I didn’t bother changing after work. Just kind of waited until half-way through the last public showing at the theater and drove over. My heart started hammering as soon as I saw J behind the concessions counter. Talking with a few of our coworkers. I saw a couple other coworkers filtering in for our employee showing. Just coming in in street clothes since they hadn’t worked a shift. Flowing toward our break room (read as: broom closet) or to other out-of-the-way spaces. The old projection room– never or rarely used. J sometimes had vintage screenings and ran old films here for his various film clubs or art weekends. But other than that, no one used it. So it was a secondary hang-out or a place to wait while theaters emptied if you were on cleaning duty. The back hallway that led out do the dumpsters. While there were little signs literally every foot all along the hallway that admonished NO SMOKING most of my coworkers did.
He looked even more handsome than usual. I wondered if anyone else we worked with had a crush on him. No one seemed to. Most other employees were younger than us– not by much– most of them were students at the nearby art school. But he could still be an “older man crush” for a twenty-five year old. I never saw anyone else cast eyes on him. But then, for the most part, everyone else we worked with were young men. It was very boys-club in here. Very film snob. C worked a few days a week like me, but I was pretty sure she was gay– or anyway, that’s what everyone joked about.
Customers started walking out of the last theater. Hearing the blast of credits music when one of the kids still on duty propped the doors for them. J waving and saying good evening over and over. He started delegating and directing whoever was nearby– on duty or not– to start setting up our movie.
“Get over here,” he demanded at me, curling a finger toward his chest. “Come help me close down the registers.”
“Yep,” I squeaked, and trotted over.
“You look pretty today,” C said to me. Reminded I was still in a skirt and blouse and pumps. Which of course I’d done for J.
“Thanks,” I said, flouncing playfully.
There were three registers at the concessions stand. He stood at one side, I stood at the farther one. Just like we usually did. Sort of racing each other with the tinktinktink of counting coins. Everyone else pretty much gone.
“You do look pretty today,” he said low, out of the corner of his mouth.
“And you’re gorgeous,” I said. “I want you terribly.”
“You may get me,” he said.
“Fucking tease,” I hissed.
He just chuckled. We did the cash drop. He turned off most of the lights. There was an understanding you could grab treats during these showings. But nobody needed the overheads. Just the counter lit and glowing, spot-lighting candy boxes and the like.
“Come on,” he said, tipping his head toward the theater all the way at the end– where we always had our employee showings, because it was the smallest.
We went in, everyone was sort of settling down. Hollering and throwing shit and arguing and catching up. I was heading in the direction of the seats. Getting an odd-nostalgia for high school movie dates. Hoping we’d sit side by side. Maybe one or the other of us would let a hand go into the other’s lap. But he jerked his head back toward the stage and screen. There was a little “backstage” area behind the curtains and screen. Space most generally used as a green room if someone was doing a director's commentary on a student film or for the kids who put on Rocky Horror Picture Show.
I laughed a little nervously. Thinking about the shitty floral print couch and tweed armchair back there. Wondering if I’d be fucked on the layers of thrift store rugs. But I followed him back there quite willingly.
He just turned on the one floor lamp that was back there. The room became yellow and deeply shadowed.
“Go bend over the table,” he demanded.
“I–” I began saying. Not sure what I was going to say. Swaying in my shoes.
“Tell me your safe word,” he said.
I laughed, nervousness draining away and told him.
“Now that we have that established,” he said. “Go… Bend over… The fucking table.”
I did. He came up behind me, shoving my skirt up around my hips. Whistling low and appreciatively.
“Do you always dress like this or was this for me?” he asked.
I blushed. I’d just worn a bare scrap of fabric for underwear and thigh-highs instead of my more-usual stockings.
“For you,” I sighed, wiggling my hips.
“Very nice,” he said, twitching aside my underwear.
He started touching me soft and slow. I muffled myself into my own palms. Not that I really thought anyone would hear anything. The movie had started and I heard the score easily through the pressboard “walls” of the backstage area.
I came even faster than I had that first time. Because he now so clearly knew my rhythm and what I needed. I felt a brief burst of panic over that. Thinking that someday he was going to force twenty orgasms from me and I’d drop dead. How embarrassing.
“Can I tie you to the table?” he asked.
“Okay,” I panted. “But block the door please. I don’t think I’d want anyone to walk in on us… I mean, I guess I wouldn’t mind but I wouldn’t want to ruin their night.”
He laughed, shuffling around. I felt him using the industrial zip ties we used to do repairs and hang posters on my ankles. Coming around to the front and doing my wrists. Spread-eagle across the tabletop. He went back behind me, starting to coax another orgasm from me. I moaned.
