ReallyGreen
Member
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100% absolutely true story.
So the wife and I are having a double-date with another married couple and the plan is to see the Watchmen movie in the THX-approved theater in the nearest major city. While standing in-line to buy popcorn/drinks my former pro-dominatrix gets to the head of the line at the next register.
1. She's with somebody else. I don't know if they're married, dating, siblings, or some client is paying her $200/hr to watch a movie with him.
2. My wife, who never met my former dominatrix (but knew of her) was standing right there and I didn't want to cause a fight right before the movie.
I figure discretion is probably best, so I say nothing and pretend I saw nothing. We go into the theater and take our seats. Thirty seconds later my former dominatrix and her companion takes the row directly in front of us. She doesn't talk to, or even look at me, so I'm assuming she's being discrete or simply didn't notice me.
Movie starts...blah blah blah.... cut to the Dan/Laurie scene in the Gunga Diner.
Former dominatrix is staring a hole in my forehead. She has a smile on her face you would never see in the wild unless you were meeting a great white for lunch. I slide down in my seat and turn a shade of red.
Flash forward to the aborted sex scene between Night-Owl/Silk Specter.....
"OK, just give me a minute to get ready.... oh shit." (movie, real life event.... there just aren't many ways to say "my penis isn't working". I'm pretty sure I said the exact same thing to my dominatrix during our last anti-climactic session together)
Now I swear to the Gods my former dom does a pretty good exorcist impression, I'm certain that whenever I remember this event for the rest of my life it will be exactly like this.
1. On-screen the Night Owl fails to rise to the occasion
2. An hour and a half of silence follows
3. One guy further down and left does his best Nelson Muntz ("Ha-Ha!")
4a. Every male in the theater unaccompanied by children age 11-30 laughs out loud
4b. Every male in the theater age 30+ groans in empathic condolence for the Night Owl
5. Every Parent who brought their child to the R-movie now starts a 35 minute mental plan as to how to explain why everybody is laughing right now.
6. My dominatrix's head swivels on her neck counterclockwise as slowly and smoothly as if her vertebrae were built with ball-bearings. Her sardonic shit-eating grin is so goddamned wide I swear she had to unhinge her jaw like a snake so that I could see the back of her molars. A smile so genuinely happy with my psychological suffering that if attempted in any less embarrassing of a situation you would hurt yourself and likely cause permanent facial paralyzation.
So whatever shade of red I wasn't before I am now. I'm pretty sure I've sunk so low in my seat that my weight is now resting on my shoulder-blades. If I hadn't used the men's room just before the movie I'm pretty sure I would have voided my bowels because I was so embarrassed and wanted to die so badly my body was probably about to start spontaneous rigor mortis.
After the movie I don't see her again. Our foursome stops by a head-shop, a sex-toy store, we eat at an Italian restaurant and by the time we get back to our friend's house we're so stoned, drunk & tired that we stay on their guest bed. My wife is asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow. So I masturbate and wipe my cum off myself with her pants.
There is no moral to this story. I'm sorry I kept you reading really, I just thought the chain of events was whimsically amusing.
-ReallyGreen
PS: The movie is pretty good.
So the wife and I are having a double-date with another married couple and the plan is to see the Watchmen movie in the THX-approved theater in the nearest major city. While standing in-line to buy popcorn/drinks my former pro-dominatrix gets to the head of the line at the next register.
1. She's with somebody else. I don't know if they're married, dating, siblings, or some client is paying her $200/hr to watch a movie with him.
2. My wife, who never met my former dominatrix (but knew of her) was standing right there and I didn't want to cause a fight right before the movie.
I figure discretion is probably best, so I say nothing and pretend I saw nothing. We go into the theater and take our seats. Thirty seconds later my former dominatrix and her companion takes the row directly in front of us. She doesn't talk to, or even look at me, so I'm assuming she's being discrete or simply didn't notice me.
Movie starts...blah blah blah.... cut to the Dan/Laurie scene in the Gunga Diner.
Former dominatrix is staring a hole in my forehead. She has a smile on her face you would never see in the wild unless you were meeting a great white for lunch. I slide down in my seat and turn a shade of red.
Flash forward to the aborted sex scene between Night-Owl/Silk Specter.....
"OK, just give me a minute to get ready.... oh shit." (movie, real life event.... there just aren't many ways to say "my penis isn't working". I'm pretty sure I said the exact same thing to my dominatrix during our last anti-climactic session together)
Now I swear to the Gods my former dom does a pretty good exorcist impression, I'm certain that whenever I remember this event for the rest of my life it will be exactly like this.
1. On-screen the Night Owl fails to rise to the occasion
2. An hour and a half of silence follows
3. One guy further down and left does his best Nelson Muntz ("Ha-Ha!")
4a. Every male in the theater unaccompanied by children age 11-30 laughs out loud
4b. Every male in the theater age 30+ groans in empathic condolence for the Night Owl
5. Every Parent who brought their child to the R-movie now starts a 35 minute mental plan as to how to explain why everybody is laughing right now.
6. My dominatrix's head swivels on her neck counterclockwise as slowly and smoothly as if her vertebrae were built with ball-bearings. Her sardonic shit-eating grin is so goddamned wide I swear she had to unhinge her jaw like a snake so that I could see the back of her molars. A smile so genuinely happy with my psychological suffering that if attempted in any less embarrassing of a situation you would hurt yourself and likely cause permanent facial paralyzation.
So whatever shade of red I wasn't before I am now. I'm pretty sure I've sunk so low in my seat that my weight is now resting on my shoulder-blades. If I hadn't used the men's room just before the movie I'm pretty sure I would have voided my bowels because I was so embarrassed and wanted to die so badly my body was probably about to start spontaneous rigor mortis.
After the movie I don't see her again. Our foursome stops by a head-shop, a sex-toy store, we eat at an Italian restaurant and by the time we get back to our friend's house we're so stoned, drunk & tired that we stay on their guest bed. My wife is asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow. So I masturbate and wipe my cum off myself with her pants.
There is no moral to this story. I'm sorry I kept you reading really, I just thought the chain of events was whimsically amusing.
-ReallyGreen
PS: The movie is pretty good.
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