16. Appetizer
16
Appetizer
I chose seats in the first raised row, only a few steps up.
“Front and center. Very respectable,” Victor said.
“I like to think so.” I crossed my leg towards him, inviting him to admire my freshly exposed thighs. “Do you have a preference?”
His lip twitched as he dragged his gaze from my legs. “That depends if I plan on watching the movie.”
“Oh.” I played with the stitched edge of the armrest between us. Was it presumptuous to lift it? “Does this go up?”
“Uh, yes. Allow me, Miss Silver.” He leaned closer.
The smell of alpine sage washed over me, just the faintest hint of popcorn sneaking in underneath. My eyes fluttered closed as he lifted the barrier between us. I was back in that sexy camping movie, the one where the lovers did anything for each other. Savage, passionate, and…
“Comfortable?” Victor settled in beside me on the red leather seat. He sat with an easy lightness like he wouldn’t even leave an ass-print. He was regal. Vampiric, almost. A singular slanted finger rested under his chin as he studied me through slit eyes.
My mouth watered. I smiled and slipped my hands under my legs. It was too early to touch him.
“The previews haven’t started,” I said.
He shrugged and splayed his knees. “This isn’t an official showing.”
“Right, you said this was a private showing. Just for us.” I squeezed my thighs together.
He nodded. “It’ll start soon.” His slow-blink pricked the air with electricity and stirred my insides with longing.
I grazed my toes up his shin. He smiled and widened his stance to press more firmly against me. The lights dimmed and a million candle-wick-esque lights kissed the edge of the stairs. In so many ways, it felt like we’d already started something.
What was the point in pleasantries?
I laid a hand on his knee and leaned across the seat divide. Seduce me.
The tender tips of his fingers grazed my jaw, but just as I tilted my head, a couple of human-shaped shadows slicked up through the darkness—heading straight for us.
I gasped and shot back in the chair. “I thought you said this was a private showing.”
He bolted upright and fussed with his collar. “It is. These are my minions—er, coworkers.”
They almost crashed an X-rated scene. I clutched my cross, my heartbeat thumping underneath. “I didn’t even hear them come in.”
“My apologies. I forgot to mention, the food is scheduled to arrive as soon as the lights go down.” He drummed his fingers on the far armrest and watched them with hawk-like intensity. “I’m sure we won’t have any more interruptions.”
Was that a threat to them or a promise to me? Either way, the timbre of his voice sprung goosebumps across my skin. His cohorts placed black food containers and red cups at our stations.
“Thanks,” I told them.
The one at my chair slowed to look at my breasts, his eyes wide in the dark. I crossed my arms. Yeah, I wore a dress that accentuated some cleavage, but that was for Victor. My date lowered his shoulder and leaned like some apex predator preparing to pounce. The ‘minion’ started and scurried back into the dark. Something about his jerky movements reminded me of the squirrely guy from concessions. Maybe it was him. Regardless, I let out a breath when the door clicked closed. Victor and I were alone again.
He popped open one of the containers. “May I present your dinner?”
“Dinner?” I wanted to eat him .
But then the scent of buttery, salty bread hit. Our appetizer glowed with oily temptation.
Well, shit. If we had warm pretzel bites, I guessed warm bodies could wait a few minutes.
I dipped one of the fat bread rolls into liquid cheese and took a bite.
Heaven. I moaned and licked my lips. This was indulgent, carby magnificence.
Victor stared at me, still holding out the tray.
Why was he so intense?
“Sorry, did I get some on my face?” I chuckled and covered my mouth.
“No.” His voice came out husky.
Oh, was he turned on? I squeezed the dough and briefly licked its salty skin. “Just savoring the moment?”
“Indeed.” He inhaled and rolled a pretzel into his palm. His fingers flexed as he turned his gaze to the screen.
Was he going to eat? Or was he saving room for me?
His jaw ticked. Maybe he was nervous…or miffed I’d stolen his thing by flirting via food. Guys could be so weird about stuff, like one quirk was their whole personality.
I sucked up the drink. Lemonade. Super sweet, a nice balance to the savory.
The projector glimmered with the opening shot: a harrowed moon loomed in a bleak, starless sky. Howls rang out. A nervous man whispered to his sultry mistress. “What was that?”
“They’re the creatures of the night,” she purred.
The conversation was too formal for a modern movie. Yet the camera prowled a semi-contemporary suburban block as if searching for the lovers fighting and delighting in one another.
What was this?
I tilted my head. A flash of static colored the screen like an old TV. Moans and heavy breathing brewed under the lovers’ conversation. It was a scene within a scene. Someone was watching something or had it on in the background while they got busy.
