This is a sequel to Springtime at the Paradise.

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"Remember that heavy petting we had last May at Loew's Paradise?" My girlfriend Michelle Hanley asked me that as we sat in one of the lounges at the City College of New York.

"Petting? I'd call what we did mutual masturbation. We both came, obviously."

She laughed at that, "Yeah, I was using a 1950s euphemism."

"It actually, I think, covered a whole range of behaviors, from fondling through the clothes to literally, as I said, jerking each other off."

"Well, with us, it was definitely the latter!"

She was referring to a stunt we had pulled off in May of that year. We had both been near the end of our sophomore terms in that spring of 1975. While giving her a tour of my old neighborhoods in The Bronx, we had passed the Loew's Paradise theater on the Grand Concourse. By that time the old 4,000-seat venue had been split into a triplex.

While we stood outside, I had explained how empty the place usually was during afternoon showings. Michelle had a taste for interesting erotic hi-jinks, and she suggested we go inside and see how much we could get away with.

It turned out that we could get away with quite a lot. There were only a handful of other patrons in the auditorium, and they all sat near the front; we choose seats in the next to last row. While The Day of the Locust played on screen, we indulged in that very heavy petting as Michelle had called it.

Michelle pleasured me first. While the opening credits rolled, she lifted her blouse, unhooked her bra and let me stroke her breasts. In 1950s terms, that would be "under the clothes but above the waist" - something guys of that era might consider a pretty good achievement. Then she undid my pants and took out my erect cock. She held the base and stroked my shaft with her other hand. She used some hand cream - she happened to have a tube of it in her purse.

She was definitely a girl who was well-rehearsed in wanking a guy to a climax, and within a few minutes I spurted upwards. I tried to turn and get most of it on the empty seat to my right, but some cum did splatter down onto my lap.

After that, it was her turn. She was wearing a skirt that day, so there was easy access to her crotch. She put her hand into her panties to stroke her clitoris, while I used one of mine to finger-fuck her. I was impressed at how quiet she was during her orgasm. She only voiced a slight peep; none of the other patrons further forward could hear her.

We had lost track of the movie completely, of course, and we simply left to have lunch at a place on the other side of the Concourse. Eventually we did get to see The Day of the Locust at another theater, but that time we concentrated on the film.

Now it was October, and Michelle had another plan, "How about we go up there again and try something more? You said it's usually almost empty on a weekday afternoon."

"All right, what do you mean, 'something more?'"

"I was thinking: if we get down and kneel on the floor, we could get with - you know, actually fucking doggy-style. We'd be below the sightlines."

Of course the horny side of my twenty-year-old self was intrigued by the idea, but I had an innate cautiousness too. "You think that is possible?"

"If the place is like it was the last time - what were there, about five or six other people? And there had to be more than a thousand seats in that unit."

I considered the layout of the Paradise as I remembered it. The balcony had become its own theater, and the main floor had been split into two. It was impossible to tell from the outside which movie was in which section, but all three were quite spacious.

Michelle knew she could easily talk me into these things, "Come on, let's try it. If it really is busier than we expected, then we'll just watch the movie and try some other time." She put her arm around my shoulders. "I'll wear a skirt for easy access of course, and I'll have a surprise pair of panties for you."

After going with her for a year, I thought I was familiar with all of her underwear. "Really, what will they be like?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise."

There was another factor that we didn't bring up. Over the summer we had gone through a rough patch in our relationship, but we had reconciled over the Labor Day weekend. That fall I was trying to regain my earlier optimism about her.

We kissed for a few moments as we sat on our lounge sofa. Then I said, "All right, I'm definitely up for this."

On the appointed day for our escapade we drove up to The Bronx in Michelle's car. As before, we parked it in a garage, but this time we walked directly over to the theater. We hadn't bothered to check the newspaper listings so we stood there for a moment looking at the marquee.

The huge theater had been built in 1929 in what was supposedly a Venetian style, but I'm sure that generations of movie-goers didn't know that and merely thought it was "fancy." The marquee was unusual in that it was flat on the façade rather than projecting out over the sidewalk.

While Michelle looked up I took a moment to check on her. She was a fairly tall girl with straight medium-brown hair and a trim, athletic body. Today she had her steel-rimmed glasses on, although she had recently bought an alternate pair with dark rims.

