“This film is more than juvenile; it’s juvenile delinquent.”
Doris chuckled to herself as she went about making breakfast. The portable television on the buffet was tuned to the local morning show. Sylvia Swift, the show’s very blonde, very intense entertainment reporter, was presenting one of her scathing reviews of a movie she didn’t like. She found a lot to dislike about this movie, a low-budget, indie film called “The Magic Watch.”
Doris crunched her cereal while Sylvia Swift expertly trashed the film. Evidently it was intended as a sexy comedy. The plot involved a young man who inherits a magic pocketwatch. He uses it to hypnotize and seduce a succession of beautiful women. Doris could understand how Ms Swift, the champion of deep, artful cinema, would not be impressed by that plotline.
“This so-called comedy is the first big-screen release from an outfit called Mesmer Films, whose specialty is video soft porn featuring a hypnotism theme,” the reviewer concluded. “Let’s hope it’s also the last. The director, a complete unknown by the name of Hugh Mussobay, is also credited as the producer and the script writer. That’s at least two jobs more than he can handle...”
Doris finished her coffee and carried the dishes to the sink. She glanced at her watch: time to get to work.
As she reached over to turn off the television, the show’s regular hosts were bantering with Sylvia Swift. “Thanks, Sylvia, for warning me about that one,” said the co-host, a blandly handsome man with a giant smile. “And you say The Magic Watch is playing only at the Riverwood Theatre?”
“Unfortunately, yes, Bill,” the attractive blonde replied. She was wearing an elegant black suit. “At least until the owners wake up and decide to screen a motion picture truly worth paying money to see. This film is an insult to that fine old movie house.”
Doris turned off the set. She knew the Riverwood Theatre well. She walked by it every day on her way to the train. She picked up her briefcase and headed out the door.
Doris was reading the Times in her favourite coffee-shop one evening when her friend Gwen and her boyfriend dropped by. Gwen was a pretty girl, with curly dark hair and big, expressive eyes. She drew up a chair beside her boyfriend. She and Doug were just passing by on their way to the theatre, she explained.
“What’s the flick?”
Doug said, “It’s called ‘The Magic Watch’. It’s playing at the Riverwood. Have you seen it?”
Doris set down her cup. “No, I haven’t, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to. Guys, I think you may be in for a major disappointment. I heard Sylvia Swift’s review of that film. She made it sound pretty dreadful.”
“Oh no, it’s a hoot!” Gwen cried. “An absolute riot!” She had one arm around Doug’s neck.
“You’ve already seen it?”
“Twice! We liked it so much the first time we decided to go back a couple of days later. It grows on you, you know? We’re going to go see it again tonight.”
Doris was frankly surprised. The same film three times in a week? Sylvia Swift, whose opinion Doris trusted, said this film was childish, sexist tripe. Both Gwen and Doug insisted that it was simply great entertainment. “Besides,” Gwen added, grinning, “it’s fun to make out in the back of the theatre.” She turned to give Doug a long, intense kiss. So long, in fact, that Doris started to look around to see if anyone was watching.
“Hey you two,” she interrupted, “Maybe you should get a room.”
“Sorry,” Doug said, pushing his girlfriend away for a moment.
Gwen snapped her fingers. “Say, I have an idea. Why don’t you come with us?”
“Oh, no, no thanks,” Doris said quickly. “You two run along. I just want to read the paper and spend some time at home.” She didn’t want to be a third wheel when Doug and Gwen were obviously in such a physical mood. Gwen hadn’t let go of her boyfriend since they walked in.
Gwen slid her chair over closer to Doug’s. “Doris,” she said, suddenly serious, “you need to get out sometime. It would do you good. Please don’t tell me you’re still mooning over Roger.” While she spoke she lifted one leg and casually hooked it over Doug’s right knee. She was dressed in a blue sweater with stripes across the chest, coupled with a short navy skirt and matching hose.
“I’m not mooning,” Doris countered, a little defensively. “Especially over Roger. I am totally over him. But you two are on a date. I’d just be in the way. Besides, it’s the middle of a heavy week for me.”
