing, I slid down in the seat, and my bra slid up. He rubbed one nipple and then the other. As he went back and forth, I fell into a daze. He leaned down, kissed my nose, and then covered my lips with his. I must have been in that daze for an hour. I heard the music change and pulled my blouse together just as the titles started to run up the screen. I had my blouse buttoned before the lights came up.
Ruth and I stood with the boys in the lobby for a few minutes, but nobody could think of anything to say.
James met my eyes. “See you next week.”
Ruth and I went to the ladies’ room. I fastened my bra while sitting on the toilet. When I wiped, it was slippery. I put my finger in my slit and realized that I was very wet. I splashed my face and tried to comb my hair so that it wouldn’t look like I’d been doing what I had.
“He touched my breast,” Ruth said about halfway home.
“James touched me too,” I said.
“Anyone would think we’re sluts.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“Never.”
The next week Yellow Submarine was playing. I knew that there would be a lot of kids at the movie, but Ruth and I were drawn there like moths to a flame.
We were a few minutes early and went to the ladies’ room before the show. Just inside the door, I whispered to Ruth, “I’m going to take my bra off.”
In the stall, I slipped my blouse down, unsnapped my bra, folded it up, and put it in my purse. Sitting on the toilet, I pulled some paper off, folded it over, and wiped. The paper was more than wet; it was slimy. I looked down. My panties were down around my ankles. Without thinking about it, I stepped out of them and stuffed them into my purse.
As we walked down the stairs to the main floor, I was sure that everyone could tell that I wasn’t wearing any underwear. Ruth had taken her bra off too.
James and Robert were in the lobby and came to us as soon as they saw us.
“Let’s sit in the balcony,” James said.
I looked at Ruth. We both looked at the floor. James took my arm and led us back up the stairs. Ruth followed with Robert. I hadn’t been to the balcony before. Even with the lights up, it was darker than the main floor. Above the dozen rows of seats, the light from the projector coming out of a square hole was the only illumination.
James led us up the center aisle to seats almost in back of the balcony. Robert went in first; Ruth followed him. I took her hand and sat next to her. James sat on the aisle.
The lights went out on the main floor, and the movie started. There was a couple sitting about halfway down the balcony. They were the only others in the blackness below the projector.
As soon as he sat down, James put his arm around my shoulder and kissed my ear. I shuddered with the chill. I turned my face to him, and he met my lips. The same soft lips pressed to mine, and the same tongue danced with mine. He hesitated as his hand reached for my breast. Last time I’d pushed him away, but he’d waited until my excitement had overcome my resistance. I could tell that he wanted to touch me. I took a deep breath and pushed my chest out. He must have understood what that meant because he grasped my right breast. His hold would have told him immediately that I didn’t have a bra on. He held me and squeezed. He fumbled with my blouse, unbuttoning it. Soon he’d be holding my naked breast. The anticipation was almost as exciting as what I felt when he slipped his hand inside my blouse and cupped me. His fingers sought out my nipple, and he made circles for a while and then took my nipple between his fingers and pulled gently. For an instant, my mind looked down at my lap and the warmth there.
I’d forgotten about the moans. They came again. He switched to the other breast, and the warmth between my legs became heat. He unbuttoned the rest of my blouse and pulled it back, exposing me. He sat back. I looked down. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and in the faint light from the projector, I could see my naked breasts. He was staring at me. I pushed my chest out. He reached over my shoulder with his other hand and fingered my left nipple while he did the same on my right nipple. I felt my nipples got tight, and I watched his finger on my nipples. The intensity from his rubbing both nipples was more than double what it had been for only one. I sought his lips and pressed my tongue to meet his.
We kissed while his hands caressed my breasts that lay naked. I was so absorbed, that I didn’t notice he’d stopped fingering my right nipple until there was a hand on my knee. I didn’t react. A part of my mind felt his lips on mine, his tongue touching mine, and his fingers circling my nipple. But another part of me felt his hand caress my knee then slide up to the edge of my skirt with his fingers along the inside of my leg. He paused as if waiting for me to give him a sign. Slowly and softly, his fingers continued up my inner thigh. A part of me knew that he wouldn’t stop until he reached my slit. But still, I watched from a quiet place as his hand pushed my skirt up, and his fingers slid deeper between my legs. His fingers brushed against the inner side of my other leg.
