Derrick, like most, did not know what to expect upon his arrival to The One Stop Shop. Partly because all who enter are made to sign a non-disclosure agreement before being granted access beyond the front room. Miss Margarette, a heavier woman in her forties with a vaguely southern accent, makes sure of this, and despite her Dolly Parton esque figure, has the strength to remove even the most unruly of clients.
The door opened with the chime of a small bell, alerting Miss Margarette, who smiled at Derrick. His friends had sent him, he said. How nice, Miss Margarette replied. She proceeded to ask Derrick to sign the NDA, to which he asked why a 'one stop shop' would need an NDA. Miss Margarette, of course, said she could not ND, per the A. She laughed every time she said that, despite the years of use. She tapped a long manicured nail on the paper and he consented. You see, this is The One Stop Shop, not a one stop shop, she said as she stood from her little stool and walked over to open the door for him. He didn't understand, of course, but would soon. Derrick, I would later learn, worked in sales, so he knew a bit of the game Miss Margarette had played on him, allowing the curiosity to play on his nerves. He chose to give in, he would insist.
She held the door open for him, and he stepped inside. Into my world. He looked over his shoulder as the door closed behind him, descending him into darkness save for small red lanterns guiding him deeper into the building. The path was short, and he soon emerged into the 'inner sanctum'. That is usually said with a chuckle, but I've taken to calling it that. It has a nice ring to it. The walls are lined with booths, and in rows along the center are the stalls. There's usually a line for every stall, but it's a slow day so the men mill about it casually. There are a handful of booths curtained off, but Derrick comes straight to me. I poured him a whiskey and slid it across the bar.
"First one's on the house." I say with a smile. He regards me distrustfully, but has a hard time keeping his eyes away from the stalls. That's how you can always recognize a first timer. He looked like an ordinary human, brown hair, brown eyes, male, I saw nothing interesting about him, but he had a hunger to him. That's something I enjoy seeing, in this business specifically. "First time?" I ask. Derrick looks at me and nods, eyes widening as he realizes just what I am. I should explain, I'm seven feet tall, red skin, horns, get the idea? Derrick looked at me, dry mouthed for a long time. I tapped the glass I'd handed him, and he gulped it down. I poured another. "Any questions I can help clear up?" I asked. I serve the booze and direct the johns, it's a simple life really.
"W-what is this place?" Derrick asked.
"The One Stop Shop." I replied with a smile. I flick a thumb at the red neon sign hanging above the bar explaining just that.
"And what...are you?" He asked.
"My name is Herald." I replied with a small chuckle.
"And this is just...people just have...this is a sex place?" Derrick asked, seeming at a loss for words.
"We are a pay to play establishment. You can pay $50 per stall, or $500 for a booth, adding $250 per girl if you want to keep the booth and just change the partner." I explained. "The girls in the stall go 12-hour shifts, but the ones that will take you to the stalls are all cleaned between uses. All our girls are succubi so they're of age volunteers, and immune to human diseases so they cannot transfer anything to you."
Derrick looked at the stalls as a man walked up to one of the girls. Each stall had a girl's hole presented, not always the same hole, some had feet, some had hands, a few even had tails poking out along with the girl's ass. The man grabbed the girl by her tail and pulled her ass up, eliciting a moan as he pushed his cock into her pussy. It made a glorping sound and she spilled some excess cum onto the floor where a puddle had been formed from her dripping. He didn't seem to mind, as he humped into her madly, before cumming in a matter of seconds.
"The booths?" Derrick downed his whiskey and turned back to me.
"We have a lineup of girls, you pick one, you can pick an outfit for her, a backstory, a kink, a setting, tell us your wildest fantasies, and we will make it happen. Then you go to your booth and wait for her to get everything set up." I explained. He nodded, seeming unconvinced. "If you want a drink while you're in your stall the girl can come get it for you, or she can place an order without leaving and someone will deliver it."
"Do I tell her, or do I have to tell you?" He asked. It's always the ones with that hungry look in his eyes that wants something really kinky. I can always spot them.