Privately, Doris was wondering about Gwen. The way she had her legs spread was hardly ladylike, especially given the miniskirt she was wearing. Doris wondered briefly if she had already been drinking, something other than coffee. While Doris was speaking, Doug dropped one hand to Gwen’s thigh and began to stroke up and down in a casually possessive way.
It took some effort to talk them out of bringing Doris along. “OK, but you gotta promise me you’ll see the Magic Watch sometime,” Gwen conceded. While they were discussing it, Doris watched Doug’s hand slide up under the high hem of Gwen’s skirt.
Doris said something noncommittal. Doug looked at his watch. “Listen, baby, we had better get going. The film starts in fifteen minutes.”
Gwen looked momentarily disappointed as Doug took his hand away, but not at all concerned about being addressed as “baby.” She got to her feet and smoothed down her short skirt. They said good night and headed out.
Doris watched them go, wondering. Gwen was wearing black slip-ons with stylish block heels. Doris couldn’t remember Gwen ever wearing heels without complaining about them. She was walking half in front of Doug, keeping her body close to his. Doug was sort of steering her along with one hand on her bum. They stopped outside the coffee shop to share a kiss and an embrace which stopped about two shades shy of public indecency.
The sun was just setting the next evening when Doris found herself walking past the Riverwood Theatre. It had been a long day. She glanced at the gaudy posters in the window. The title of the film was sprawled in big letters across an image of a harmless-looking man swinging a big watch on a chain, with images of wide-eyed women all around. The background of the poster was a shiny black and white spiral, made to look like it was moving by some printer’s trick. “Held Over” said the banners across the bottom.
Doris stopped to look at the posters for a moment, briefcase in hand. She was amused. She had fully expected the film to close in a few days, given the reviews it had been getting. A couple of her friends at the office had been to see The Magic Watch. They both insisted it was great fun.
Doris looked up at the marquee. The early showing would begin soon. She studied the garish poster, with it’s oddly attractive spiral. She could use a little mindless relaxation. She shrugged and joined the trickle of people entering the theatre.
Well, that wasn’t all that bad, Doris decided, stepping out of the theatre a few hours later. Quite entertaining really. She swung her briefcase as she walked the few blocks to her townhouse.
The Magic Watch was neither high budget nor high concept, but it was funny and fun. The plot was simple. There were many detailed scenes of the lead character swinging his grandfather’s pocketwatch back and forth, back and forth, while chanting stereotypical hypnotic things to some impossibly gorgeous bimbo. The scenes always ended in hot sex.
The film was so dumb that Doris was surprised that she enjoyed it. It did get dull in places. When she looked around the half-filled theatre, Doris noticed other people staring at the screen blankly, evidently bored as well.
The auditorium was half full, not a bad crowd for a B movie on a weeknight. The theatre employees had slipped into the back to watch the film too. Even the kids from the concession stand and the girl that sold tickets at the door were there. Doris was puzzled by that. Wouldn’t they have seen the film about a dozen times by now? The girls were wearing new uniforms that featured rather brief A-line skirts of the same style that Gwen had been wearing the other night. They seemed to be having great fun showing off and flirting with all the guys.
Doris took her time strolling home, reviewing some of the better scenes from the movie in her mind. The scene where the young man tried to hypnotize his girlfriend and accidentally hypnotized her mother too was pretty good, even if the “mother” looked barely 20. The sex scene that followed was a little gratuitous. But very hot.
Doris arrived home. She kicked off her shoes and threw her briefcase on the sofa. It was too late now to look at those files, and she was hardly in the mood after that silly movie. At least now she could make conversation with Gwen next time she saw her.
A few days later, Doris stood on the sidewalk wondering which was more foolish: that she was going to see The Magic Watch again, or that she was willing to stand in line to see it again. For such a dumb little flick, it was surprisingly hard to forget. All week long she had found herself remembering one scene or another. The film kept drifting back to her at work, at home, even when she lay in bed. The memories always made her smile.
The movie would have been easier to dismiss if friends and office mates hadn’t kept talking about it. It seemed that half the office had been to see The Magic Watch, many of them twice. Finally Doris couldn’t stand the distraction any more. She had to go back and see what all the fuss was about.
