Three Strangers and a Seat in the Back Row of the Cinema

Marcos had learned to read glances in the half-light of theater lobbies. He would stand at the entrance of downtown cinemas, pretending to check his phone or wait for someone who would never arrive, and let chance do its part. A signal, a gesture that lasted too long, a smile that lingered a little more than it should have: that was enough for him. Whoever wanted him paid for the ticket and, once inside the auditorium, he took care of the rest.

That night, three women arrived before the last screening. They came laughing about something they had said to each other in the street, with that slightly clumsy euphoria of people who had started drinking early. One of them wore a sash across her dress. Bachelorette party, Marcos guessed without effort.

The one with the sash was called Lorena. She was a brunette, with her hair gathered into thin braids, of medium height, in a short skirt and light blouse. Beside her was Eva, tall, blonde, packed into a long red dress that traced every line of her body. The third, Patricia, was shorter and fuller-figured, in tight jeans and with a laugh you could hear half a block away before you saw her.

The three of them noticed him almost at once. Marcos felt it: the up-and-down appraisal, the nudge between them, the whispered chatter. He was wearing a light gray suit and a shirt open at the neck, no tie. He knew the effect he had, and so he held their gaze a second longer than necessary.

Lorena broke away from the group and came over.

—Are you waiting for someone? —she asked, chin slightly raised.

—For you girls, apparently —he replied.

—Well then, the waiting’s over —Patricia cut in, being the boldest of the three—. Come in with us. We’ve got plans.

They paid for his ticket without asking the price. Marcos followed them to the back row, the one tucked into the corner against the wall, where the screen was far away and the darkness almost complete. They chose that area with the easy assurance of people who had already thought it through.

While the lights were still on, they introduced themselves in whispers. Marcos didn’t pretend to be anything other than what he was: he told them what he did and under what conditions he worked. He wasn’t surprised when Patricia nodded.

—I knew about you —she said—. A friend passed me your profile months ago. Today seemed like the perfect day to check whether the reviews were lying.

—They never lie —Marcos answered.

—That’s for us to decide —Eva cut in, never losing her smile.

The three women laughed, and at that moment the room went dark. The trailers started, far too loud, and the screen bathed the row in a bluish flicker. Lorena, the guest of honor, leaned toward his ear.

—The film lasts two hours —she told him softly—. I don’t want to see your face until it’s over. You’re going to eat my pussy until I forget what my own name is. Start with me.

***

Marcos slid down to the floor, into the narrow gap between the seats. The space was awkward, his knees against the cold concrete, but discomfort was part of the game and by now he no longer felt it. He settled himself in front of Lorena, whose short skirt made the path easier.

He lifted the fabric to her waist slowly, with the calm of someone who knows that haste ruins everything. He rested his hands on her thighs and waited a second, just one second, until he felt her part her legs on her own. Underneath, she was wearing black lace panties, already soaked, the fabric clinging to the lips of her pussy so tightly that the whole fold was outlined. Marcos hooked the elastic with two fingers and pulled them down to her knees.

The scent hit him at once, dense, warm, that smell of a hot woman that got his cock hard in seconds. He leaned in and blew, just a thread of air, and watched Lorena’s pussy contract like a hungry little mouth. He brushed the inner sides of her thighs with his lips, not touching where she really wanted yet, letting anticipation do the preliminary work. Lorena held her breath. Her fingers searched for the back of the seat and clung to it.

When he finally licked where it mattered, he did it only lightly, grazing, measuring every reaction. A long, flat lick, from the entrance of the pussy to the clitoris, tasting the thick fluid already running down her lips. He repeated the motion again and again, as if drinking her, while Lorena threw her head back and pressed the nape of her neck against the seat. Then he increased the pressure: he spread her outer lips with his thumbs, left her pussy fully exposed, and focused on the clitoris with the tip of his tongue, drawing quick circles, alternating with short sucks that sent a jolt through her thighs.

—Like that —she whispered, more to herself than to him—. Just like that, don’t stop. Put it in me, put it inside me, fuck.

Marcos drove his whole tongue deep into her pussy, as far as he could, fucking her with his mouth while he pressed her clit with his nose. He took his tongue in and out, curled it, sucked, and felt Lorena begin to move her hips against his face, wanting more. He added two fingers, slid them in to the knuckle, and curved the tips against that spongy spot inside, without stopping sucking her clitoris. He felt her swell, closing around his fingers like a fist.

