Creature Feature

The movie theatre was almost empty by the time I dared to stand up. I’d waited while all the young men filed out from the rows of black leatherette seats, watching them step over discarded buckets of popcorn and empty soda cups. Some were talking excitedly about the film; others were already immersed in the glowing screens of their phones. I studied the exit, feeling incredibly conspicuous: I was the only one still seated and the only middle-aged lesbian in the room.

When I was confident that the rest of the audience had left, and while the attendant was clearing up from the rows behind me, I gradually eased myself upright. As I’d suspected, the shift in position made the urgent ache in my loins even more acute. I glanced back at my seat, fully expecting to see a trail of my juices, and quickly walked away.

With my head down, I retraced my steps out of the movie theatre, onto the street, and to the bus stop that would take me home. I hoped this bus would be on time. It was because of the earlier, late-running one that I’d missed the blockbuster comedy I’d originally intended to see. When the cashier had asked if I wanted a ticket for another movie instead, I’d glanced at the board behind him and read off the first name on the list, deciding that taking a gamble on the unknown was far preferable to going back to my empty apartment.

By the...