It was Tuesday, just under a week since Doris had seen the film the first time. She was a trifle surprised to see a short queue waiting for the late showing, on what was traditionally the slowest day of the week. The line was mostly young couples; perhaps the word was out that this was a good date movie. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood. The couple in front of Doris were arm in arm, passing the time whispering to each other and trading kisses. It was a little embarrassing.
Eventually the early show ended. A stream of people tumbled out the doors of the cinema, laughing and talking. Doris watched a handsome couple stroll away. The girl was wearing a pair of expensive flared jeans, very tight around the waist. She was leaning on her date while he gently stroked one finger up and down the crack of her ass. Doris sighed. It had been six months since she had received that kind of attention from a man. She thought of Roger and her mood hardened.
There was another wait inside at the concession stand. This was definitely a popcorn movie. There were brochures on display in the lobby for a new line of clothing, inspired by the film. Predictably, the brand was called “Hugh Mussobay” as if the film director was also a designer. Doris shook her head. Talk about cross-marketing.
She picked up one of the brochures and flipped through it. The clothing was mostly the kind of sexy, brassy things that all the women in the movie seemed to wear. Doris couldn’t imagine herself in that kind of stuff. It looked too much like club clothes. She stuffed the brochure in her purse.
At the concession stand Doris was served by a happy blonde in a skimpy miniskirt who got her order wrong, twice. The girl just giggled indifferently. When Doris finally got her large popcorn and soft drink she discovered the ditz had given her the wrong change. She would have sorted out the error, but the popcorn girl had already turned her attention to the next person in line, a young man whom she was treating like a visiting dignitary. Doris carried her snacks into the darkened theatre.
I really shouldn’t be doing this, Doris scolded herself, a few days later. Sneaking out of work in the middle of the afternoon to see a second-rate movie was not exactly a career-building move. She felt like a schoolgirl cutting classes. But the matinee was the only time she could see The Magic Watch without waiting in line.
Besides, she needed a break. She hadn’t been focusing well on her work. She was too distracted this week. Scenes from the flick kept coming back to her, in all their cheesy glory. Again and again she had found herself sitting at her desk, blankly replaying the film in her mind and smiling softly. “Watch the watch,” the hero kept repeating to one busty babe after another, as if you could really hypnotize someone that way. Doris couldn’t help grinning every time she thought of it.
Doris wasn’t the only one who was loosing time because of that silly movie. Many of her friends at the office had seen it, often on Doris’s recommendation. They were always dropping by to laugh about it and compare notes. Their supervisor probably should have been discouraging such time wasting during work hours, but her daughter had dragged her to see The Magic Watch a couple of times too; she was content to let the latest fad play itself out.
The theatre staff had changed their uniforms again. All the girls were dressed like characters from the movie. The ticket-seller was The Housewife, the girls at the concession stand were all dressed as The Cheerleader, and the ushers were variations on The Office Worker. They looked great, though Doris doubted many women went to work in skirts that short.
She couldn’t be sure though. The day before, one of the bolder secretaries at Doris’s office had come to work in a grey-pinstripe suit with a tight skirt that barely extended past the bottom of the jacket. It had caused a lot of comment around the office. Not to mention a lot of staring male co-workers. Samantha said she got the outfit at one of the boutiques carrying Hugh Mussobay clothing. She decided to wear it to work just once—it made her feel delightfully wicked.
The young woman who took Doris’s ticket (dressed as The Girlfriend) explained that the outfits were a promotion for the film. Doris reflected that this film hardly needed promoting. The girl was laughing as she spoke, while half-heartedly dodging a young usher who was trying to grope her behind.
The Magic Watch was still enjoyable, even if by this time Doris knew the plot by heart. She anticipated her favourite scenes. She marvelled at how the women went blissfully blank-faced whenever the hero swung that stupid watch in front of them. She tried practicing that look but she couldn’t stop giggling.
There was a lot of making out going on in the theatre. One couple across from her was being quite shameless. Doris wondered why the ushers didn’t stop it. She looked to the back of the hall, where the theatre staff were watching the film. A male usher was standing by the doors, with one of the micro-skirted usherettes in his arms. She was kissing him about the face and neck while they half-watched the movie, slowly rubbing one leg against his. Doris turned back around, grinning. Kids.
