“Have you ever found yourself unable to say no?”
I told her it happened all the time: another beer, an hour later, a second slice of pie. She smiled and shrugged until it was clear that wasn’t quite what she meant.
“I was at the theater last week by myself,” she told me. “I like going by myself because it’s a nice break from everything else. I can drown myself in a play or the opera and the rest of my life evaporates for a while.
“This time I ended up sitting between two men. One was in a perfect grey suit and the other in jeans and a cashmere sweater that I let rub against my bare arm when he sat down. They were polite and we mostly sat in silence looking over the Playbill until the lights went down.
“I’m not sure who did what first, but by the middle of the first act, I had a hand on each knee. It must have started with our knees brushing against each other, or possibly our hands touched without us trying. Whatever it was, I simply let the progression happen until they both touched my knee right below the hem of my dress.
“We were polite during intermission but didn’t talk very much. As soon as the lights went down again the hands were back and this time they were curious. Rather than close my legs, or brush them away, I did the opposite. I opened them ever so slightly so each man could slide his fingers gently up the insides of my thighs.
“Do you understand what I’m saying? I didn’t make a decision one way or another. I simply didn’t say no. I didn’t have any huge desire to be touched by either of them, but I also had no interest in turning them down. It was as if any decision at all would exhaust me to the point of collapse.
“The theater was dark, and with my sweater held tightly in my lap no one around us seemed to notice. They grew bolder as the play went on and even when their fingers brushed one another as they finally reached my silk panties they continued. It almost felt coordinated as they took turns gently massaging my thighs and sliding fingers under the fabric.
“When the first one slide a finger inside me (I don’t even remember which one it was) I was soaking wet. I tried to watch the play, and I wondered how I had let this happen, but it never once occurred to me to stop it. Their hands were strong and gentle and they teased me over and over again for at least a half an hour. I sometimes would squeeze my thighs around one of their hands or hold their fingers in place by pushing my arms against them through my sweater and skirt.
“I came silently just before the play finished. Again, I have no idea which one pushed me over the edge. In fact, I could no longer distinguish their hands and I suppose I didn’t care. It was almost as if the men behind the hands were irrelevant.
“I’m not sure why I couldn’t say no.”
She was quiet for a while and I didn’t know what to say. Finally, she leaned back in her chair and pulled her feet up to her chest.
“Maybe it is like a second slice of pie.”
–Guy New York
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From the archives…
Tilly Bloom 