Matrix
Tags: Matrix, cinema, Neo, Trinity, oral sex,
My lone visit to the cinema to see my favourite trilogy gives me more than I'd expected
It's better if you've seen the films...
I love this film. It’s my favourite of the trilogy. Me and my mate Ricky watch it all the time, know the script by heart - people even started to call me Neo, the hero of the film, because I’m so hooked on it, even look a bit like him. We sometimes have a Matrix night, at his place or mine. Usually his place ‘cos he’s got the bigger TV, even though his mum is usually around. Monica is cool, is a big fan too and has told us lots of stuff we didn’t know - she’s great with Biblical and mythological references, stuff like that. We call her ‘The Oracle’ and that makes her laugh as she glides unobtrusively about, bringing us a snack, tidying up, or getting ready to go to work. We often watch all three films from start to finish, plus all the bonus material, looking for new links, clues… something cleverly woven into the story that we’ve missed before. But, like I said, this one, the first one, is my favourite, where my fascination began. And on the big screen with earth-shaking surround sound it’s a sensory deluge, saturating your eyes and ears. I am totally submerged in it.
‘I sent two units. They’re bringing her down now!’
‘No, lieutenant, your men are already dead.’
The cinema, like the gloomy, upstairs hotel room depicted on screen, is almost bereft of life, just half a dozen geeky guys and me. As I ready myself for the stunning fight scene that follows, I am distracted – no that’s not strong enough - pissed off - by the antics of a couple, two rows in front. His head is thrown back, he’s breathing hard and appears to be either having a heart attack or he’s just fallen from the balcony. But there is no balcony and I’m sure the woman is not giving him CPR. My anger peaks and dissipates in harmony with the following thoughts: dirty bitch/lucky guy. She stops her subtle-but-obvious movements, then offers him something from the palms of her hands. He pops the something in his mouth. I see her shake her head in silhouetted profile, then mime the words,
‘Get up Trinity. Just get up. Get up!’ in perfect syncronisation with the PVC clad heroine on screen. Dirty bitch and Matrix aficionado – lucky guy indeed. She stands and slowly makes her way to the aisle, straight, black hair falling like a curtain across her face and her long, black coat hiding all physical statistics. Come on woman, get out of the way! If you took the fucking shades off you’d get there a lot quicker. The guy suddenly looks at her, palms upwards, silently pleading for her to return. Behind them, dwarfing this mini drama, a screeching lorry careers towards a phone box, smashes it through the wall. The woman stops, waits for the onscreen dust to settle then mouths, ‘She got out.’ To his credit and right on cue, the guy shrugs his shoulders and sneers, says ‘It doesn’t matter,’ in perfect time with Agent Smith, then sinks back down into his seat, giving her back a parting ‘V’ sign. Maybe he’s not been as lucky as I thought.
Still, I can’t wait to tell Ricky about what I just saw. He’ll laugh and leer and fall about. Shame he couldn’t come today. This special anniversary showing of all three films, one after the other, had only been advertised at short notice and Monica had something else lined up for him, something he couldn’t escape from. I said I’d come for both of us, eat his share of the popcorn, drink his coke. That made him laugh too. I reach under my seat for the bag of goodies I’ve brought in – I don’t pay the extortionate cinema prices – then remember it's on the next seat, hidden under my leather coat. That’s right, leather coat, even though it’s summer. I fiddle around a bit, looking for the wine gums then sit back up as I realise I am no longer alone. Collar turned up, dark glasses, the same straight, jet hair. I sense she is about to speak. I turn back to the screen, transfixed, waiting for her. Gyrating bodies, thumping music.
‘Hello Neo.’ Her voice syncs perfectly with Carrie-Ann Moss’s. I don’t turn to look at her, just know instinctively what I have to say, wait for the cue. I summon my best Keanu Reeves impression.
‘How do you know that name?’
‘I know a lot about you.’
‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Trinity.’
I manage to stammer: ‘Trinity? The Trinity?’
She leans close to me, I feel her breath on me, but instead of the words I expect to hear, she nibbles my earlobe then caresses my ear with a soft tongue. Her hand lightly touches my thigh, traces a pattern like a Celtic tribal tattoo, then she whispers again with an incredibly sexy hoarseness.