Two actions that seemed to have no connection occurred in my seat in the balcony. In one action, my lips devoured James’ lips, my tongue danced with his, his fingers circled and pulled my nipple, and my breasts lay open to his eyes. In the other action, James’s fingers caressed the soft skin of my inner thighs, inching closer to the fiery place. His fingers slid across the top of my leg and up. He touched the crease of my leg and pressed toward the burning place. His fingers paused at my bush, brushing back and forth in the soft hair. He swept across my bush to my other leg, and then his hand settled on my bush with his fingers between my legs. I knew that he’d soon press his finger in my slit. But would he press hard and answer the ache I felt. Or would he use a single finger and touch my virgin clit.
He lifted his hand and folded my skirt up. The air was cool on my nakedness. Then he returned his hand to my bush. His finger slid down to where my slick clit waited. As soon as he touched it, my two halves merged. I felt his tongue with mine and his finger on my clit, and it was a whole. I moaned. I slid down in the seat and spread my legs.
He answered by sliding his finger down and into me. Back and forth, he rubbed my clit and dove into me. My hips answered every one of his thrusts inside me. The pleasure flowed up from between my legs. Soon it overflowed. I held him to me as my body shook.
As my body settled, I realized Ruth was next to me. Her skirt was pulled up, and Robert had his hand in her panties. I watched as she thrust against his hand. I heard her panting. She must be feeling what I just had. She made little murmurs. In a few minutes, she arched her back and shook.
James still had his fingers in my slit and was rubbing gently. I turned and freed my right hand. I dropped it to his leg and stroked him. I knew he must be excited, and I wanted to feel his penis. I’d only seen pictures and never seen one erect. I rubbed up to his crotch. There was a hard bump inside his pants. It was bigger than I had expected.
He turned and brought his hand up. He undid his belt and unzipped his pants. He waited. I ran my hand over him, feeling the hard lump inside his underwear. I lifted my hand above his waist and slipped inside his underpants. Just below his waistband, it waited. My fingers touched the soft round end. I pressed on to the edge of the end and along the hard shaft.
He lifted his hips and slid his underwear down. I held his penis as it stood up. I rubbed the soft end, and he gripped my shoulder. I held him in my hand and stroked gently. He covered my hand with his and squeezed. When he released me, I held him more tightly. He took my hand, leaned over, and licked my palm. When I returned to stroking up and down, I held him tighter. I licked my palm. His hips were answering my strokes as I concentrated on rubbing the end.
He arched his back, and something poured out of him. I put my other hand over and let it flow onto my palm. I realized that I was holding that fluid that, if I let him put it in me, would make a baby. It was scary. A few minutes earlier, he’d been driving his fingers into me, and I’d been lost in the feeling. If he’d been able, I’d have gladly let him put his penis in me.
I squeezed the last of the fluid from the head of his penis into my hand and sat back. I found my purse on the floor, pulled out a tissue, and wiped his fluid off my hand.
It looked like Ruth and Robert were doing what James and I had just finished. James pulled his pants up. I buttoned my blouse. James leaned over me, and, as he kissed me, he slid his fingers into my slit. It felt good, and then it felt better. I settled lower in the seat and spread my legs. He rubbed my clit and slipped his fingers into me. I drifted with the feeling, and soon it built. He sped up, and my pleasure overflowed, making me shake and twitch.
I was still coming down when the lights came up. I looked down to where my blouse opened to my naked breasts, and my skirt was pulled up, exposing James’ hand in my bush. I sat up, buttoned my blouse, and pulled my skirt down. Ruth glanced over at me as she buttoned her blouse.
We stopped at the top of the stairs.
“We need to go to the ladies’ room,” I said.
“Robert and I are headed home Wednesday,” James said. “We were staying at our aunt’s place for the summer.”
“Maybe next summer,” I said.
Ruth and I stood together as the boys walked down the stairs.
“I wonder how long they’ll be telling their friends about the two sluts they met over the summer,” she said.