She was dressed rather modestly with a pullover top, a skirt that came down just above her knees, and plaid knee-socks. I put my arm around her and said, "I see you have your Joanie Coed look today."

She gave me a pretend coy look, "Well, just because we're going to a movie, don't think you can get fresh with me."

"Of course; you know I'm that I'm the perfect gentleman."

"I'm not so sure about that; you've been getting a little forward on recent dates." She looked up again, "So, what are we going to do here?"

Our choices today were Dog Day Afternoon, Three Days of the Condor, and Hearts of the West. I pondered the selection and then chose the first one.

This turned out be in part of the former main floor. That was an advantage, because the room had depth instead of width as the old balcony did. By the time the feature started, there were only four other patrons in there. We were safe and snug far in the back. The screen seemed to be a half-block away.

Like two nice 1950s teenagers we necked for a bit first. I was vaguely aware of Elton John's "Amoreena" playing during the opening credits. As we got to into our make-out session I whispered to her, "So how is this going to go?" I expected that, as before, we would do some "bare tit" next.

She said, "I want you to go down on me first." I hadn't expected that, and she must have sensed my hesitation. "Go ahead; it will be fine; no one can see. And you'll find about those cute panties."

I got down on my knees and she spread her legs. The light from the screen illuminated what I needed to see. Her sheer white panties were of a generous cut but they were, I saw, virtually transparent. I could see right through them to her dark bush.

Michelle said softly, "Like them? To start, please kiss me through them."

I spent some time on that. She leaned back as I pressed my lips and tongue against the cloth, and she ran her fingers through my hair. In a short while the crotch of her underwear was soaked from my mouth and her own pussy juice.

Without saying anything, she reached down and took off her panties; she placed them on the seat to her left. I went back to licking her now bare cunt as she indulged her usual preference, which was rubbing her clitoris with her own fingers.

As this got more intense, she put her legs up and rested her shoes on the seats in front of us. I thought that was a bit risky, but I didn't stop to say anything. Later I found of that Day Dog Afternoon was an engrossing movie from the start and the other patrons had no incentive to ever look away from the screen.

I decided to undo my pants and use one hand to stroke myself; my other hand held one of her thighs up.

I knew she was coming when she starting gyrating her pelvis against my face. She supplied the movement; all I had to do was press my mouth forward. She admirably controlled her voice during her orgasm. I heard a few whimpers and then she collapsed back into her seat.

When she had caught her breath she whispered to me, "You're stiff now, obviously."

"You bet."

"Then let's get to it already."

Michelle got down on all fours, lifted her skirt and presented her behind to me. All I had to do was make a quarter-turn to be in position. Her pussy was very wet and as I guided my cock it easily slipped into her. I held her hips and began to thrust rapidly and deeply.

Normally I would be moaning and engaging in erotic patter with her during intercourse, but I knew I had to control myself. I felt a bit vulnerable because I knew my head was just above the level of the seatbacks. Once I glanced at the screen and saw Al Pacino in a street talking to an older actor who I later found out was Charles Durning.

I knew Michelle liked it too because she moved her hips back to meet me. I was young and aroused and I came quicker than I might have liked. Michelle knew that sometimes I was on a hair-trigger and she would use her hands or mouth to get a shot out of me before the main act of penetration. We hadn't been able to do that now, of course; thus I came in about five minutes. I opened my mouth wide but I made sure that no sound emerged. That required a bit of focus but fortunately I understood what was at stake. If I had yelled, it's possible the other patrons would have just ignored it or laughed it off, but I couldn't take that chance.

I was about to stop pushing when Michelle looked back and whispered, "Keep going; I think I can come again soon." I obliged her, and I knew when her own climax - the second of the day - arrived. She arched her back and pushed hard against me. I felt her hips move up and down. Her body quivered around me, and then she relaxed. In fact, she fell forward and I dropped out of her; she lay prone on the floor.

I got back in my seat and just sat there trying to recover. Al Pacino was still in the street, arguing with the older guy and some cops in uniform. I managed a quip, "Michelle, that floor is not the cleanest one in the city."

She got up and started hugging and kissing me. Then she said, "Please spank me; I've been a very bad girl."