‘I know why you’re here, Neo. I know what you’ve been doing. I know why you hardly sleep, why you live alone and why, night after night…’
My turn to breathe hard. What the fuck is going on. The guy slouching two rows in front is simply watching the film now, isn’t concerned by her absence… My mind races: did he arrive alone today too and she just picked him out at random, touched him up and then… then? No, he didn’t climax, he nearly begged her to sit back down. OK… so, he somehow didn’t make the grade and she’s now come to me? To test me? Am I the one? No way? She turns away from me, possibly sensing my hesitance, and stares up at the story unfolding before us. As she reaches into her coat pockets her coat falls open and the green tint of the screen washes over the black PVC vest that clings to her breasts and taut belly like a second skin. My mouth falls open. Now I see the movie playing in her shades as she turns back to me. She holds out her two hands and now I am reflected in the dark lenses. Two Jelly beans. One blue, one red. Where some would see coincidence, I see providence. I should choose blue. Everyone knows that. So I take the red. She nods, smiles wryly. Again the fabulously sexy voice.
‘I was looking for an answer. It’s the question that drives us, Neo. It’s the question that brought you here.’ Her hand is again scribing my thigh, her red lips against my cheek. God, I want her hand on my naked cock, want to feel those lips close around me. Despite where I am I relax, groan, push my pelvis forward, dying for her touch. My legs fall open and her hand is between them as quick as a scorpion kick.
‘You know the question - just as I did.’ I think I know why the guy was spurned – wrong words, wrong bean. I’m sure that the right words coupled with the right choice of bean will do the trick, will instigate something approaching my wildest-ever fantasies, hopefully an unbelievably erotic event that I’ll remember all my life. And I know what the words are.
‘What is the Matrix?’
My response unlocks a frenzy of activity. Seems I ticked all her boxes. A long low moan escapes her, then her breath comes in short guttural bursts as she pulls frantically at the fastenings to my trousers. She squeezes me through my pants, starts to massage me through the material as her lips cover mine. My mouth is momentarily invaded by her tongue, then her head falls into my lap. She exposes my stiff pink rod and frantically gorges herself on it. Exposing the hard red tip with a deft tug, she sucks noisily and violently. Her right hand slides up my T shirt and she pulls and squeezes my left nipple with equal aggression. Her nails are long and hard and she rakes them painfully across my belly, then digs them into my cock so hard my eyes water. She really hurts me. It’s as if I have a gun to her head and have given her 10 seconds to make me cum before I pull the trigger. I’ve only had oral performed on me a few times, but it was never like this. I hate to think what my cock will look like after this mauling, but suddenly the pain subsides and pleasure takes over. And what fucking pleasure. This is a spectacular blow-job. Every part of her mouth stimulates every inch of my cock. I’m shaking and grunting in time with her rhythmic oral penetrations. My left hand pushes her head further onto me, forcing my rigid flesh further down her throat and this turns her on even more. She gags. I explore her face with my fingers, push one into the mouth that is clamped tight around me, feel the saliva covering my balls. Now I seek out her breasts, squeezing through the tight, slippery PVC, searching for a nipple to twist. This raises her level of arousal even higher and she is biting me hard, her squeals of delight barely drowned by the throbbing, insistent, close-packed horns of the soundtrack. I look back at the screen. Agents. Neo in handcuffs. I close my eyes, visualise Trinity’s tight ass on the motorbike, her tits straining at her seemingly sprayed-on garments and I’m cumming. I whisper it to her.
‘Just fucking do it,’ she drawls back, stopping her onslaught for no more than an instant. So I do. I don’t give a fuck. Here, bitch, take this. I feel the pleasure build with every vicious thrust, hold it back as the waves sweep over me… one more, no one more… another… this is it. The whole fucking cinema explodes in a brilliant flash of green-tinted light while all sounds merge into a deep, vibrant hum that just keeps getting louder… at the centre of the explosion I feel her hand close around me and again her nails dig in painfully, but she keeps me there on the crest of the wave. I’m carried on by it, supported by it, riding it out and the shore is a long way off… Oh, God, this is unbelievably good. She’s sucking it down, slurping hungrily, still not satisfied, though I pump and pump it into her – I haven’t wanked for a few days and there’s loads of it. It’ll be thick and creamy, hard to swallow.
