After the hall

I sat in an empty hall seat with the black dress rumpled and my heels off on the carpet. The score was closed on the next seat. I did not open it. Thomas stood in the aisle with his tie loose, waiting, because I had told him to wait. He is the man I date. Serve me here, I had said in the car. He had said please, and he had looked relieved to be given a direction instead of a riddle.

Kneel. Take my feet. He knelt and rubbed where the shoes had bitten, thumbs steady, no show. I let my head rest. Higher, the calves, then stop. He stopped on the dot. I like a man who can hear a period at the end of a sentence. I drew him up between my knees, there in the row, and opened the dress. Your mouth on my cunt. Slow enough that I can still talk. He licked my clit while I kept a hand in his hair and told him left, softer, stay there, now a finger in my cunt if your hand is clean. It was. He worked that finger in my cunt and sucked my clit, and I came with a bare foot braced on the seat frame, swallowing the sound so the hall would not have it.

I kept him kneeling while I found my breath. Then I told him to stand so I could take his cock in my hand. I fucked my fist along him and watched his face. You do not cum until I say. He nodded, already close, doing the work of holding back because he likes the work. I talked him down and back up. I like your mouth on my cunt. I like that you waited in the aisle like I asked. When I said now, he came into the handkerchief I had ready, shaking, forehead tipped to mine. He did not get to fuck me. My hand was the whole finish, and he took it.

I wiped him gently and put the cloth away. I asked him to slide the heels back to me and not to put them on. He set them in my lap like something entrusted. We sat in the two seats, the score still closed, his hand in mine, ordinary. Thank you for leading, he said. Thank you for asking, I said. We left by the side door.