The Theater

The Theater Part 1

The theater was empty. It was a relic of days gone by, and was all the more charming for it. Rickety, small seats sat primly folded into themselves in cramped and sticky rows. Their scarlet corduroy fabric boasted faded ass marks lovingly imprinted over endless years of use. The scent of popcorn seemed permanently imprinted in the air, and was accompanied by the dark, comforting smell of must. The red exit sign glowed like a beacon in the front corner, nestled lovingly below the massive screen, which itself was dotted and scarred by age. It rested atop an equally scarred and worn wooden stage, used for the occasional event, and befittingly bookended by a worn pair of red velvet curtains, tied off with black silk corded ties, their ends fringed by age rather than design. The domed ceiling was intricately carved and once would have been quite the spectacle, adorned as it was with a massive crystal chandelier, dripping with glitz and now probably a metric ton of dust.

The tinny music of the old black and white film currently being projected onto the screen echoed almost hesitatingly through the vast cavernous space, as if unsure of its place in this room near forgotten by time. It was a peaceful place, filled with memories and ghosts, and my absolute favorite place to be on a lazy Sunday afternoon. As the modern world streamed by outside its doors, ever-increasing in pace and freneticism, this place sat, untouched by progression, unmoved by modernism. The ghostly black and white images that played across the screen danced across my consciousness like a lullaby, soothing my spirit and quieting my soul.

I sat scooched down in my chair, my feet propped on the seat in front and to the left of me, the narrow rows providing just enough space for me to be stretched out diagonally, and let the old place soothe me with its sturdy stoicism.

Movie days were mine. They were my self-prescribed extra-large dose of self-care. When I was watching a movie, especially in this theater, I was completely transported. I was lifted on cozy wings to the lofts of other people's pain, other people's pleasure. Their stories became mine and for just a moment, I was able to get off my personal merry-go-round of anxiety and shame that was my normal.

In front of me, the flickering images grew brighter as the scene changed, the characters breaking into a dance number, and it was in that exact moment that I saw him.

He was the only other person in the theater. He must have just entered, because I would have noticed him if he had been there when I walked in. He was gorgeous. He sat just one row behind me, all the way at the opposite end, as if he had deliberately chosen to be both as close and as far away from me as possible.

His hair was long and fell over his shoulders in a thick, luxuriant wave, and his jaw was square and strong and softened only by a pair of thick, sweeping eyelashes, the kind women lament for the waste of being borne onto a male face. He was focused on the movie, sitting almost completely still, with one long leather-covered arm draped over the seat next to him, in a casual gesture of ownership that would have devastated me if it were instead draped over a companion, such was the magnitude of my instant lust for this stranger. But as it was, he was alone, just like me.

I wasn't being subtle about looking at him and presently he looked up and locked eyes with me. His were dark and glittering in the shadows of the darkened theater, and as I watched him, unable to look away, the corner of his full mouth quirked up in a sexy little smirk that made my tummy clench in a swift jolt of pleasure-pain. Holy fuck, this guy was hot. No, he was smoldering. His presence drew me like the blinding warmth of a light draws an insect. Never had I felt this kind of pull between myself and a stranger. It was like he looked straight into the very depths of my soul and saw all my secrets stripped bare.

Which was crazy, of course, but that didn't seem to matter to my insides, which were currently melting into a churning, molten lake of desire centered at the very pit of my stomach. The movie, the theater, the musty smell, they all seemed to disappear and I zeroed in on this man staring me down as I was him, never flinching from my gaze. He didn't move or speak, but his eyes called me to him, and without hesitating, I went. I don't remember getting out of my seat or walking toward him but suddenly I was in his lap, climbing him like a creature seeking heat or sustenance; mindlessly following my primal instincts.