"We can't do that here; there would be too much noise; you know, from the slaps." I thought that we had already accomplished quite a bit here at the Paradise and I was reluctant to push our luck any further.

"Just tap me then; playact it, please!" She didn't wait for a reply; she lifted her skirt and then got over both my lap and the seat divider.

I tapped her bare ass but I tried to be careful about the sound I was making. She talked softly to me, "I'm such a slut; I fuck guys I meet in movie theaters."

I improvised a reply, "Yes, you are a little strumpet, and you need to be punished."

It was very much like our usual spanking games, except normally Michelle liked it good and hard. I had found that I too liked to be the bottom, and that she could put on a fair dominatrix act. She would invent lines like, you are a very dirty boy; you masturbate all the time. You jerk off thinking of other girls, but you think about me too - I just know it.

Those scenes were not going to happen today. After a bit I said, "Michelle, it's time to wind this down." She got back into her seat and we hugged and kissed some more.

"Paul, I love you."

"I love you too, sweetie."

"And I always like when I taste my cunt on your mouth."

Up on the screen something was happening in an interior that looked like a bank. Of course, it's about a bank robbery; I knew that much.

Michelle moved back a bit and said, "Wow, we really pulled off some great stuff today!"

"I know; it's was great." I almost suggested that we do this again at the Paradise, but I held back. It was way too early for that decision.

Instead I said, "We're not actually going to watch the rest of this, are we?"

"Of course not; I have no idea what's going on in it. Let's get something to eat." I knew she would say that; we had caught The Day of the Locust at another theater about five weeks after our previous interlude here. Then she glanced down, "My, your cum is coming out of me, I mean all over the seat."

"Remember the last time when I shot off into the seat next to me? Well, anyway, some of it landed there." I wondered how much semen got into the mohair or whatever of those old theater seats over the years, especially those in the back and in the balcony.

Michelle held up her panties, "Did you like these?"

"You bet. Where did you get them?"

"On Orchard Street; it's easy. They come in other colors too, like black and purple. I'll buy some more."

Outside we blinked at the bright afternoon. I always felt disoriented after an escapade like this, including sex in automobiles. It wasn't easy to transition into the real world. I looked at Michelle and she seemed jangled too. I said, "I wish we were in your apartment and we could just lounge in bed." Or on the sofa, if that was where the act happened to occur.

She replied, "I know what you mean, but we're not there, are we?" I took her hand and for a moment we watched the busy traffic on the wide boulevard. I wondered how long it had been since each driver had been indulging in sex; maybe some were coming back from "nooners."

I asked, "Do you want to go to that burger place on Fordham?" That was about two blocks away.

"No, they only have that counter, and it's cramped it there. Krum's has table service." That was a luncheonette / ice cream parlor across the street.

"With a name like Krum's, it's got to be good." Then I realized that I had used that joke before but she didn't call me on it.

When we sat across from each other looking at our menus I commented, "You look kind of - tousled is the word I think."

Michelle squinted at me, "And what does that mean?"

"You know what it means."

She whispered, "That I've been well-fucked?"

I laughed, "So how do I look?"

"Like your usual self."

When our food came I was feeling less jittery and in a more expansive mood. "I bet some famous people have been in that theater. Like Don DeMucci, he was . . ."

"I know, Dion and the Belmonts."

"Well, Belmont - the area - is just down the hill here."

"You've told me that too, at least once."

I said, "I have? I guess we've become an established couple. We're repeating our stories now."

I suddenly felt uncomfortable remembering how she seemed to break-up with me over the summer and then came back. Is she actually still a bit antsy - tired of me? - and considering an exit strategy? She seemed enthusiastic enough in the theater, but I had learned already, from the girl I knew before Michelle, that sexual attraction wasn't a guarantee of longevity.

Rather than dwell on that, I pontificated about another prominent Bronxite. "Stanley Kubrick too; for a while as a teenager he lived up on the Concourse here. He must have seen movies in these theaters.

"You did say something about him - Taft High School I think."

"Right, he did go there."

Then she said, "How about Edgar Allan Poe?"

Poe's last home had been in a cottage that still stood about two blocks to the north. Of course he had died in 1848. For a second I was confused and then I realized that Michelle was kidding me.

I tried to remain deadpan as I said, "Oh, I don't think they had movies in his day."

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