Unfortunately, her enjoyment of the film was being increasingly eroded by the demands of her bladder. Too much coffee that morning, she supposed. She waited until after the scene with the policewoman, one of her favorites. It began with the cop pulling the hero over for speeding, but ended with him pumping her from behind after she voluntarily handcuffed herself to the door handle of her cruiser. Doris had difficulty believing that female police officers wore knee-boots and lace stockings beneath their uniforms.
She slipped out to the washroom and took care of business. She was just getting up to leave when sounds of commotion from the next cubicle caught her ear. She heard breathy whispers, gasps and shuffling noises. Intrigued, she glanced down, under the partition. A high-heeled shoe dangled in the air above a pair of men’s loafers, half covered by shorts and crumpled pants.
Doris drew in her breath. There were two people next door, obviously one of them a man. And they were doing it! The woman must have been kneeling on the toilet or something. Doris could hear her panting breath; she could see his legs flex forward and back. The old hardwood floor began to creak with a steady, building rhythm.
Doris hesitated, unsure what to do. The couple next door were clearly not aware she was there. Overcome by curiosity, she listened for a moment. “Hurry Jackie, hurry!” the woman whispered. The creaking began to go faster.
Doris bit her lip. This was more exciting than she could have imagined. She felt her own pulse accelerate. Slowly she sat back down on the toilet seat. Her skirt and underwear were already pulled down. It was so easy just to slip one hand down, between her legs, into her already moistening pussy. It felt marvellous.
The action next door was building steadily faster. There was an unexpected bang on the partition when they changed position. Doris jumped, but her fingers never stopped. “Fuck me, Jackie!” the woman cried, louder this time. Yesssss, fuck her Jackie, Doris agreed, fuck the living daylights out of her. She slid another finger inside herself. She leaned back against the wall and used her other hand to massage her breasts through her blouse. Oh lord that felt good. Fuck her Jackie!
The action next door became frantic. Doris could hear both parties huffing and groaning. The woman moved again, bumping the partition with one leg. Something fell to the floor.
Doris looked down, still stroking herself eagerly, to see a high-heeled pump lying on the floor. It had bounced across into her cubicle. The lovers next door were oblivious.
She reached down and picked up the shoe. It was brand new, and very stylish, in dark blue with white trim, bearing a broad, curved heel about four inches high. The soles had white platforms, no more than an inch. Doris turned it over in her hand. I could almost wear that to work, she decided.
She noticed the label, written in flowing script on the inside sole: Hugh Mussobay. The woman next door squealed. Doris felt the heat inside her grow even stronger. Without thinking about what she was doing, she brushed the heel clean on her skirt and then inserted it, slowly and sensuously, into her wet snatch.
It was perfect. She began to stroke with the shoe, in and out, in and out, brushing delicately against her clitoris on each stroke, gasping and bucking and stroking in synchrony with the wildly thrashing couple next door. It was as if the shoe was fucking her. Hugh Mussobay was fucking her. The movie was fucking her.
There were noises next door, an especially loud, gutteral, groan from the man, then the woman’s voice screamed, “Yes Jackie, yes, yes YES YES YES!” as she thumped on the wall, coming like a volcanic eruption. Doris knew she was coming because she was coming too, and hard. She barely managed to stifle her own scream as she doubled over on the toilet seat, awash in spasms of delight.
As she drifted down from her climax, Doris leaned back against the wall again, breathing hard. She looked at the shoe in her hand. Still groggy, she lifted it to her mouth and carefully sucked off her cream. Then she carefully replaced it beneath the partition.
The couple next door was hurriedly getting dressed. A delicate hand appeared and snatched the fallen shoe. There was more whispering, then the sound of the door to the cubicle creaking open and footsteps receding. Doris waited a few minutes so she wouldn’t be right behind them. She returned to the film just in time to catch the housewife scene.
Emerging from the theatre into the late afternoon sunshine, Doris found herself casting glances at other women’s feet, trying to find the lovers in the washroom. Quite a number of patrons were wearing a similar style of shoe so she couldn’t be sure. They seemed to come in a variety of colours. Doris thought they looked very attractive.
