A barely audible whimper escaped my throat and I didn’t have to wonder if Nathan heard it. He sucked my cock faster, stroked harder, sent me higher, higher, higher…
My hand hit the brick wall beside me just as my back arched away from it. I wasn’t afraid of crying out, not when this powerful orgasm rendered breathing impossible. It was only when it tapered, bringing me back to Earth one heartbeat at a time, that I finally managed a whispered, “Oh, God…”
Nathan stood and kissed me. I grasped his shirt, the back of his neck, his hair, anything I could get my hands on as long as it got me closer to him. The taste of myself on his tongue intoxicated me, but it wasn’t enough. I needed to taste him.
With one hand still in his hair, my other drifted down to his shoulder, then his side until I found his belt. He shivered as I followed his belt to the buckle, but then his body tensed and he grabbed my wrist, holding it gently, but just firmly enough to keep my hand away from his zipper. “I think,” he said, pausing to kiss me, “that you overestimate my ability to stay quiet.”
“And you…” I kissed him and tried to free my wrist from his grasp, “overestimate my ability to leave here without making you come.”
His lips parted. Even in the low light, I could make out the look of disbelief in his eyes.
He released my wrist.
Chapter Twenty
Dylan and I leaned against the box office, watching one mob of customers exit Auditorium Three while another funneled into Two. We’d had a problem with theatre hoppers recently and were determined to bust them.
“This is why we shouldn’t schedule them so fucking close together,” Dylan grumbled.
“If we add any more time between them, we’ll have to reduce showings.” I watched a couple of teenagers come out of the auditorium. They paused, eyes darting back and forth as they talked behind their hands.
One of them looked right at me, and I swore he blanched. I raised one eyebrow, and the kid elbowed his friend, then half-dragged him toward the exit. I watched them until they were gone, trying not to laugh when the kid shot me a nervous glance just before they disappeared outside. That’s right, you little bastards. I’m onto you.
“Zach, are you listening to me?”
I turned to Dylan. “Sorry, I was giving some kids the evil eye. What’s up?”
He gave a sharp, impatient huff. “What I was saying,” he said, “was that we might want to consider staggering showings by fifteen or twenty more minutes.”
“We’ve been over this,” I said. “That adds up. We’ll end up cutting showings and having employees on the clock longer for the fewer showings. I’d rather lose a few dollars to these little shits than increase payroll and lose showings.”
“Okay, fair enough, but-” Dylan suddenly stiffened. “Hoppers.”
I craned my neck. “Where?”
“Kid in the red T-shirt and the one in the Yankees cap,” he said. “Just came out of Three and are going into Two.”
“All yours,” I said.
“Thieving little bastards,” he muttered, and shouldered his way into the sea of people to throw the theatre hoppers out. I cursed under my breath and shook my head. We didn’t exactly show films that appealed to high school students, so I wondered if they just did this to get their kicks. I could certainly think of more entertaining things to do than sitting through a two-hour foreign film just for the thirty-second thrill of sneaking into another two-hour foreign film for free, but what did I know?
Either that or they just liked indulging in the somewhat less stringent restrictions on full-frontal nudity and sexual content in films from other countries. That thought made me chuckle to myself. I couldn’t blame them entirely. Some of those scenes were well worth sitting through two hours of subtitles.
Shaking my head, I started toward the office to finish some paperwork so I could leave on time and meet Nathan.
“Hey, boss,” a voice behind me said.
I turned around to see Max striding toward me. The door to the projector-room stairwell banged shut behind him and I barely kept myself from groaning. No, no, don’t say it. Don’t. Not today. Please-
He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “Projector’s down again.”
“Fuck,” I muttered. He didn’t need to explain any further. Without a word-aside from the long, colorful tirade in my mind-I followed him upstairs. Fortunately, there were no more showings in Auditorium One that day, but it still needed to be fixed. We’d be relying heavily on it the next day. And my blood pressure so needs this today.
Before I went to work on it, I glanced at the clock above the window. It was almost five. I was supposed to meet Nathan at seven, so I had plenty of time.
By five thirty, the damned thing still wasn’t working.
Around five forty-five, I found a component that was as defective as it was antiquated. Since the Stone and Bronze Ages were long since over, the parts were discontinued, so I hoped to God that someone in the area had a few spares lying around. It took a half hour of calling around to other theatres in the area, but a buddy of mine on the other side of town used the same kind of projector and had a pretty good cache of parts. I sent Dean across town to get the parts.
So much for meeting Nathan on time. I scowled and speed-dialed him.
“Hey, what’s up?” he said.
“I have to bail tonight,” I said, glaring at the piece-of-shit machine that was going to be replaced soon if I had to pay for the new one in blood. “I’ve got a projector down and there’s no way I can leave until it’s running again.”
He was quiet for a second, then said, “Any idea how late you’ll be there?”
“Not a clue.” I rubbed my eyes. “I’m waiting on some parts, and God only knows if it’ll be enough to get it working before the next millennium.”
The silence lingered a moment longer this time. “Well, if you still want to come by, give me a call when you’re done.” He paused. “I’ll be up late, so, whenever.”
“I’ll call you when this thing is fixed or thrown out the window, whichever comes first.”
“Talk to you then.” He didn’t sound amused, but I couldn’t blame him. I’d just thrown a wrench in his plans for the evening.
I’ll make it up to you, Nathan, I promise, I thought after we’d hung up.
Almost two hours after Dean left, he finally came meandering in with the parts-and some fast food.
“Sorry, boss,” he said. “Got stuck in traffic.”
“At the drive-through?” I growled.
He looked a little sheepish, but not nearly repentant enough to satisfy me. Still, I didn’t have time to deal with it tonight.
“Go eat,” I snapped. “Then I need you and Max both in the projector room.” I held up the bag of parts. “If these don’t do the trick, we’re going to have to move the projector, and I need the two of you to help me.”
“Will do.”
The parts, unfortunately, did not do the trick.
“Max, go find Dean,” I said. “We’re switching One and Two.”
“But what about all the showings in Two tomorrow?”
I glared at him. “Dylan and I can figure that out. Go. Get. Dean.” He did as I asked and hurried out of the room as I unfastened the bolts on the base of the projector.
With three people, switching the projectors didn’t take too long. We tested the working machine and made sure the film was in focus on the screen, then bolted both projectors in place.
And we were done.
Finally.
I let out a breath. Tomorrow would be spent trying to get the projector back up and running, but disaster was averted for the time being. The main auditorium had a functioning projector. The showings in the smaller auditoriums could be bumped around if needed. We’d manage.