the lusty lady.


it was around eleven o'clock, and there was nothing left for a couple of single guys to do in a big city. sure, we could strike out somewhere else, but who wanted to waste time doing that? i thought about the chris rock skit, the one where he talks about how there's always that one guy in a group of guys who, when they're at a club, will strike out once, and then say, man, these girls are stuck up! let's go to a strip club.

let's go to the lusty lady, my friend said. it has been well over a year since i'd seen actual boobs not on a television screen, so i was on board with his suggestion. plus, i heard that the lusty lady was closing, so i wanted to see what it was all about before it was gone for good. dude, i'm so excited for this, i said. my friend said to calm the hell down, that it wasn't what i was expecting. it's not a strip club, he said. he continued, you go in, you put some quarters in, a screen goes up, and then they're looking at you, and it's awkward. and i think dudes jack off in the stalls, he said. still though, i thought, boobs.

my friend and i went into the lusty lady, and i took out my i.d., but the clerk didn't even bother looking at it. he was a black guy, and he told us there was another change machine inside. i got $5 worth of quarters, and then i went into a stall. i popped a quarter in, and the screen went up, just as i had expected. there were two white girls and a black girl, fully nude in a small pink room with mirrors. some of the stalls had two-way mirrors, so i could sometimes see myself in the mirror in the pink room.

the girls danced a little bit, shook their asses, and they had piercings on their nipples and vaginas, and they had tattoos. all kinds of shit went through my head. boobs. this is somebody's daughter. this is fucking sad. god, this is awesome. i'm going to hell. why is this peep booth so reminiscent of a church confessional? remember when i was plugging in quarters to play games at circus circus or at the arcade? what the fuck happened to those days? is this all that life is going to be? plugging in quarters for instant gratification? god, i'm depressed. holy shit, she has some big areolas.

i watched the girl with short hair and big boobs dance for a long time. she had a tattoo of a rose or something on her belly, and she wore long striped socks. she got up real close to the window, and for a little while, she just sat there. i wondered what she was thinking. did she like doing this? most women would say no, a lot of guys would say maybe, but who knew what she really thought of her life and what was really going on. only thing i could think about was how i missed being close to someone, and the terrible symbolism of always having a one-way mirror in front of me. men like myself were willing to pay for things like this, and a lot of women had no other option but to subject themselves to it. that's just the way it went.

i told my friend that the ten dollar booth was open, and did he want to go in? yeah, i wanna do it, he said. i stood outside the stall, and i listened to him talk to the stripper, but i couldn't hear what she was saying. he wore headphones. i'm good, he said, how are you? this is my first time here. i heard you guys are closing, that sucks. whatever you wanna do. wow. jesus. you really have a beautiful body. this is the best friday night ever! outside the stall, i was cracking up. people walked past, giving me strange looks, and i felt so immature. hell, i am immature, so what did it even matter.

there was a guy with a mop going from stall to stall, and i knew i was supposed to disgusted, but i wasn't, not really. probably because i'd already reached the point of disgust a long time ago.

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