I stepped out of the cozy cinema, the soft glow of the lobby lights a stark contrast to the dimly lit theater I’d just left. My heart was still fluttering, caught in the timeless embrace of Somewhere in Time. The haunting melody of the soundtrack lingered in my mind, a bittersweet reminder of the love story that had just unfolded on the screen. I took a deep breath, the scent of popcorn and old carpet grounding me as I made my way toward the exit.

The cinema was a gem, a small, independent theater that specialized in old classics. It was my sanctuary, a place where I could escape the chaos of the modern world and lose myself in the elegance of bygone eras. Tonight, though, felt different. The movie had stirred something deeper within me, a longing I hadn’t felt in years.

As I approached the exit, I spotted a figure standing by the door, his silhouette backlit by the streetlights outside. My steps slowed as I recognized him. It was Barry, my computer guy. He was wiping his eyes, his hand brushing away what looked like tears. I paused, surprised. Barry wasn’t the type I’d pegged for a romantic. He was practical, efficient, the kind of guy who fixed my laptop with quiet competence and never stayed for small talk.

“Barry?” I called out softly, not wanting to startle him. He turned, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Sharon,” he said, his voice hoarse. He quickly wiped his eyes again, as if trying to erase any evidence of emotion. “I didn’t know you were into old classics.”

I smiled, feeling a strange warmth at the sight of him. “I didn’t know you were. This one… it gets to me every time.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “Me too. It’s… it’s something else, isn’t it?”

I stepped closer, feeling an unexpected connection. “It’s my favorite. I’ve never seen it with anyone else who feels the same way.”

We stood there for a moment, the weight of shared emotion hanging between us. The theater was emptying out, but neither of us seemed eager to leave. Finally, I spoke, the words tumbling out before I could second-guess them.

“Want to come over? I’ve got some wine, and we could talk about it.”

He hesitated, his gaze flicking between me and the door. “I don’t want to impose,” he said, but there was a hopeful note in his voice.

“You’re not imposing,” I assured him. “It’s just wine and conversation. Unless you’ve got somewhere to be.”

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “No. No, I’d like that.”

We walked to my place in comfortable silence, the night air cool against our skin. My apartment was just a few blocks away, a cozy space filled with books, vintage posters, and the faint scent of lavender. I unlocked the door and gestured for him to come in.

“Make yourself at home,” I said, heading to the kitchen. “Red or white?”

“Red,” he called back, settling onto the couch.

I poured two glasses, the rich aroma of the wine filling the air as I carried them into the living room. Barry was leaning back, his eyes scanning the shelves of DVDs and books.

“Impressive collection,” he remarked, running a finger along the spines of the films.

“Thanks,” I said, handing him a glass. “I’m a bit of a cinephile. What about you? What else do you like?”

He took a sip, his gaze meeting mine over the rim of the glass. “I’m more of a classic guy. Casablanca, Gone with the Wind, The Godfather… but Somewhere in Time… there’s something about it. It’s like it reaches into your soul and doesn’t let go.”

I nodded, feeling a surge of excitement. “Yes! That’s exactly it. The way they love each other, so completely, so desperately… it’s like they’re the only two people in the world.”

“And the ending,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It breaks me every time. The sacrifice, the love… it’s too much.”

I sat down beside him, our shoulders brushing lightly. “I know. I cry every time. But it’s a good cry, you know? It’s like… it purifies you.”

We fell into an easy rhythm, talking about our favorite movies, laughing at the absurdity of some plots, and debating the merits of different directors. The wine flowed freely, loosening our tongues and our inhibitions. But beneath the surface, there was a tension, a current of something unspoken that neither of us acknowledged.

Until I broke it.

“You know,” I said, setting my glass down on the coffee table, “I’ve always thought your voice was so sexy.”

Barry froze, his eyes widening as he turned to face me. “Really?”

I nodded, my cheeks flushing under his intense gaze. “Really. It’s deep, and it’s… I don’t know, it’s just… captivating.”

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Funny you mention that. When I was servicing your computer, I found an audio file. It was… you.”

My breath caught in my throat. “You heard that?”

He nodded, his face a mix of embarrassment and desire. “I listened to it. A lot. I… I forwarded it to myself. Listened to it countless times. Jerked off to it, if I’m being honest.”

The room seemed to shrink around us, the air thick with unspoken desire. My heart was pounding, my skin tingling with anticipation. I’d never expected this—never imagined that Barry, quiet, unassuming Barry, had been harboring such intense feelings.

“I’ve wanted to make mad, passionate love to you for so long,” he confessed, his voice thick with longing.

I couldn’t resist him any longer. The years of unspoken attraction, the shared love for the same movie, the raw honesty of his confession—it all converged in that moment, igniting a fire that had been smoldering for far too long.

“Then do it,” I whispered, reaching for him.

He didn’t need to be told twice. In an instant, he was on me, his lips crashing against mine with a hunger that left me breathless. His hands were everywhere, tracing the curves of my body, pulling me closer as if he could never get close enough. I moaned into his mouth, my fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to me as if I were afraid he might disappear.

He broke the kiss, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jawline, down my neck, his breath warm against my skin. “God, Sharon,” he murmured, his voice ragged. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Me too,” I gasped, arching into his touch. “Me too.”

