She grabbed my hand while the first victim was being stalked. She shrieked when the first fake out jump-scare came. And then when the samurai sword beheaded the first naked co-ed, she almost crushed my arm. I was afraid at first that she might be hating the gore and would want to leave, but in the aftermath, as the story returned to the other, still-unaware characters, she smiled at me in the dark. When the next couple got naked, the nudity included a full-length, fully naked shot of the dude. The actor apparently spent all his time lifting weights and drinking creatine. He certainly wasn’t spending hours on acting class… But Carrie leaned over and whispered in my ear, “It’s about time we girls get our share of skin in these movies!”
My dick twitched hard. It did so because…
One, as I said before, Top. Notch.
Two, Carrie was talking about sex, and appreciatively… to me.
Three, when she whispered to me, her lips almost brushed my ear, and I could feel her breath on my face.
When the second kills came, this time with no initial fake out, Carrie almost spilled our tub of popcorn when she grabbed me. Once my own initial heart rate spike subsided, I really liked this development. First, she had buried her face against my shoulder. More importantly, I felt brave enough to take a chance. I held the almost spilled tub and whispered, “Yikes! This is balanced precariously.” I lifted the armrest between us up out of the way, letting the popcorn rest more stably on our seats instead, and not so incidentally getting the barrier between us out of the way.
If we had been characters in a movie ourselves, the confident guy would have taken the opportunity to put his arm around the girl at this point. But, see above: I’m not a player. Intentionally getting rid of that arm rest had been the most forward thing I’d done I my life.
After another quick kill, things had reached the permanent tension stage of the movie formula. The missing armrest suddenly became key, as Carrie actually slid closer to me, her hands gripping my hard, but meager biceps. Every time things got tense, she leaned in close, ready to hide her eyes in my shoulder.
Another top notch girl got top-less. She was already terrified of a mad killer on the loose, and she chooses to get naked? Gotta love horror movie logic. And then just like that, the girl on screen got head-less. It was a really good scare, though, and Carrie screamed out loud, grabbing my shoulders this time and burying her face in my chest. One of her breasts did not quite press itself against my hand, just my forearm, but I still thought I was going to die. Die happy.
I decided that this was the best movie ever made. I had been touched more by Carrie two-thirds of the way through this movie than I had been touched by pretty girls in my entire freaking life. And that brief press of firm boob-flesh against my arm had been heaven.
Carrie pulled away, suddenly a little self-conscious. “Sorry,” she whispered.
I just shrugged broadly enough to be seen in the dark. “Don’t worry about it. We are supposed to be scared, right? It’s fun.”
She smiled, though I could tell her heart was still beating fast. “It is,” she replied quietly. Then, even though things were not very tense at the moment, she leaned over against me anyway. I studiously moved my hands down out of the way to my own legs. The last thing I wanted, if she leaned against me again was for her to think I was copping a feel!
Three of the remaining four characters all bought it in rapid succession, each more gruesomely and quickly than the last. Carrie, along with lots of others in the audience, was screaming again, and she flipped toward me and practically tackled me in my seat. Her face buried against my neck and I felt her heaving, panicky breath. This time, I felt both boobs rubbing against me. But the piece de resistance was that she turned so hard against me that her far leg swung over and briefly draped across my own thigh-the thigh where I had stationed my hand in order to get it out of the way… Let’s just say that I was instantly, acutely aware that Carrie was not wearing hosiery.
Her legs slid back off me swiftly, but she barely loosened her grip on me otherwise. The Last Girl was already being pursued, screaming like mad. I shifted in my seat in my own kind of panic. I did not, under any circumstances, want to dislodge Carrie in any way, but if she got any closer to me, she might well feel just how crazily, uncomfortably aroused I was at that moment.
Dislodging Carrie would have been impossible anyway. She clung tight to me, twisting her shoulders to watch the screen as the girl, who was also top notch, but tragically only scantily dressed instead of naked, alternated between escaping through luck or ingenuity, and then doing something stupid to let the killer close in on her again.
Carrie was tense as a spring as the killer closed in for the last time. I think I was saved from having her climb into my engorged lap because she noticed, as did I, the high voltage wire right behind the girl. They had telegraphed that element earlier in the movie, and we both knew what was going to happen. It took just enough tension out of us to save me from Carrie climbing onto my hard-on.
The girl ducked at the last second, and the killer’s sword cut into the wire. Sparks. Flames. A guttural scream. Credits.
Carrie settled back into her seat with a smile I could see in the dark. She heaved a breath and said, “Wow, that was fun!” I certainly agreed, though most of my enthusiasm was reserved for events not on screen.
This had been the best date anyone had ever been on, I was sure. I certainly did not imagine me topping it in the future.
With a dumb smile on my face, I said, “Thanks Carrie. I really enjoyed this.” I wanted to ask if she’d like to do it again, but come on. There is pushing your luck, and there is just outright standing in front of an oncoming train. She had finally gotten a date, even if with a nerd like me. We had been seen by people she knew, and Mary and Maddie would tell the planet, those gossips. She would get the invitations that she really wanted, now.
“It’s too bad though,” Carrie went on, her lips screwed up in an uneven frown.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, my parents are taking my family on a trip to Vail for Spring Break. We, uh, leave tomorrow.”
“In what way,” I asked with an easy snort, “does spring skiing in Colorado suck?”
“Oh. Um,” she hesitated. “I just thought that if I were going to be here, we might have gone out again.”
“Oh,” I said. Aaaand I was panicking again. Who did this girl think I was? “Yeah, that would have been amazing,” trying to sound like she hadn’t lifted me up just to crush me even harder. “Maybe this summer?”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
At this point, I just wanted to get away from her. I know that sounds crazy, but I needed to process all this. This amazing date, and this little coda at the end would need a lot of analyzing. And frankly, I needed to jack off something fierce. “Well, if you are leaving tomorrow, you probably need to pack. I guess I should take you home?”
Much as I felt the need to be alone, I still was already wistful that she was going to say yes.
“No, maybe not yet,” Carrie surprised me. “I’m actually all packed.” She heaved a deep breath, which drew my gaze inexorably, and then added quickly, “Let’s go for a ride. I don’t feel like going home and having Kimball give me the third degree about you.”