She briefly considered stopping off at a Hugh Mussobay boutique on her way back to work. Just to see what they had, of course. She took out the brochure that was still in her purse and studied it for a moment. The clothes were classy, but still too hot for daywear, Samantha’s new style notwithstanding.
Doris looked at her watch. Enough foolishness for one day: it was high time she got back to the office. She put the brochure back in her purse.
The nearest Hugh Mussobay boutique turned out to be just a few blocks away, tucked away in a corner of a local mall. It was both surprisingly large and surprisingly crowded for the middle of a workday. The decor was glamorous and glitzy.
“Hi! I’m Mandy!” a bright voice said. “Can I help you find something?” The girl was all dazzling smile and eagerness. She was dressed in a bouncy, bright red outfit consisting of a tight, sleeveless top, matching pleated mini and candystriped platform running shoes.
Doris put down the velvety stetch-pants she had been fingering. She smiled nervously. “No, no, that’s all right. I’m just browsing.”
“No problem,” said Mandy. Her smile had not dimmed. “Browse all you like. Take a look around the store, we have lots of great stuff!”
“Thank you, uh, I’ll just—”
“There are basically four style lines,” Mandy went on. “We call them the Homemaker, the Professional, the Debutante and the Schoolgirl. They’re sorta aimed at different age groups. It’s all wonderful things, though! Look, I’m wearing the Schoolgirl!” She flung out her arms happily and pirouetted a couple of times, dancing on the toes of her garish shoes. The little skirt flew up around her sleek young hips. Doris noted that her thong panties were also red—and rather skimpy for such a short-short skirt.
Doris recognized the outfit as a variant on the Cheerleaders in the Magic Watch. “Oh, you’ve seen it?” Mandy asked, interrupting her little dance. “Isn’t that just the coolest movie!”
“Uh, yes, actually, I’ve been to see it... a couple of times,” Doris confessed. “It’s so much fun, I keep going back.”
“Oh, and sooo sexy, too,” Mandy agreed, her voice softening. “I’ve been to see it, like, maybe a dozen times.” She giggled like a child with a secret. “You know what? We get free passes to the flick just for working here! I just love it!”
They spent a few minutes discussing the movie and talking about their favourite scenes, until Mandy was called away by another customer. “Go ahead and browse,” the girl said, turning to leave. “Take all the time you want.” She looked at Doris critically. “You look like The Professional to me, but you could try The Debutante too.”
Doris passed a little time just browsing. The boutique sold an extensive line of fashion clothing. The Hugh Mussobay signature was quietly sown into the label of each item. Oddly, there were no pictures about of Hugh Mussobay himself, unlike the majority of self-promoting clothing designers.
The Professional line was a sexed-up version of good working clothes. Doris found herself examining different items in terms of their effect on the men she knew. How would the section manager react, the guy who was always checking out her legs, if she showed up at work in one of these skirts? Or Derek, the young computer technician who had a bit of a crush on her—wouldn’t he love it if she came to work wearing this?
Thinking about it made Doris feel pleasantly warm. She thought about her pushy landlord, or the aggressive vice-president who seemed to love ordering everybody around. Wouldn’t they notice her wearing one of these spandex confections! Her thermostat slid from warm to hot. She checked to see if any of the dressing rooms were vacant.
After just browsing the skirts and dresses for a while, Doris moved on to just browsing the accessories and lingerie. She did try a few things on, just for fun. The changing rooms were decorated with publicity posters from the movie. Invariably, they showed one or more big-chested beauties smiling vapidly as the hero swung the pocketwatch in front of them.
Thinking about the movie kept Doris in a cheerful mood. She was secretly proud that despite Mandy’s assessment she could wear The Debutante line very well, and even looked hot in some Schoolgirl outfits.
When her feet got tired from just browsing the clothing, Doris hauled all her packages over to the shoe section and just browsed there for a while. It was easier to indulge one of the comfortable chairs and let a bubbly Mandy look-alike show her the various styles. None of the footwear was what one would call sensible. Still, some of the shoes and boots looked terrifically good on her feet. With all the just browsing, Doris never did make it back to the office that afternoon.
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