He pushed me back gently, his eyes devouring me as he took in the sight of me. I was wearing a simple black dress, the kind that hugged my curves in all the right places, and he seemed to appreciate it, his gaze lingering on the swell of my breasts, the dip of my waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his fingers tracing the neckline of my dress. “So fucking beautiful.”

I shivered at his words, my skin prickling with anticipation. “Take it off,” I commanded, my voice steady despite the storm of desire raging inside me.

He didn’t hesitate. With deft fingers, he unzipped the back of my dress, the fabric sliding off my shoulders and pooling at my feet. I was left in nothing but my lace bra and matching panties, the cool air of the room raising goosebumps on my skin.

Barry’s eyes darkened, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. “Fuck,” he groaned, reaching out to cup my breast through the thin fabric of my bra. “You’re perfect.”

I moaned, my head falling back as his thumb brushed over my nipple, already tight and aching for his touch. “Touch me,” I pleaded, my voice hoarse. “Please, Barry, touch me.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. His hands were everywhere, exploring, teasing, driving me wild with anticipation. He unhooked my bra with practiced ease, his eyes never leaving mine as he revealed my breasts to his hungry gaze.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth.

I cried out, my hands gripping his hair as he suckled, his tongue swirling, his teeth grazing. It was too much, not enough, every sensation heightened by the years of pent-up desire.

“Barry,” I moaned, my body arching off the couch. “I need you. Now.”

He looked up, his eyes burning with need. “Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice rough.

“I want you to fuck me,” I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my limbs. “I want you to take me right here, right now. I want to feel you inside me, filling me up, making me yours.”

He growled, a primal sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “Say it again.”

“Fuck me, Barry,” I whispered, my eyes locked on his. “Fuck me hard. Make me scream your name.”

He didn’t waste another second. With swift, efficient movements, he shed his clothes, revealing a body that was lean and muscular, his skin flushed with desire. His cock stood proud and thick, pulsing with anticipation, and I felt my mouth water at the sight of it.

“On your knees,” he commanded, his voice brooking no argument.

I obeyed without hesitation, sinking to my knees in front of him. He was already hard, his cock throbbing in my hands as I wrapped my fingers around him, stroking him slowly, savoring the feel of his skin against mine.

“Suck it,” he growled, his hands tangling in my hair. “Suck my cock, Sharon. Make me feel good.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I leaned forward, taking him into my mouth, my lips wrapping around him as I sucked him deep. He tasted of salt and skin, and I moaned around him, the vibrations sending shivers through his body.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his hips bucking slightly as I worked my magic. “You’re so good at that. So fucking good.”

I hollowed my cheeks, sucking harder, my tongue swirling around the head of his cock as I took him as deep as I could. He was thick, stretching my mouth, and I loved the feeling of him filling me, dominating me.

“Enough,” he said abruptly, pulling me to my feet. “I need to be inside you. Now.”

He pushed me back onto the couch, his hands gripping my hips as he positioned himself between my legs. I reached for him, guiding his cock to my entrance, and he thrust forward, burying himself inside me in one smooth motion.

“Oh fuck,” I gasped, my head falling back as he filled me completely. “Barry, you feel so good.”

“You’re so tight,” he groaned, his hips snapping forward as he began to move. “So fucking tight. I’ve dreamed of this, Sharon. Dreamed of being inside you, making you mine.”

He set a relentless pace, his cock sliding in and out of me with a rhythm that was both primal and tender. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through me, building, building, until I thought I might explode.

“Harder,” I demanded, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Fuck me harder, Barry. I need it. I need you.”

He growled, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I knew I’d have bruises tomorrow. But I didn’t care. I wanted it all—the pain, the pleasure, the raw, unbridled passion that only he could give me.

“You like that, don’t you?” he taunted, his hips pistoning faster, harder. “You like it when I fuck you like this. When I take what’s mine.”

“Yes,” I screamed, my voice echoing through the room. “Yes, Barry, fuck yes! Don’t stop, don’t ever stop!”

He didn’t. He fucked me with a ferocity that left me breathless, his cock pounding into me, his balls slapping against my clit with each thrust. I was on the edge, teetering, my body coiled tight as I waited for the release that I knew was coming.

“Come for me, Sharon,” he commanded, his voice hoarse. “Come on my cock. Let me feel you fall apart.”

Those words were my undoing. My walls clenched around him, my body shaking as I screamed his name, my orgasm ripping through me like a tidal wave. I was drowning in it, lost in the sensation of him filling me, claiming me, making me his.

“Fuck, Sharon,” he groaned, his own release crashing into him seconds later. He thrust deep one last time, his cock pulsing inside me as he spilled himself, his seed filling me up, marking me as his.

We collapsed in a heap, our bodies glistening with sweat, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. Barry rolled onto his side, pulling me into his arms, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

“That was…” I started, my voice trailing off as I searched for the right words.

“Incredible,” he finished for me, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin. “I’ve wanted that for so long.”

I smiled, snuggling into his embrace. “Me too. Me too.”

We lay there in silence, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside and the steady beat of our hearts. It was perfect, this moment, this connection, this raw, unfiltered passion that had been simmering between us for years.

And as I drifted off to sleep, Barry’s arm wrapped securely around me, I knew that this was just the beginning. The beginning of something wild, something fierce, something undeniably, uncontrollably us.