“I’ll be right back,” she whispers and hurries away as quietly as I try awkwardly to tuck my cock back into my jeans. Vaguely I think to myself I should probably go clean myself up, too, but I can still smell Janie’s pussy on my fingers, and I’m not ready to end this crazy moment yet. My heart’s still hammering in my chest but at least it’s starting to slow now that the girl’s gone. I start coming to my senses as reality starts flooding back in. The explosive car-chase on the screen has come to an end and a much quieter scene is now taking place – our timing has been impeccable.
What the hell just happened? Clearly, I followed Cole’s advice a little too literally. Did I really just fuck a girl in a movie theater, with my cousin only a few seats down? I grimace as I think of what our grandparents would say. Sheesh. Good thing they’re dead because this was wrong on so many levels. And yet, I don’t regret it at all. Because it’s not just about Janie’s incredible body, but it’s about her soul as well. There’s something about this girl that had me gushing my feelings to her within minutes of meeting. And that’s something that terrifies me.
Suddenly, I’m overcome with a terrible anxiety out of nowhere. The firing of a machine-gun on screen has my heart racing, sweat pouring down my face. Confused, I look around the movie theater – but what I’m seeing isn’t the seats and other people, but the shelled-out bunker I’d been in only five weeks ago.
I start hyperventilating, the explosions around me no longer the ones from the movie, but those that killed six soldiers that day. I’d been the sole survivor, lying flat in the dust, waiting for the firing to stop. Unable to move for what felt like hours, I couldn’t afford to give away the fact that the enemy had missed one of us, or I’d be done for. And unfortunately, I had to hold that position until nightfall, muscles burning with the effort until finally, I was able to run out and stumble back to base, retching and heaving the entire way.
And now I’m stumbling out of the movie theater in much the same way. My chest heaves as I clutch at my t-shirt, sweat pouring down my face and drenching the cotton under my leather jacket. I fall to my knees just as Janie comes out of the bathroom. She rushes over, dropping to her knees in at my side.
“Brent!” she whispers urgently. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?” She places her small hands on the side of my face and lifts it up so I’m looking into her caramel eyes, flooded with worry.
“Brent?” she whispers again. No one’s in the lobby, thank god, because this is quite a scene I’m causing: I’ve come back to my senses enough to know that. But I still can’t speak. Shaking my head, I fall over into Janie’s lap, sobbing. She doesn’t laugh, she doesn’t call for help, she doesn’t move except for to fold her arms around me, smoothing my hair while rocking me back and forth.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I’ve got you,” she whispers to me. “You’re going to be fine.”
And even through the shudders that shake my spine, I know that Janie’s right. In the arms of this woman, I’ll come out healed, loved …. and made whole once more.
All night I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, mesmerized by the events of the last few hours. Did that really happen? I’d thought I was doing Netflix and cheesecake in my PJs. But instead, I went on a gorgeous date with a stranger, and had sex with him in the movie theater, that hot cock making me shiver and squeal so loud. But it was more than some hot fling. Because the night finished with me cradling the man in my arms as he inexplicably sobbed on his knees in the lobby. It was all too crazy to comprehend!
I turned over for the millionth time, wondering about the mystery of this beautiful, tortured guy. From the moment I met him, I’d known Brent was special, but I couldn’t have known at that moment what I’d been getting into. He’s an enigma. Or maybe not? A man who’s spent years abroad, at war, shooting enemies and getting shot at, likely watching his friends die. Was it any wonder he was so volatile in his emotions? Sexually and emotionally? After all, our blind date had been his first time out in the “real world” since he’d gotten back a mere five days ago.
But it felt natural to comfort the solider as he cried. It felt right that I should be the one he could let it out with. But after he’d calmed down a bit, and come to his senses, he’d stumbled up awkwardly. He refused to answer my concerned questions, instead avoiding eye contact before leaving me on my knees in the lobby.