“You’ll want to be quieter than that,” he teased. “Everyone will hear you.”
I realized I’d put myself in a precarious position. At least when I’d had my hands free I could cover my own mouth. But I liked giving in to him, and I really liked the idea of being restrained. Forced to submit to his too-many-orgasms play. And especially of being tied down and taking his dick– which is what I was still hoping for. I just hadn’t considered how I’d keep myself quiet. I bit my bottom lip hard.
Of course I couldn't help it. I was noisy on the second one. But he didn’t stop touching me.
“Oh please,” I said. “Can’t you just fuck me?”
“Is that what you want?” he asked. “To be fucked?”
“Yes!” I said.
“Hey,” he said quietly, musingly. “Do you hear anything?”
I held my breath, biting my lip again, trying to shy away from his fingers. I didn’t hear anything. Trying to listen for a rattling door knob or anything else. Then I realized what he meant. I didn’t hear anything. I didn’t hear the movie playing any more.
“But they heard you,” he said. “They heard you wanted to be fucked. They heard you coming. I bet they even heard your come pattering on the floor. And what else are they supposed to think but that you’re a little free-use beauty? Who needs a good, hard, deep dicking?”
I gasped, throwing my head over my shoulder, trying to look toward the backstage door. A bunch of our coworkers were standing back there. I blew my hair out of my eyes, trying to figure out who and how many. Flushing viciously and moaning when I realized they’d probably at least seen my last orgasm. And definitely heard me begging to be fucked. Made worse when I realized I could see several erections through several pairs of pants.
Worse still, I could see R gently stroking himself through the pocket of his basketball shorts. He was a nice kid– playing for his third year on the university football team. Massive. He was often cajoled into playing Rocky for the midnight showings. He was neither terribly bright nor a good actor but he was physically huge and had a sense of galumphing, goonish fun the more theater-y kids liked.
“You can say your safeword,” J said. “Or you can let them give you what you need. They heard you begging for it, after all.”
“Okay,” I panted.
I heard as a crowd the group move forward, closer to me. I startled, hearing the legs of the table scraping on the floor.
“This is a safe workplace,” J suddenly announced. “We’re all about workplace safety here, so that means condoms!”
I heard him slap something on the table beside my waist. Glancing back I saw a massive box of condoms and groaned.
“I’d like to think she’s going to have so many cocks in her she’ll lose track,” he added. “So what we’re going to do, so that she can’t forget this magical evening– when we finish, we take off the condom and just tuck it into these pretty little thigh-highs.”
He reached over, snapping the elastic on my thigh and making me squeal.
“Well,” he said, sounding impatient. “Line up then.”
I heard a sort of rough-house shuffling behind me. Tossing my head again, trying to watch. Unsurprised R had fought his way to the head. He already had his shorts snapped down, just letting his erection bounce out over the elastic. I listened to him tear open the box beside me.
“I have always wanted to fuck you,” he groaned.
He was inside me in less than a second. Rough and huge and punishingly deep. I was wet and ready for him but unused to his jackhammering, or the kind of weight he could put behind it. He was at least 150 pounds heavier than me. Luckily he finished quite quickly though. Between pregaming and his age, it took him only a few strokes. He grunted roughly as he did, pounding into my backside hard enough to bruise. He withdrew and I sighed in relief. Then I felt that first condom. Heavy, hot and sticky even through the silk of the stocking. He just tucked the end right over he top of the elastic. The product of him fucking me making it hang low and limp against my leg.
Even as I was groaning over that sensation I already felt a pair of hands on my hips. Drawing me onto another cock. Whoever it was was gentler, slower and smaller and therefore more comfortable. I moaned, raising my hips for them. Still quick. I tried glancing over my shoulder. Just kind of catching a strobing line of our co workers lined up, some of them also stroking themselves. Half-hard or fully hard, precum shining in the low light of the floor lamp. My back was the most illuminated thing.
He finished and I didn’t even get a full breath before he was shoved aside and the next cock was very instantly buried in me. I kind of went limp. Realizing I’d have to relax. That this was going to take awhile. While I was getting fucked I felt clumsy fingers on my thigh. Sighing and bracing myself to feel that second jellied balloon against me. After five I went a bit insensible.
“Give me a break,” I said, almost frustrated. “Somebody come use my mouth.”
I heard J chuckling beside me. I didn’t know he was so close by. I didn’t know he was watching so carefully. And unfortunately, the idea of him overseeing all this made me have a little almost-nothing orgasm. Like this was all one big performance for him. As that was happening someone’s fist was around my ponytail. Lifting my chin up. Gently bouncing the head of their cock off my bottom lip. I sighed and took it in. Easily, straightening my neck to take it. Once again pleased with how quickly whoever it was finished. Gasping and feeling like I’d swallowed something wrong though in my sinus. I took one more in my mouth. Feeling the switch behind me. When whoever was at my front finished I turned my head to the side. From where I’d heard J. Caught a glimpse of his dark jeans.
