“Hmmmm….” She was wearing flip-flops and she dropped one off her foot and then crossed her top foot over the bottom one as she thought about what she wanted. “A small Diet Coke and a medium popcorn.”
The girl went and got the order ready and I paid for it.
I took the popcorn bag and Lindsay carried her soda. We went into our theatre and I led her over to a nice cozy row of seats in the far back corner. The two of us sat down next to each other.
It was hard to focus on the movie, because Lindsay was right next to me, and our legs were touching. We shared the popcorn and my hand kept touching hers as we reached for the bag. It wasn’t always an accident on my part, either.
After a little while, she started whispering questions at me. “Why did you say you were having a weird day?” Her breath tickled my ear as she spoke, and it was getting me even more turned on than I already was.
I shrugged.
“Come on, I want to know. Please.” She whispered again, drawing out the word please, and grabbing my hand as she said it.
Finally, I leaned over. “Come on, we can’t talk in here.”
“Where are we going?”
“Just follow me,” I instructed, and then I ran out of the dark theater. She caught up to me in the hallway.
“Justin, what the hell?”
“Look, I’m pretty sure one of these theatres is empty right now. Let’s sneak into it and talk where nobody can hear us.”
“That’s illegal.”
I laughed again. “I don’t think they’re going to come and arrest us for sneaking into an empty theatre.”
“No way.” She shook her head. “Let’s just go back inside the movie we paid to see.”
“No, that movie sucks.” I grabbed her hand again, tugging her toward me. “Trust me, Lindsay.”
She took a deep breath and bit her lip.
“Come on,” I teased. “You know you’re curious. You’re dying to live life on the edge.”
She rolled her eyes. “Hardly.”
Still, she let me drag her into the first empty theatre I could find. It was actually still dark because the credits from the last movie were rolling, but everyone had already left. We went all the way to the back and sat down together.
In the darkness, I could make out her t-shirt and the way her breasts were barely concealed beneath the tight fabric. It made me crazy that she’d worn such a tight-fitting shirt. I’d already known she had a sexy body, but now she was actively flaunting it and I was struggling to remember why I’d decided to just be friends with this girl.
“Are you still nervous?” I asked.
She nodded. “Of course! What if someone comes in?”
“We’ll just duck down and hope they don’t come all the way back here. Or call the police.”
Her eyes widened in alarm.
“I’m just kidding.” I took her hands in mine. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.
Anyway, the worst thing they would do is kick us out. And if that happens, we’ll just go outside and talk.”
I rubbed her hands softly as I spoke and I felt her relax. Her skin was soft and smooth. I liked holding her hands in mine, and I liked making her feel good. “I had to quit working with my MMA coach today,” I said nonchalantly, as my fingers continued to stroke her palms.
She looked startled. “You quit fighting?”
“No, I didn’t quit fighting. But I did sort of quit going to my gym and basically fired my trainer. Or maybe he fired me—I’m not totally sure.”
“What happened?”
I told her the basic story, and all the while, I kept massaging her hands. It was interesting, because on one level, I was completely turned on. And I got the feeling that I was definitely turning her on, too. But neither of us said anything about the fact that I was giving her this seductive hand rub. We just kept discussing my coaching issues.
I could hardly focus on the conversation, because all I could do was imagine myself kissing those soft lips of hers, and then down her neck, feeling those tits as I took off her bra…
“…doing what he did,” she said. “Don’t you think?”
“Huh?” I asked, truly confused about what she’d been saying.
“I said, he must have had a good reason for doing what he did. I mean, he’s your coach, he wants you to succeed. It’s his job.”
“Coach Jansen is weird, though. A lot of people say that he tries too hard to be more than a coach or a trainer should be. He’s trying to be everyone’s father, their psychiatrist, their priest. He’s never just a coach, and he tries to make it all about his system and his gym and his way of doing things.”
“Do you think it’s true? Is that why he tried to take away your contract?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I just know that I was already turning down offers from other gyms and smaller organizations last year, because I wanted to keep working with Coach Jansen.”
“Well, maybe this is a good thing, then. Maybe you need to go on the market and see what you’re worth.”
“Go on the market? Like I’m dating or something?”