—I’m coming, I’m coming —she gasped, and he didn’t have time to say anything else.

Lorena seized his head with one hand, crushed it against her pussy, and bit the back of her other hand to keep from screaming. The blast of the soundtrack covered any sound that escaped her. Her pussy gushed over Marcos’s tongue in waves, a hot flow he swallowed without pulling away, taking her hip thrusts as she came with his tongue. She trembled for quite a while, and when she let him go, she did it with an almost grateful stroke to the nape of his neck.

—Jesus —she panted—. The girls didn’t believe me when I said I wanted this. They’d better start learning.

***

Patricia was next. With jeans that tight, Marcos had to work a little to make his way in, and she laughed softly at his effort, amused to see him working. He unbuttoned them, pulled down the zipper with his teeth, and tugged the fabric until it was bunched around her ankles. Underneath, she wasn’t wearing anything. When he finally got them off, he wasted no time.

Patricia had a meaty pussy, with thick lips, already shining with desire, and a trimmed dark patch of hair. She spread it open with her fingers and showed it to Marcos like someone presenting a dish. Patricia was direct, without Lorena’s shyness. She set the pace with her hips, told him with half-words what she wanted, and Marcos followed without arguing. He had been at this long enough to know that every woman is a different language, and Patricia liked feeling in charge.

—Slower —she ordered him—. Make it last. The night is long. Lick me properly, don’t rush.

He obeyed. He ran his tongue over her whole vulva with an almost cruel slowness, lingering in every fold, sucking her lips one by one as if they were fruit. Every so often he circled her clit with his tongue, very gently, and went back down to the entrance of her pussy, pushing only the tip in, never quite entering. Patricia writhed in the seat, pressed her thighs against Marcos’s ears, opened them again, and every time he came near her clit she let out a thick, guttural groan that rose from her chest.

—Your fingers —she asked after a while—. Fuck me with your fingers while you eat me.

Marcos pushed three in at once. Patricia’s pussy was so wet it swallowed them whole, and he began pumping them in and out fast, with a wet smack the film itself covered just in time. With his other hand he moistened his thumb in her juices and pressed it, very slowly, against her asshole. Patricia growled.

—That, that too, you motherfucker —she muttered—, put it in there, put it in.

The thumb went in halfway, and Patricia opened under the double contact like a flower. Marcos adjusted the rhythm: fingers in and out of her pussy, thumb held still in her ass, tongue gone mad against her clit. He slowed it down until it became almost unbearable, until she dug her nails into his shoulder begging for the opposite. Then he clenched, sped everything up at once, and Patricia had to cover her mouth with her forearm so her pleasure wouldn’t reach the rows in front of them.

She came with a long shudder, biting her lips, tightening around Marcos’s fingers with a rhythm that left his hand almost numb. Her pussy soaked his wrist, his chin, the collar of his shirt. It took her a while to recover. When she did, she brought her mouth close to his ear.

—The reviews were underselling it —she admitted—. Now fix up that one over there, she’s been staring at us with envy for a while.

***

Eva had spoken the least and was the most impatient of all. Her long, fitted red dress was the real obstacle of the night: there was no way to lift it without risking a tear. He gathered it up as best he could, fold by fold, until her lap was free.

Eva’s body looked like it had been lifted from a magazine. Narrow waist, endless legs, an elegance she didn’t lose even in the dimness of a neighborhood cinema. She wasn’t wearing panties under the dress: she had taken them off halfway through the screening, without saying anything, with a discretion that nearly made Marcos laugh out loud. Eva’s pussy was completely shaved, pink, so wet it shone between her legs as if she had just come out of the water. She had been waiting her turn for quite some time, watching her two friends fall apart one after another, and that waiting had pushed her to the edge before Marcos even touched her.

—You don’t need to try so hard —she murmured—. I’ve been ready since we came in. Lick me a little and I’ll come. I swear.

—All the more reason to take my time —he replied.