‘How about I give you the finger… and you give me my phone call?’
I know what’s coming next. Neo’s mouth glues together, horrifically, like something from a nightmare. I know how he feels. I have nothing to say to the woman who just mouth-raped my cock, I can’t even look at her. I feel used. Pathetic, I know, ‘cos I loved every moment of it, but that’s how I feel. It suddenly can’t have happened. Not to me. Things like this don’t happen to me. I look down at my shrinking, aching member. Even in this light I can see the red wheals on it. Fucking hell! Ricky will fucking love this!
‘Shit!’ She’s stubbed her toe as she stumbles away from me along the empty row. Take off the fucking shades, woman!
It’s almost dark when I get to Ricky’s. I knock and wait. There’s 303 on the door, though it’s really number 27. That really confuses the postman. He opens the door, and a broad grin splits his face. He’s wearing a plaster spattered over-all and has debris in his lank blonde hair.
‘Hi, Neo!’ He sees me eying his uncharacteristic garb. ‘Oh, I’ve been over at Cypher’s new place, helping him rip out the old bathroom. I’ve only just got back.’ I step forward, but he holds up his palm. ‘No! Wait there…’ I stop, but echo his hand signal, the one that can stop bullets.
‘No! You wait till you hear this…’ I lower my voice in case his mum is near. She doesn’t like gratuitous swearing. ‘You really fucking won’t fucking, fucking believe this. Listen, I was watching…’
‘Woah! Please, wait a minute! For once, this is better than anything you’ve got to say.’ He winks, looks back down the hallway, expectantly. My gaze follows his. There is a pause. I wonder if there’s something I should be doing, but then from the shadows, into the spotlight of the hall light, steps Trinity. She performs a perfectly controlled and unbelievably athletic walkover and high kick, then stands before me, slaps a gun to my temple and sneers.
‘Dodge this!’
My brain explodes into a million shattered fragments all stamped with ‘What the fuck?’ For once, he was right. I simply stare, face reddening, heart pounding. My right hand moves instinctively to cover my crotch, my poor scratched, gouged and battered cock, then I take it mechanically from there and rub my brow, stunned.
‘What d’yer think? Eh?’ Ricky has played his ace, and what a card she is.
‘I… I…’ My head is suddenly a void, all words have gone and it’s the best I can do. We are frozen like this. I blew my lines and another blooper is destined for the cutting-room floor. A phone rings inside. Ricky dashes in to answer it. Trinity lowers her head, slips off the wig and unpins her blonde hair. In bullet-time she shakes her hair free, removes the shades and smiles at me.
‘M... M… Monica! Fucking hell… Er, I mean, wow!’
‘Language, Thomas,’ she frowns only half jokingly, then rubs her back. ‘I need to warm up before I do that again… It’s been twenty years since I last competed. Still, not bad for an old ’un, eh Thomas?’
‘Yeah… not bad at all.’ My face is a mask as my brain races through the permutations, weighs the odds, faces the inevitable. Ricky is back, looks his mum up and down and laughs.
‘Quick! Get the wig back on! That was Dorothy. Says she’ll be here in a few minutes… Mum’s off to a fancy-dress party tonight. She looks fabulous, doesn’t she? I fancy her myself!’ Monica scowls, digs an elbow into his ribs. I somehow nod and shake my head at the same time. ‘Now that Cypher’s finally gone, mum’s starting to enjoy her freedom, aren’t you Trin?’ He casts an arm around her, squeezes her waist, winks at her
‘Damn you, Cypher!’ she intones and raises her eyes to the dark sky. When we three are together, Cypher is the name we use for Ricky’s dodgy and duplicitous dad.
‘Anyway, what have you got that’s better than this?’ I try to think… Agent Smith didn’t pursue me here… squiddies aren’t speeding through the sewers… I have nothing better than this, so I stare at him, bewildered. He prompts me again. ‘Something happened at the cinema?’
