The Randy Romance Novelist(31)

“Just get in there,” he gently pushed me in the direction of the empty booth.

“Hey!” I placed my hands on my hips. “What did I tell you about pushing? I’m not afraid to snap your pecker in half.”

He gave me a “get real” look. “Please, you would rather die than do anything to my precious junk.”

Very accurate statement, but I didn’t have to let him know that.

Ignoring his smarmy look, I grabbed a paper towel from one of the wall dispensers, gripped the doorknob to the booth, and peeked in. Instantly, I was hit with a smell I couldn’t not even possibly describe if I wanted to.

Like fuel to a flame, my hand snapped up over my mouth and nose, covering them both. I turned to Henry and said, “It smells rank in here.”

“Did you expect it to smell like a spring meadow? Of course it smells bad.”

I grabbed my cardigan and covered my mouth and nose, so I’d have a little bit of a filter while breathing in. “How do people even get off in places like this? The smell is way too offensive.”

“When someone is horny enough, they don’t care where they are.”

“I’m never that . . . excited.”

“I beg to differ.” Henry wiggled his eyebrows.

I swatted his chest and then peeked my head in one more time. There was nothing fancy about the booth at all. On one side, there was a screen that seemed like it was from the 1980s with buttons to choose what flick to watch, and opposite the screen was a built in bench, the same color as the walls. Because I’m a masochist, I looked down at the ground and instantly regretted it. It was spotted with white droplets.

“I think my libido has dropped down a couple of notches.” I shivered, still staring inside the booth. I couldn’t turn away.

“I didn’t think that was possible,” Henry said.

“Very funny.” I turned to Henry when I saw woman walk up to us. She was the size of The Rock: thick, wide, and terrifying.

“You’re in my booth,” she said with a deep voice . . . a very deep voice.

Henry turned around and saw the yeti towering over him from behind. Instinctively, he took a step back and put his arms around me for protection. “I’m sorry; we didn’t know it was occupied.”

“It is every Wednesday from seven to nine at night. Now move so I can stick my hand down my pants and twiddle myself.”

Sweet Jesus.

“Excuse us,” Henry apologized, stepping us to the side.

The lady grabbed hold of the paper towel dispenser, opened it up and grabbed a stack of towels. “It’s going to be a long night. I’m looking to prune these fingers.” With that, she locked herself in the booth, while Henry and I stared at the now “Occupied” sign on the door.

“Why did I picture her *?” Henry asked with a forlorn look on his face.

“Why do I feel like her vagina could gobble me up whole?”

Henry quickly ushered me out of the porn booth room and back into the shop, while saying, “Because I’m pretty sure her vagina eats pretty girls like you for an appetizer. No doubt about it, her vagina has teeth. Big f*cking scary ass fangs that rival the chompers on a T-Rex.” Henry gripped my hand. “I think I’m going to need you to hold me tonight while I bury my face in your bosom.”

“How is that different than any other night?” I joked.

Henry gave me a shocked expression. “Cheeky tonight, huh? You see your first porn booth and now you have some sass in those pants. My, my, my.”

“You’re stupid,” I laughed, and walked past him toward a wall of battery-operated magic wands.

Purple, pink, green, black, glitter, matte, thick, skinny, small, short . . . hundreds of different types of dildos. Dolphins, rabbits, veiny, sleek, vibrating, rotating, life-like, fantasy-like . . . so many dildos.

I stared at all the pleasure wands on the wall advertising “The Best Orgasm of Your Life” while my mouth hung open in wonderment.

“It’s like Disneyworld for vaginas,” I muttered, reaching my hand out to touch one. “They’re so pretty, all sparkly like a unicorn’s horn.”

“They just look like different colored dicks to me,” Henry answered, hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels.

“You’re saying these aren’t pretty?” I asked, flabbergasted by his response. “The colors, the sparkles, they’re so . . . captivating.”

“Love, if I found these pretty, we might have a problem.”

“So, you don’t want one in your ass?” I asked, pulling down a strap-on.

“What?” Henry’s eyebrows shot to the top of his hairline. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

I placed the strap-on around my waist for good show and thrusted in his direction. “A book I recently read had a fun little ditty in it of a girl wearing a strap-on and doing her boyfriend from behind while she . . .” I leaned forward and whispered, “stroked him to climax. Since we’re here, we could get some play things for us. I heard men really like to have their prostate played with.” I leaned even closer and said, “I could play with your perineum while I do it. I’ll use the All American dildo. Who doesn’t want the Star Spangled Banner making you all hot and bothered?”

Face bright red, Henry leaned into my ear and said, “Are you hearing yourself right now? You’re practically frothing at the mouth from the idea of having a Fourth of July party up my ass. Do you realize that right now?”