And he did. He started by kissing the insides of her thighs, leaving red marks with his lips, biting the thin skin of her groin until she let out a hoarse moan. He blew over her swollen clit, brushed it just barely with the tip of his nose, and Eva was already giving a full-body spasm from that alone. Marcos prolonged the agony. He ran his tongue over her very slowly, up and down, stopping just before the clit, looking up at her from below with his face pressed to her pussy, and waiting for her to beg.

—Eat me properly, you motherfucker, don’t make me beg —Eva panted at last, her voice broken.

Then, yes. Marcos closed his lips around her clit and sucked hard, with firm pulls, as if he wanted to tear it off. He drove two fingers into her pussy and began to search for the spot inside with his fingertip, pressing and releasing in time with his tongue. He worked her with a mix of patience and firmness, alternating calm with sudden bursts of intensity that made her hold back a cry. Eva clung to the armrests of the two neighboring seats, one hand on each, and threw her head back.

—My husband hasn’t come near me in weeks —she confessed between gasps—. He doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t fuck me. I’d forgotten what this was like.

—Then remember it well —Marcos said, before going back to his work.

He licked her, sucked her, ate her without pause. Eva’s pussy began to tremble in his mouth sooner than expected, much sooner, with a quick, furious contraction that filled his tongue with her release. Eva reached the end with a scream the film swallowed just in time, in a scene of explosions. She came so hard that it dripped down Marcos’s chin and onto his neck, and even so she kept his head pressed against her pussy for another ten seconds, until the last waves faded away. She was left spent, melted into the seat, laughing to herself at her own breathlessness.

***

The film still hadn’t ended, so there was a second round. Marcos ran through the three of them again, this time more slowly, without the urgency of the first turn, letting them give themselves over however they liked. By then he knew each woman’s language, and they, freed from their initial shyness, let themselves go without pretense. They touched one another, groped each other’s tits beneath their clothes, put their hands into one another’s pussies while Marcos passed his mouth from one to the next.

He started again with Lorena. This time he tore off her panties in one pull, stuffed them into her own mouth so she wouldn’t scream, and drove his tongue in so deep that Lorena had to spread her legs fully, planting one foot on the back of the seat in front. Patricia grabbed one breast beneath her blouse, kneaded it, twisted the nipple between her fingers. Lorena came a second time with Patricia’s hand laced with hers and Eva’s hand palming her pussy over her pubis, pushing Marcos’s tongue even deeper.

Eva needed only a few minutes. She was so sensitized from the first round that she came in Marcos’s mouth almost at once, with a long, silent shudder, biting her fist.

Patricia, the most demanding, was also the one who took the longest. She asked for everything: the tongue, the fingers, the thumb in her ass again, and in the end she sat on the edge of the seat, spread the lips of her pussy open with both hands, and told Marcos in his ear not to stop until she pulled his hair. He held out. He sucked her clit steadily while he fucked her pussy with three fingers and kept his thumb inside her asshole, and Patricia reached the end with a rough pant and a grin from ear to ear that could be sensed even in the dark.

When the credits began to roll up the screen and the first courtesy lights came on, the three women had already straightened their clothes and were combing their hair with their fingers as if nothing had happened. Marcos pushed himself up from the floor with numb legs, his mouth burning, his chin shining with other people’s juices that he wiped away with a handkerchief, and finally sat down in his seat, exhausted in a way he rarely was. His cock was so hard inside his pants it hurt, but that wasn’t part of the deal, and he had already learned how to take care of that at home.

—Here —Lorena said, sliding an envelope into the pocket of his suit—. And a tip. You earned it.

—We’ll call you again —Patricia added—. And next time, somewhere with more space. With a bed. And with your cock inside, not just your tongue.

Eva said nothing. She only gave him one last look, the same one she had given him at the entrance, and left the theater with her elegance intact.

***

Marcos stayed a few more minutes in the seat, letting the auditorium empty. Not every job felt quite so much like a good story to tell, he thought. His lips burned from all the contact, his knees were marked, and the next day he would be facing a sore jaw that would take a while to forget the effort.

But when he stepped out into the street, with the fresh air of dawn and the envelope heavy in his pocket, he couldn’t help smiling. Three strangers, a bachelorette party, and the back row of a cinema. Of all the strange nights his trade had given him, this one went straight to first place. And something told him that, just as they had promised, it wouldn’t be the last.