“J,” I said. He knelt instantly beside me. “I ache.”
“I’m sure you do,” he said. Patting my cheek. Suddenly from the opposite side I felt a cock bouncing against my jaw.
“Slow down, fuckwad,” J directed at whoever was bopping me in the face. “I’m having a conference here. Wait your goddamn turn. She was kind enough to give you access, slow your fucking charge.”
“I just need to be turned over,” I said to him.
He laughed, and patted my cheek. I turned toward the impatient cock. Taking that quickly. When whoever was between my legs finished he stopped whoever was going to step forward. Feeling that condom being snapped into the elastic again. Stirring heavily and knocking into another one. I sucked whoever was in my mouth viciously, willing him to finish. My back hurt, and my hip bones were bruised from being continually crushed into the edge of the table. I just wanted to lay on my back, just for a while.
I felt the zip ties being cut. Guessing it was the utility blade J always kept in his back pocket. He sliced up the back of my skirt and shirt as well. Letting them fall sweaty and ruined to the floor. I was getting shakily to my feet when many hands grabbed me. Helping to turn me over, letting me get comfortable on my back. I groaned, feeling a little pop and release of tension in my lower back. But nothing stopped. Someone instantly between my legs, thumbs pressing into my inner thighs, lifting my legs up and spreading them wide.
Someone came around to my face. I opened my mouth. But instead I felt rather gentle fingers on my nipples. Just coaxing them up toward the ceiling. I moaned into it, lifting my chest. Whoever it was knelt beside me.
“Are you gay?”
I realized it was C.
I shook my head, still chasing her fingers.
“No,” I panted. “But are you?”
I didn’t know I’d still manage to be curious while being fucked, but I was.
“I’m bisexual,” she whispered, right into my ear. “I know you can’t see, but it’s L who’s coming up next. I actually think he’s hot. But he doesn’t want to fuck me. But maybe you can get me off while you’re getting him off and that’ll be fun, too.”
“Okay,” I said, trying to turn to face her. One hand left my right breast, pushing my face away from hers. She didn’t want me looking directly at her. That was fine. I didn’t really want to look at anyone else.
“You just might have to give me direction,” I said.
“You’ve never been with a girl before?” she asked, sounding both astounded and scornful.
“Not a girl or a woman,” I said, not particularly ashamed about it.
She stood up, and I heard her zipper whirring down. She straddled my face, and began stroking my nipples again. I raised my chin further into her, lapping experimentally. Not bad. Velvety, certainly better smelling and tasting than most of these boys.
She pinched both my nipples ferociously.
“Soft, tight circles, you dumb straight bitch,” she said.
“Hey!” I heard J say, slapping his hand down on the table beside me. “Language, for fuck’s sake.”
I dropped my head down a little bit, a few inches from her, still cradled between her thighs.
“No,” I said, still tasting her, trying to see him. “It’s okay, I’m a dumb bitch.”
“Dumb straight bitch,” C said, but almost tenderly.
I tried to follow directions. I felt her hand between my legs. Her index finger unerringly hooking under the hood of my clit, making me squeal against her.
“Like this,” she said, sounding impatient. I moaned against her, trying to exactly mimic the motions she was doing. And she clamped her thighs around my face. I would have smiled if I could but instead was just triumphant. Whoever had been between my legs finished. Panting and kneeling, I could feel his hot, heavy breath on my knee as he tucked in the condom.
So next was L, I thought, going to work harder on C. I’d be rather proud of myself if I could get them both off together.
When he entered me I grunted, and apparently paused my licking for too long. She pinched my clit between her fingers, holding for a full three seconds. I felt my flesh bloom up against her fingertips. Squealing and feeling tears in my eyes I went back to work.
“Fuck,” L groaned. “Do that again. Felt like she was trying to milk the cum out of me.”
She did, but giving me a brief, gentle rub first. Warning me it was coming this time. So I breathed through it, not as shocked. Still, I felt my tears and sweat slipping down the insides of her thighs.
Her hand suddenly left my clit and I mewled. She pinched my nipples and I went back to work. Digging her fingers into my breasts I felt her coming on my chin. Maybe only a few seconds afterward I felt that thump and pump from L that meant he had too.
I gasped as they finished. Feeling cool air touching my cheeks again. Crying out when I felt L’s condom knocking against the other ones.
“Almost done,” J cooed down at me. “You’re almost done. You’re doing so good.”
I kind of slipped out for a while.
