The Randy Romance Novelist(30)

“Why does it smell like that?” I asked, burying my face into Henry’s side to soak in his cologne.

“Latex, plastic, and jiz, what did you expect?”

“Ew, that is not what I’m smelling right now.” I looked around and leaned into Henry some more, so the shop owner didn’t hear me. “It does not smell like semen in here.”

Henry pointed to a black curtain off to the side. “Remember the jiz booths I talked about?” I nodded. “Back there, love.”

“How do you know this?” I gasped. “Oh, my God, have you been in one before? Ew, Henry, getting it off in public is so beneath you.”

A full-on belly laugh took over Henry’s body, and I couldn’t help but watch his Adam’s apple fall in rhythm with his laughter. The way his shoulders shook and flexed under his simple white button up caused a warm sensation to take place within my stomach. I wanted him . . . again . . . in a sex shop.

“Rosie, you think so highly of me.” He shook his head. “I have been in one.”

Check that, I didn’t want him anymore.

“Gross, Henry!”

“Not because I wanted to,” he added quickly. “I was with a couple of friends and they dared me to go in one, sit down, and watch a video.”

“Why would you do that? Did you touch yourself?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I didn’t touch myself. It smelled so much like soured spunk I nearly threw up, but once I got out, I was a cool one-hundred dollars richer. Joke was on them because they paid for my beer for a couple of days in college. It all worked out.”

“Except for the fact that you went into a porn booth.”

“Eh,” he passed it off. “Chalk it up to life experiences. Do you want to see what it looks like?”

“No,” I replied right away, disgusted with the suggestion.

I looked over at the curtain. Even though I didn’t want to go near one of the booths, I had to admit, I was mildly curious to see what it looked like.

Henry must have picked up on my curiosity, because after observing me for a few moments, he asked, “You want to see, don’t you?”

I bit my lip as I weighed my options. Research is an important thing when it comes to writing a book. As an author, you want to be accurate in your descriptions, you want to make sure anything you type out will make sense to the readers. Therefore, if I ever write about a porn booth, then I have to see one, right?

“I think maybe, for research, it might be beneficial just to see what one could possibly look like, but I swear, if you push me near it, I will break up with you so hard, you won’t be able to catch your breath before I snap your penis in half.”

“Whoa, don’t want a broken penis. I’ll keep my distance.”

Henry guided me to the velvet curtain that hid the booths. I took a deep breath, and allowed him to take my hand and propel me into the dimly lit space. I didn’t really know what to expect when I crossed the velvet curtain threshold but was shocked when I took in the surroundings. There was music playing in the background, cheap elevator music. The walls were black and the doors to the booths were red, all marked off by a number. Sex paraphernalia hung from the ceiling. Surrounding the walls and in the center of the floor were trash cans, lots and lots of trash cans.

“What is with the garbage cans?” I whispered to Henry, hearing a random grunt here and there. They really needed to turn up the elevator music a little bit more in this joint.

Henry quirked his eyebrow at me. “What do you think they are for?”

“Umm . . . no food or drinks in the booth?”

Henry shook his head, then made a motion near his crotch, as if he was jacking himself off and then spooged everywhere. “Cum has to go somewhere, love.”

Oh. My. God!

“Ewwww!” I said rather loudly. Henry shushed me, and motioned with his hand.

Henry was about to say something to me when one of the booth doors opened. A very attractive middle-aged man poked his head out and stared us down.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to whack off before I have to go home to five kids, four of them being two sets of twins.”

Waving his hand at the man in an apologetic way, Henry said, “Sorry, man. We’ll be quiet, pump away.”

“Thanks, dude.” The man shut the door, and from what I could assume, started to get back to business.

“I can’t handle this right now.” I snickered and Henry covered my mouth.

“Don’t be rude. People are trying to get off. They have the right to do so. Now, do you want to see a booth or not? Because if you’re not going to look in one, then I’m getting the hell out of here. That dildo over there is dangling pretty low from the ceiling and it looks like it’s waving at me.”

I eyed the dildo and nearly squeaked out a scream. The head was the size of my fist . . . my fist!

“Fine, which one is open?”

Henry pointed to the last booth on the right. “That one says vacant. Stick your head in and let’s get out of here.”

“Will you still love me if I look inside?”

“Yes, but if you don’t hurry up and that dildo falls on me, there’s a slight chance I might not love you after that.”

“Fair enough,” I laughed. “Concussion from elephant dong might not be the way to go.”