Maybe Victor was into subliminal messaging.
“What a beautiful neck,” the affected mistress voiceover purred.
Oh my god, this was a vampire movie.
I scooted forward and flexed my butt to get blood circulating. This wasn’t a recent release. The colorization skewed 80’s. But it referenced Dracula with the creatures of the night thing.
Victor’s gaze bore into the side of my face. He was waiting.
Fuck. I furrowed my brow. The title would come to me. I knew scary movies, or at least the mainstream ones. Would he try to go indie?
One of the houses in this suburban neighborhood was not like the rest. It was an overgrown, stained-glass tribute to crypt-y mansions amid cookie-cutter Americana. But the camera slipped into the open window next door. Inside, an old TV set played the black and white vampire flick. It was the only light in a dark bedroom. A couple writhed on the floor beneath it.
Talk about mood. How long until Victor and I gave this movie that treatment?
The mistress on-screen bared her fangs and prepared to feed.
An overdramatic British accent pierced the scene. “Stop, you creature of the night.”
“Oh my god,” I whispered, grinning.
A ridiculously confident man in a Victorian suit drew himself up to full height. The vampire hunter. Fake, tacky, and fabulous. Of course he’d jog my memory.
I turned to Victor. “Fright Night, OG?”
He blinked slowly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with approval. I’d gotten the reference and unraveled the mystery before opening credits could spoil it. What kind of brownie points would that get me?
I popped the rest of the pretzel into my mouth, shifting it so the steam warmed the inside of my cheek. “It’s a great movie. Not bad-good like whatever B-flick they’re watching. Or, um, not watching.” I giggled and fished another pretzel out as the main character fumbled for his girlfriend’s bra. “They’ve got their priorities.”
“Right.” Victor flexed his fingers around his pretzel bite and focused on the screen. Why was he frowning? He held his pretzel-guarding fist to his mouth without popping it inside.
The main character’s girlfriend came up for air to watch the TV, urging him to do the same. A fight ensued with Mr. Entitled Grabby-Hands, who didn’t care about horror movies when he had hypothetical boob access.
Victor ate without fanfare. No savoring.
Odd. I grazed the snack across my lips. I’d half expected him to suck the cheese off his treat. Was he trying to be polite or something?
The formerly amorous couple glared at the TV, not wanting to look at each other.
Victor wasn’t looking at me. Well, I guessed that made sense. We were watching a movie.
I rolled my shoulders.
We were fine. It was early.
The girlfriend instructed the main character to turn around so she could take off her own bra. Good for her. As the guy went to close the curtains, he noticed two men carrying a coffin towards the house next door. He snatched his binoculars—because surely a teen boy was such an avid bird-watcher—and honed in on our to-be antagonists.
He totally forgot about his girlfriend.
“You’re gonna blow it,” I warned him.
My date chuckled. The adjacent recliner buzzed and hinged open.
He stretched, exposing his long, pretty neck, then lifted his hips. His pants were snug in some nice places.
Ah, shit. I shouldn’t ogle my date. Not unless he invited it. I grabbed my cross and swung my attention to the screen. I had to stop thinking about Victor ravishing me.
The vampire was hot. Tempting, distracting. But also, sadly, no longer on screen.
Cold air closed in the more I tried not to think about the man beside me, the one now watching me. I shivered and rubbed away my goosebumps. My nipples strained against my bra. This was ridiculous. No nonfictional human guy should be able to do this to me.
The slither of clothing made my thighs clench. I snapped my attention to him, not sure if his dick would be out or his shirt would be off. But he was dressed the same.
Victor slid his arm across the back of my seat, passive and questioning. Would I let him complete the circuit and return his limb to his chair or join him in relaxation?
As if he didn’t know the answer.
I hit the recliner button to stretch out the same way as him.
The girlfriend on screen left, but I scooted over and settled in. At least I got some around-the-shoulder-action. And warmth. It seeped in from his side to mine as the cool breath of the air conditioning fanned my flaming cheeks.
His fingers danced across my sleeve as we fell into the rhythm of the story, laughing, tensing, and squeezing–him, my shoulder, and me, his fingers atop it. It was almost like holding hands. I flexed the loose connection. Almost.
But something seemed off. Unsaid.
Was it me or the drama on-screen?
I fiddled with my cross. “Is it okay if I talk during the movie?”
“It’s just the two of us.” He glanced at my mouth and blinked, his eyes glittering in the dark. “We can do anything.”
A whole world of possibility flickered in the projector lights, but with Victor’s arm around me, there was only one thing I needed. I let go of my cross and hooked my fingers around his chain. “Kiss me.”