And then I noticed I was breathing unencumbered. No one was using my mouth. Hesitantly I closed my knees. No one was between my legs.
“There she is,” J said, wiping sweat from my brow with the palm of his hand. “I was wondering when you were going to realize you were done.”
“Oh,” I gasped, looking around. We seemed to be alone again. I tried to sit up. He helped me, a hand on my shoulder, another holding my hand, helping me sit up. I was coated in sweat– literally dripping. I stunk, my hair was clinging wetly to my neck once I was upright.
“You’re probably the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, swiping a thumb under my lower lip. It felt hugely swollen. The edges of my mouth cracked.
“How many cocks did you have in you tonight?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, shivering. It felt like an army.
“Let’s figure it out,” he said. Dragging a stool between my legs he held up the little aluminum garbage pail that was kept back here.
“Pull out those condoms,” he directed, sitting down on the stool between my legs, close to me. “And count them off.”
“J,” I begged.
“Do you want to drive home with those still in your stockings?” he asked.
I shook my head.
Reaching into the elastic I took out one of the condoms. Very clammy, whatever lube had been on it becoming clumpy and cool.
“Tie it off,” he said.
I moaned, did so, and dropped it in the pail.
“One,” he said leadingly.
“One,” I sighed.
Then the next. Tie, drop, “two.” Tie, drop, “three.” By seven I was moaning each one. And when I finally finished with twenty-three I fell back onto the table.
“And that’s not even all the good work you did with your tongue,” he said, petting my leg.
I groaned over that too. He suddenly scooped me off the table, into his arms, newly-wed style. I struggled a little, a hand on his chest.
“Stop,” he said, but gently. “You can’t walk, woman.”
I settled into his arms. And we weren’t going far. Just to the chintzy little couch. He fell back into it, keeping me in his lap.
“Did you come while you were on that table?” he asked softly, nose in my hair.
“I’m filthy,” I murmured.
I was, I smelt like the worst workout after an unhealthy dinner. My makeup was melted, most of my hair had escaped the elastic it was in and was sticking to my cheeks and neck. Everything about me felt stretched and slack, swollen and ruined.
“I don’t care,” he said quietly. “To me you’re wonderful right now. But answer the goddamn question.”
“Almost,” I said, settling further into him. “One half of one, early on. And C almost got one out of me.”
“Poor baby,” he said softly, right into my ear, bottom lip on the lobe of my ear. “What do you need?”
“You,” I answered. “You make me come.”
His hand dropped between my legs. I whined weakly, trying to close my knees.
“Oh come on,” he cajoled. “You did four yesterday. And today would only be three. Excuse me, three and a half,” he added mockingly.
I let him, legs dropping back open, sinking into his chest.
“Good girl,” he said, back against my ear. “Now it’s just you and me. You don’t have to do anything. You just have to let it happen. And it will happen. We’re all alone and I’m going to be so happy when you give it to me. Right on my hand like the good little girl you are.”
And I did. Shockingly easy, like orgasming in my sleep. Gentler than any other he’d taken from me. We just sat together for a while, sticky and catching our breaths. I glanced over at the table I’d been ruined on. Seeing my shredded clothes. I started crying a little, but mostly just because I was tired. I wasn’t particularly upset, just exhausted and didn’t know what to do next.
He started kissing me, wiping tears off my face with both hands.
“I’m okay,” I said. “I’m just tired and I don’t know how I’m going to get home.” I gestured toward my pile of clothes.
He laughed.
“Oh,” he said, sounding a little relieved, or like he could easily fix this problem.
“Well, number one I know I have a brand-new triple x tee back in the supply closet. You can at least toss that on to get home,” he said, still embracing me. “And number two… Maybe I can go home with you tonight? Take care of you? Help you get cleaned up and make you some dinner?”
“Mhmm,” I said, absurdly touched and not knowing how to convey that.
“Okay, good,” he said, detangling himself for me. Holding his palm down and out in a ‘stay’ position.
He returned in a few minutes with the promised STAFF shirt. And it fit the bill– sleeves falling nearly to my elbows, the hem just a few inches above my knee.
“Need me to carry you out?” he asked.
I laughed, still tired, a little tearful.
“No, I’m okay,” I said.
He did a quick clean up. Tossing out my ruined clothes, the cut zip ties. Knotting up the trash bag and bringing it out with us. I felt a little silly in a tee-shirt dress and heels, but that was all right. He offered to drive us, but I knew I could do that too. But he followed me home.
And he did take care of me. Ran me a bath. Even helped wash my hair– pouring warm water down my back, shielding my eyes with his palm. Making me an easy midnight snack. After we finished eating I watched him reach for his shoes. Stopped him and asked him to stay with me. He nodded, and did that too.