Chapter 12: Juanita’s Five-Man Show

Friday dinner ended the same way it always did. My mother pushed her plate forward, kissed my forehead, and said they were going for a drive. My father grabbed his keys. The front door clicked shut.

I counted to sixty. Then I grabbed my purse and slipped out the back.

The gas station across from Carl’s looked the same as last week. Same flickering sign. Same puddle of oil in the parking space nearest the pump. I pulled in, killed the engine, and stared across the four-lane road at the familiar neon glow.

My father’s sedan sat in the lot. Of course it did.

I crossed the street with my heart hammering against my ribs. The bell above the door chimed as I pushed through. Carl looked up from his magazine, and a slow grin spread across his weathered face.

“Megan. Glad you decided to come back.” He set the magazine down, folded his thick hands on the counter. “I love seeing repeat customers. Means we’re doing something right.”

My cheeks warmed. “Is there a live show tonight?”

“You’re in for a treat.” Carl leaned back, his chair creaking. “Juanita’s performing. She’s taking on five guys tonight.”

“Five?”

“Five.” He chuckled. “She’s a very popular performer. Looks a lot like that pornstar, Autumn Falls. You know her?”

I shook my head. “I don’t.”

Carl reached under the counter and pulled out a DVD case. The cover showed a woman with long black hair and a curvy body, her lips wrapped around a thick cock, her eyes looking up at the camera with a hunger that made my stomach flip. “That’s Autumn Falls. Juanita’s got the same body, same energy. You’ll see.”

I studied the image. The woman on the cover had wide hips and full breasts, a tiny waist that made her curves look exaggerated, almost cartoonish. Her face was pretty—sharp cheekbones, full lips, dark eyes that promised things I didn’t have words for.

She was hot. Unbelievably hot.

My thighs pressed together.

I handed the DVD back. “Where do I go?”

“Same room as last time. Show starts in five.” Carl pointed toward the beaded curtain. “Enjoy yourself, Megan.”

The name still felt wrong on my tongue, but I didn’t correct him.

The back hallway smelled the same, stale cum, sweat, the metallic tang of lube. I passed the gloryhole booths. A red light glowed above one door. The librarian, probably. I didn’t stop to check.

The observation room door was ajar, the light above it red.

I slipped inside and pulled the door closed behind me.

The bench was cold through my jeans. The one-way mirror showed a brightly lit room on the other side, bigger than last week’s setup, with a wide mattress on the floor and a table covered in bottles of lube. The air in my side was cool and still, filtered through that same vent that carried sound from the performance space.

I sat down. Gripped my knees. Waited.

The door on the other side opened.

Juanita stepped into the light, and I forgot how to breathe.

She was smaller than I expected, maybe five foot four, a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet. But her body was absurd. Huge tits that had to be natural, spilling out of a black lace bra. A waist so narrow it looked like you could circle it with two hands. Wide hips that flared into thick thighs and a round ass that swayed with each step.

She was barefoot. Wearing nothing but that black lace bra and a matching thong, the fabric disappearing between the cheeks of her ass.

Her hair fell past her shoulders, long and black and shiny under the fluorescent lights.

She looked exactly like the woman on the DVD cover. Exaggerated. Unreal. Perfect.

The five men followed her in.

They were a mix of shapes and sizes, tall, short, thick, lean. One had a graying beard. One was young, barely older than me, with a buzz cut and a cock that was already hard and dripping. The tallest one was black, built like a football player, his chest rippling with muscle. The shortest one had a beer belly and a thick, curved cock that pointed left. The last one was wiry, covered in tattoos, with a shaved head and a cock that looked too big for his frame.