We pulled into the parking lot of the adult book store. This was back in the day when I used to hang with Eric, my former "gaysian" (a BFF that is gay and asian). Eric and I had spent the ENTIRE night before drinking Bailey's, Frangelico, and Wild Turkey while watching porn. We were on a 23 hour bender. It had been my idea to find one of these "ol' school" sex shops so that we could check out some action...up close and personal. Leave it to Eric to actually take me up on it...

The shop we ended up at was out by the airport. It was a virtual porn superstore. The front facing windows, for the most part, had been shaded either by the elements or on purpose as a means to protect customer privacy. The car that we arrived in (Eric's CR-V) was the only one parked in the front lot. All the other pervs must've chickened out and parked in the back or across the street at the gas station. Eric and I hadn't even bothered to get dressed properly; he arrived in a battered white Banana Republic t-shirt, a pair of paisley GAP pajama bottoms and Teva sandals--and I, in my black Walkmen tee, a pair of dingy white pajama bottoms with cartoon kittens all over them and mismatched Chuck Taylors.

Now, despite the carefully guarded exterior of this fine establishment, the inside was a bright and vibrant display of sex and sexuality: dildoes, masks, latex body suits, ball-gags. It was all there.

The place was packed. Well, maybe not packed, but was teeming with the usual suspects: the businessman on his lunch break with a briefcase in hand looking for the sweetest new face in the world of barely legal (or k.p. when available)--the random homeboy clad in a throwback jersey, thick gold chain and pristene new Phat Farm kicks looking for big booty ho's that squirt--a couple comprised of a hispanic rock-a-billy boy and his white Burlesque-y girlfriend trolling for prints of Alberto Vargas nudes--the self-assured butch dyke for whom the sapphically unfriendly sex shops of West Hollywood simply wouldn't do--and various middle-aged "Chester the Molestor" types in plaid shirts and Members Only jackets peppered throughout.

All eyes were on Eric and me as we wandered in. Our presence marked the dawning of the new breed; we looked like nice kids from Sherman Oaks or Santa Monica that took a wrong exit on the 405. Eric immediately attracted the attention of several older white gentleman in the place. He leaned in and whispered, "...another outbreak of yellow fever." Then he headed off toward the cockrings.

I was now alone and in charge of my own entertainment. After browsing the cramped aisles of classic Vanessa Del Rio videos and bukkake DVDs, I settled into a small corner housing bulk sell-through discs...3/$19.99. I hadn't been standing in that spot five minutes before I was approached. He was a bit stocky and looked a little like Lenny Bruce. He said his name was Grover. Grover was the kind of guy that you KNOW can only get laid with a major credit card, and still has the audacity to think he's God's gift to women. I felt him checking me out. I'd never been so uncomfortable in my life.

"Hey, you..." he said. I didn't look up. He continued, "What's a little cocoa princess like you doing in here? You MUST be looking for some fun. I saw who you walked in with. Foo Manchu can't do you like I can..." Then, he attempted to touch me but I ducked out of the way in enough time to avoid his [cringe] finger. This made him laugh. It was the smarmy chuckle of a man who probably never took the word "no" for an answer.

Disgusted and annoyed, I cursed something mean under my breath and headed over to Eric. He'd been watching the whole exchange and was laughing when I got there. "What's up with that?" he asked.

"Suburban rapist..." I replied.

Eric chuckled, then suggested that we head to the back and check out the private booths. This is why we came in the first place.

The booths in this joint were a little different than I'd imagined them to be. Each cubicle was divided by a long, light blue wall that extended to the ceiling, but you could see into the private viewing rooms through the tiny saloon-style doors on the front of each booth. Holding hands, Eric and I slowly strolled to the back, carefully peeking into each one as we went. The first two booths, respectively, were occupied by older guys--soccer dads, maybe. The first didn't seem to notice us, but the second smiled and winked. In the third booth was a black chick with her huge tits fully exposed. We made it just in time to see an older white dude blast her in the face. I'd noticed several signs that read, "ONE TO A BOOTH ONLY." Obviously, rules didn't apply in places like this. The fourth and fifth booths were empty. Eric and I settled into number four. The space was so cramped, I had to sit on his lap. We giggled as we watched a video loop of a brunette chick getting penetrated.

My guess is that Grover watched us go back there and decided that he wanted in on the fun. As he passed by our booth, he glanced in and waved at me, mockingly. I winced and then buried my face in Eric's neck.

Our attempt at horny exploration was no longer fun and now I wanted to leave. "Let's just go," I whispered. Eric whined, "Just ignore him. "

That might've been good advice...if dude hadn't gone and stuck his dick through the gloryhole right next to my head!!!

OMG!

Up until that moment, I hadn't realized exactly why that hole was there. I just figured it to be a glitch in the construction. I screamed and then jumped when I saw it. Eric started laughing hysterically. We heard a fist pound the wall of one of the booths signaling us to keep down the noise.

That was it for me. I mean, I'd gotten into some pretty kinky shit, but gloryholes were taking it a bit too far. So I tiptoed out of there. Thinking that Eric was right behind me, I started replaying the moment, only to turn and find that he wasn't there afterall. That could only mean one thing...

A little less than ten minutes later, Eric came back up to the front. He approached me and asked if I felt like going to In-N-Out Burger. I looked at him, somewhat disturbed at what I feared he may have done. Did he? NO...! He'd never...

As we subtly discussed our lunch plans, Grover called out, "Hey, Cocoa!" Eric turned around and saw him attempting to get to us. Wasting no time, he put his hand on my back and quickly ushered me out the front entrance. Amused by the whole scene, I asked him, "Eric, what the fuck did you do?"

"Just get in the car, ok?!"

Eric popped the mechanical lock with the key remote, but he just wasn't fast enough. Grover ran out onto the sidewalk, tucking his shirt tails into his husky jeans.

BUSTED!

When he realized that I was actually running away from him (and not just playing hard to get), he became angry.

"Hey, you dumb black bitch! You can suck my dick like that, but you can't have a conversation?"

Eric and I jumped into the car and he locked the door.

As he stuck the key into the ignition, I looked at him, shook my head disapprovingly, and said, "You slut..." © 2006.