21. Movie Theater 2 (2)
That male staff member must have seen my panties, but he showed no reaction whatsoever. He just checked my ticket with the exact same expression as before, mechanically tore it in half, and handed it back. I'm relieved he didn't give away that he'd seen me as a woman, but as a pervert, I'm disappointed he didn't react at all—the feelings mix half and half as they flash through my mind. It would've been nice if he'd at least looked shocked, or teasing, or even contemptuous, thinking I'd flashed him on purpose. I shake my head to brush off the regret.
The auditorium is bigger than I expected. And more people than I thought are already seated, watching the ads while waiting for the movie. At least thirty, no doubt. I figured a rundown theater like this would be nearly empty... Plus, since the entrance is at the front, looking up from below makes it seem even fuller. Can I even do anything in here like this...? I might end up just watching the damn movie. But that would feel like such a waste. It's a precious weekend without Yeji unnie, and I even bought popcorn—what if there's no payoff? The bus'll probably be crowded too. Should I head back to school and play around there...? Lost in these worries, I climb the stairs to find my seat.
The lights are still on, so spotting my seat is easy. It's in the very back row, center seat one row ahead. Luckily, most people are in the rows in front of me, and behind me, there's just one guy sitting alone at the end near the stairs. Best of all, no one else in my row, H. No one will notice. I can play here. A clear surge of anticipation tightens my chest.
True to the warning that time was short, the ads kick off almost immediately. Even with the ads blaring at ear-splitting volume, I can't focus—I'm in a daze. I just want the lights to go out already. That thought fills my head. Now, whenever my heart starts pounding, my thighs reflexively get wet. My body seems to know exactly what I'm about to do. Or maybe it's been conditioned like Pavlov's dog from all the outdoor play. Either way, the constant thudding of my heart feels good.
Last time, I took off my skirt in a theater with even more people... Today, I want to go further. Something riskier, more thrilling... The ads before the lights dim stretch on forever. Finally, the endless wait ends—the screen and lights plunge into darkness at once. The chatter dies, phone screens vanish, and in an instant, everything's silent and invisible. People are right nearby, but out of sight, and a strange courage wells up.
...It's starting now. I slowly slip my hand under my skirt. The short skirt is already thick with moisture. Hah... So wet already. I brush my fingertips over my panties, and they're slick with sticky fluid. It's too dark to see, but the sensation between my fingers tells me something's definitely there. Already soaked enough to seep through my panties? My perverted body makes my thighs twitch involuntarily. Hng... I want to show off this body... Strip naked.
Sudden impulse hits—I fiddle with the hem of my skirt. Should I take it off like last time? Starting from the top is too risky. The movie's just beginning; people are still focused. The lower half can hide behind the seat, but up top, there's nothing to cover with—too high difficulty right from the start. But I don't want to repeat the exact same method either.
...I've got a good idea. I pull my arms out of my knit cardigan. Underneath is the crop tank I've had on since home. Not ridiculously short like some internet ones, but with just thin straps over the shoulders, exposing them fully—and if I raise my arms, my navel might peek out. It's thin innerwear meant to be layered, but up to this point, even normal people do it without thinking.
But I'm not settling for that. I reach behind, unhook my bra, and feel a liberating lightness—while my breasts' weight shifts the fabric. Just that makes me hyper-aware, nerves on edge, wondering if anyone notices. With a small sigh, I force my scattered attention back to my arms. Now I have to move fast.
I slip the straps off both shoulders and quickly pull my arms free of the bra straps. Right side's easy, but the left snags, flailing in the air. I yank it free with a bit of force, leaving my bare shoulders exposed in a lewd silhouette. All my clothes hang precariously over my chest, like they're about to slip off any second. Cool AC air slips through the looseness, raising goosebumps. I slide my fingers along that path, grab the bra, lift it up, and pull it free completely.
Ah... The top's slipping down... With the straps off my shoulders, the bra slides out from under, and the crop top flops below my breasts. Plus, the rough drag over my chest as it came off makes my nipples pop out hard. My bare breasts thrust forward proudly, nipples erect, on full display. Not a thread covering them in the theater. Just that sends heat surging through me, my breaths coming shorter and ragged. I forcibly drag my hand away from my nipples. If I start touching now, I'll get caught for sure. At least wait till they're focused on the movie—move carefully.
Still, trembling, I stuff the bra into my bag without covering up. Haa, feels so good... If any of those black heads up front turns, they'll spot me—a pervert stripping right here. But I can't hold back. Still, I don't want to get caught yet... Reluctantly, I pull the crop top straps up to cover my chest. The nipples poke through the thin fabric, obvious. Couldn't wear this in the light. But with just this thin layer over my bare breasts, I feel incredibly free and precarious.
The cardigan... I won't wear it now. Normal people take off outer layers too. Even if this is innerwear meant for layering... It's just hot, that's all—no choice. Saying that to myself, I actually feel hotter. Whether from arousal or the actual heat, I decide not to think about it.
Feeling my pounding heart, I reach under my skirt again. My panties feel even wetter, uncomfortable. Should I take these off too...? My arms move to my waist without hesitation. This time, no need to remove the skirt too. If these were pants, I'd have to strip everything—that would've felt good... I shake my head to banish the thought.
I lift my hips slightly, tense my legs, and yank the panties down in a flash. Too dark to see fully, but the crotch looks whitely soaked in the shadows. Careful not to touch my shoes, I stretch toward my bag. Ah... No plastic bag for the wet panties. Gotta bring a ziplock next time. No choice—I wrap them in the bra cups and shove into my bag. Don't want them touching anything else; I'd hate wearing them again later.
Once the bag's sorted, it hits me hard: in a theater full of people, nothing but a short skirt and crop top, no underwear at all. Cool air slips between my breasts, dampness clings to my thighs—my body shivers. Each heartbeat spikes my arousal, filling my heated core instantly. Feels so good... Stripping outside is the best. Call me a pervert, I don't care. How could I resist this?
My hand slips to the slit between my legs unbidden. I stroke up from the entrance to the little nub above, and my hips twist, trembling finely. Every rub on my clit sends shivers through my whole body. I grit my teeth to stifle sound, hold my breath, and indulge. Tiny quivers bring waves of pleasure crashing to my brain—toes curling in satisfaction.