The pink neon sign glowed in the darkness just off the interstate. In tall letters, it said: "Porn Palace." I'd always wondered what was inside.
It was a vinyl-sided building about the size of a fast food restaurant. As many as ten cars were parked in the gravel lot at the strangest hours. A couple of tractor-trailers would be around back where the light barely reached. I never saw anybody coming or going, even though street lamps kept the parking lot well lit.
Porn Palace was less than two miles from my house, so I had to pass it just about every time I headed toward the city. But I never did stop. Sure, I was curious. But it looked so seedy, maybe even a little dangerous. I'm no prude, but going to a place called Porn Palace was just a little too much for me.
I'll never forget the night I changed my mind. Shortly before sophomore year, I was at a house party when my friend, Ted, told me about the job he worked when he was away at college.
"I'm a jizz-mopper at a porn shop – a place called Big Richard's Pleasure Emporium," he yelled over a thumping bass drum.
"What's a jizz-mopper?" I yelled back.
"Come on over here, and I'll tell you," he said. "You're gonna love this."
I followed Ted onto the patio and closed the sliding glass door behind us. The booming stereo and screaming voices faded away.
"All right, get this," he said. "Guys come into this seedy, little shop downtown. Out front, it's lingerie, dildos and dirty magazines. But in back are all these little booths about the size of a dressing room. Each one has a TVs. If you plunk a token into the black box, a porno movie pops onto the screen. The customers either jerk off or get a blow job or whatever. After they bust a load, it's my job to mop it up."
I didn't say a word. My face must've been totally expressionless because Ted said, "I know, you probably think it's sick."
"Yeah," I said. "I guess."
But the truth was that I found it totally erotic. Meeting a stranger in a strange place and performing strange sex acts was exactly the kind of adventure I needed.
The whole party seemed to fall away from me. Ted kept talking, but I didn't hear a word he was saying. All I could think about was Porn Palace and what might be awaiting me inside.
"Um, Ted," I said. "I'm not feeling well. I've got to go."
I should explain something here: I don't want to brag, but I'm a hottie. I have 36 tits, a 24 waist and 32 hips. With my long, blonde hair, guys have said that I look like a young Jenna Jameson. I could've found a hook-up at the party. I'm quite sure Ted wanted to fuck me. But I wanted a little something different from your average one-night-stand, something a little naughtier, something another frat boy just couldn't provide. So, I decided to leave.
I told my friend, Tina, that I was going. Tina said she was cool and that she'd catch a ride home with someone else.
My car couldn't drive fast enough. A whole new world had been introduced to me. I couldn't wait to see it. My heart skipped as I hit the interstate and pushed the speedometer up to 90 mph. It was about 12:30 a.m. when I exited and hung a left toward the pink neon lights.
I parked near the front door and took a deep breath. Here I was. I watched through the glass door as the cashier rang up a man in a Polo shirt. But I couldn't see what he was buying or what was on the shelves. I still had no idea what awaited me on the other side. But I had to do this.
I unbuttoned my red blouse to just barely expose my lacy, black bra. Then I fixed my make-up in the mirror, making sure the eyeliner was extra thick. For my lipstick, I went with the brightest, reddest shade in my purse. Just before opening my car door, I took another breath.
A bell on the door jingled when I opened it. Everyone in the store turned to look. Almost all of the customers were men, maybe ten of them. They looked from aisles of dildos, shelves of magazines and racks of videos. I was the only unattached girl in the place. The only other female was an older woman at the lingerie rack with her boyfriend.
"ID, ma'am," the clerk said.
I pulled out my driver's license and handed it over the counter. The clerk looked at it for two seconds and handed it back. This guy had four rings in his right eyebrow and flames tattooed on his wrist and forearm. He didn't seem to give two shits about anything. His laid-back attitude it feel like all the eyeballs in the store had turned away from me.
"Thanks," he said. "Anything I can help you with."
"Uh, yeah," I said. "Do you have video booths?"
"Yeah," he said. "Twelve tokens for ten bucks."
"OK," I said and then pulled a ten-dollar bill out of my wallet.
The clerk handed me a cup of tokens and said the "video arcade" was on the other side of the dildos. The booths were in a long, white hallway with fluorescent lights and a linoleum floor. It looked like the changing room at Wal-Mart. Five booths were on each side of the hallway. Most of the doors were closed. It was tough to tell if the muffled moans and groans on the other side were from videos or the real thing. I found an open booth at the end of the hall and closed the door behind me.
The place was about the size of an average dressing room. A wadded up Kleenex sat in the corner beneath a bench. The smell of cum was unmistakable. I plunked a token into the black box and watched the TV come alive with a close-up of a chick giving head. I unbuttoned my blouse all the way, folded my arms and pinched my nipples. My pussy was quickly getting wet. The TV snapped off after about a minute, so I fed my 11 remaining tokens to the machine.
That's when a soft tapping came at the door. I cracked it open and peeked outside. It was the clerk.
"What?" I whispered.
"How much," he whispered back.
