There was never going to be a crowd. Monday evening, foreign language, experimental. First scene on the big screen: Four men in a field staring grumpily at the four points of the compass.

With the scant audience dotted about the auditorium, I was at a loss to understand why the woman chose to sit right next to me. There were, after all, seats to burn in the unlikely event a riot should break out.

About ten minutes into the film, the woman’s movements attracted my attention. At first I just thought she was trying to get comfortable, and in a way she was. It took a while for me to believe what the corner of my eye was registering. I turned my head. In the reflected glow from the screen I saw her; skirt pulled up, stocking-tops, hand inside of knickers.

She wasn’t looking at the screen, of course she wasn’t. You’d have to be excessively kinky to get off on a man stabbing an inner tube with cutlery. No, her eyes were closed. She was seeing some other scenario in her mind’s eye.

I was jealous. As a man, whip out your willy in a public place and you cause an affray. It’s different for women.

Film forgotten, I felt lust harden. But I couldn’t just reach out, could I? We were right at the back, the nearest people to us a few rows in front. Quietly, but not too quietly, I murmured, “May I?”

The woman didn’t answer, nor did she open her eyes, but her hand came out of her panties. I watched as she bent her arm, her hand coming closer. Fingers touched my face, moist against my cheek. More movement. Fingers held just below my nostrils. I breathed in fumes of lust, head spinning.

Her hand moved again, feeling its way, finally taking my hand and lifting it across the armrest. Anticipation made me tense long before she slid my fingers over her stomach. When they reached the hem of her panties, I had no doubt as to what she wanted.

As I slid my fingers inside the material, she let go of my hand. My fingers felt heat, wet and slippery; I began to explore. The woman’s hand was suddenly in my lap. Then I heard her voice, sultry temptation. “May I?”

There was no point in answering. Before I had to time to she’d given a little squeeze and begun to pull my zip down. I continued toying with and between her folds as she used both hands to unbuckle my belt. Then a hand slid inside my underpants, pliant fingers gripped my shaft, holding me.

I pushed a finger against her entrance. There was a commotion on screen, four men bickering about a dead seagull, but above it I could hear her moan. Her hand began to move, encouraging me to dig deeper. Two fingers; how could I resist? There was another soft moan. She was leaning across, moist tongue touching my ear lobe, hot breath snaking its way into my head.

It was an invitation no sane man could have refused. I pulled my hand out of her knickers and slid forwards, off my seat. The woman adjusted her position, managing to lift her legs over the armrests on either side of her. By the time I was crouching in front of her, she’d pulled her knickers to one side and was holding herself open.

I leaned in. The powerful scent of desire was almost overwhelming. There were sounds of a renewed commotion on screen. I didn’t care. There was only one place I wanted to be, or rather that my tongue wanted to be. I buried it inside her, liquid lust seeping into it, draining me of all sense. I felt her move against me and withdrew my tongue to slide it up, finding her nub.

She moved some more. This time I could hear her moan. I adjusted my arm awkwardly, managing to push two fingers inside her. She oozed creamy desire and I slid my tongue back down to taste. Her hands moved up her body. I followed them with my eyes, watching as she began fondling the curve of concealed breasts. I dug my fingers into her, the scent of her strong, enflaming my own fierce desire.

She moaned some more, body shifting. My tongue struck her nub as my fingers pushed in. Three fingers now. More and more moisture, the sound of it growing louder. An exquisitely filthy sound, making me lash at her clit with my tongue as I pushed and pushed, stretching her, delighting in the steady trickle of liquid.

Then there was light. The beam of a torch. Before I had time to react, the woman’s hands were on my head, forcing me into her. I managed to get a glance to one side, spying a name tag. Terror struck as the Magistrate’s Court flashed before my eyes. And yet I couldn’t stop moving my fingers or my tongue.

The woman seemed completely oblivious to events, her eyes still closed. She shifted some more as I sensed the figure with the torch come closer. Her moans seemed to grow louder, so loud that someone else must hear. This could only end in tears now.

Then she was shuddering. Her body heaved as the torchlight wavered. Finally I managed to pull my head away. I recognized the man standing over us, who now sat down on the edge of my seat and leaned forwards. He’d torn my ticket earlier. I braced myself for the disgrace as the woman adjusted her position.

“I think you passed the audition, mate.”

“What?”

“The missus seems to have taken a shine to you.”

The man handed me a scrap of paper. I looked at it. There was an address and a time scribbled on it.

The woman had her eyes open now, staring at expectantly at me.

“You’ve got yourself a date,” I said.