‘Cinema?’ It’s Monica’s turn to compute. Her eyebrows lift, but the rest of her face is noticeably suppressed, frozen.
‘Yeah, Tom went to see the anniversary screening - Matrix Trilogy – over in Sheffield this afternoon. Big screen. Just how it should be seen, all in one go.’ He turns back to me. ‘Good?’
Monica’s mouth is a tight, tiny hyphen, her pupils are glassy full stops. She’s ceased breathing. I sense rows of green digital numbers changing randomly behind her dark eyes. She is thinking: ‘Shit! Is he a zero or is he ‘The One’?’ Ha. The irony: Trinity prays Neo is not ‘The One’.
‘I… er…’ I look at the wooden floor, from Ricky’s dusty socks to Monica’s patent kinky boots, then back to the floor between them. ‘I… er, didn’t go in the end. Some trouble with the car. Sorted now.’
Ricky eyes me up and down dejectedly, frowns and sticks out his lower lip.
‘That’s a shame, man. We could watch it here?’
Monica’s suspended energy now flows and she’s gushing nervously, laughing to cover up her excess animation.
‘Anyway, don’t stand there all night. Come in, Neo, come in. I’ll get the kettle on. I’ve eaten, but I can put some ‘gloop’ in the microwave for you two… Can’t wait for the party. I’m all excited. These clothes, ‘specially the boots, make me feel so… so…’ and she blushes, bites her bottom lip, but can’t resist the word, ‘sssssexy,’ and her voice takes on a whispered, throaty hoarseness I’d never heard from her before. As we troop down the hall she casts over her shoulder, ‘We had you there for a minute didn’t we?’
‘Er, yeah. You certainly had me there.’
‘I’d better get in the shower. Cue the film up - I’ll be two minutes. Oh – and keep your hands off her, Neo!’ Ricky laughs and clambers up the stairs, leaving a thin cloud of dust in his wake. We are suddenly, starkly alone.
‘Why, Monica?’ I clasp her forearm. Our eyes meet and I see tears welling up. ‘You didn’t know it was me? Till just now… Jesus…’
She shakes her head. ‘Can't see a thing with these on!' She waves the sunglasses in my face. 'You were a young, geeky guy on his own. Firm, young, tasty flesh, bit of fun, no questions asked. Can’t blame me for that - I’ve had twenty years of that bastard, grinding at my self-worth, self-belief. Now he’s gone…’ and she shakes her lovely head again, as if she’s only just truly realised it. I hear water splashing and Ricky croaking, ‘Wake up, wake up!’ at the top of his voice. Monica smiles, then continues earnestly, ‘Now Cypher’s gone and… and… I have so much time to make up, so much to do. He’s really fucked me up, but yer know?’ She searches for the right phrase. ‘I’m not afraid anymore.’
I glibly quote: ‘A world... without borders or boundaries. A world where anything is possible,’ and I look at her, questioningly.
‘Damn right! Don’t feel bad about today. I don’t. I enjoyed today. I really, really fucking enjoyed myself.’ And when Monica swears it really adds weight to what she says. ‘Hey, and you’re pretty well tooled-up!’ She leers and laughs. I blush, but smile too. She ruffles my hair and I notice that her cheeks are red too. She is so cool. I nod.
‘I think I understand… I know what you’re trying to do.’
‘I’m trying to free your mind, Neo!’
I shake my head wryly and she curls her mouth again into that sexy smile of hers, then faces the mirror and assiduously puts on the wig and shades. We stand in easy silence till there’s a knock at the door. ‘That’ll be Dorothy. Always early. Not a word... OK?’ I nod. She’s suddenly preoccupied, struggling internally with something, then she nods her head, gives herself consent and whispers, ‘Come round tomorrow – Ricky’s at his dad’s again all day - I’ll show you about borders and boundaries, what’s really possible. I’ll even wear this again for you. Free your mind, Neo!’ Heels click on the wooden floor as she passes me. I'm sweating. I'm hard. My best mate’s mum is suddenly the most gorgeous woman on earth. A flurry of movement , a couple of stunning walkovers and she’s at the door. She winks. ‘Twelve o’clock. We’ll have some lunch, then I’ll load the jump programme.’ Another wink and she is gone.
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