She pulled the car into the back parking lot, tucking it away in the furthest corner away from the view of the street. She looked around nervously before putting on her sunglasses, looking at herself in her vanity mirror. She fluffed her hair, smacking her lips as her heart hammered and raced in her chest. She had to take deep breaths to slow her pulse, trying to calm herself. She knew she shouldn't be here, doing this. It was a betrayal to her husband and her family. Everything that she had managed to build up in her life.
And right now, none of that mattered. That was the sad truth. Her kids, her husband, none of them mattered at the moment. This had been building up for years, from vanilla sex to pecks on the cheek, as inertia set in and solidified into nothingness. Her soul, or lack of one, had built up a rage, a need, a primal want that couldn't be denied. And so she found herself outside the adult theater, one which she hadn't been inside for nearly 10 years. Where an old "friend" had brought her, then left her, drunk. She had been dating Paul then, now her husband, and she had "gone out of town", to meet up with her friend. The one who knew the darkness within her, that knew of her abuse, that touched parts of her that she hated, and yet made her feel more alive than anything else. When she woke, defiled by who knows how many men, she was thankful that somehow she hadn't gotten any serious STDs but she had caught something. A daughter. Paul had been so happy that he quickly proposed. No one would ever know it wasn't his.
And now, she was here again, called to it by some broken piece of her that couldn't feel love from a kiss but somehow a gang rape could give her value and fill that emptiness inside her. She was here again, weak, hating herself, but not enough to stop and not open the door and head inside. She'd been obsessing over it for weeks, the thought fixated in her mind, unable to escape it even in her sleep. She paced and adjusted her dress. Short, loose, with nothing under. No bra or panties, just her sluttiest heels. Easy access for a mom who couldn't cope with the banality of her life anymore and needed to escape it, even if only for a few hours.
She walked inside the store and her nose was immediately assaulted by the stale smell of sweat, sex, and cum. A sour cloud wafted from the cigarette the man behind the counter was smoking. She wanted to turn back, some decent part of her screamed to turn around, but she smothered it, wishing for it to die. She needed this. She smiled at him behind her sunglasses, handed him cash and her ID, and asked for singles to use in the booths. He smiled a sickening smile, ignoring her face and looking at her chest. Then he nodded towards the back where they were to be found. In the same place as 10 years ago, screens waited for her, beckoning. She felt her wetness, heat emanating against the cool air between her legs. She needed this.
