The Dirtbag Vernacular [Original Novel]

ENTRY 27

On a Sunday morning I park the Peugeot in the staff parking lot at the Art Institute. I walk down to Columbus, cross it, turn right. I continue for several minutes until I approach Broadway. I pass the Condor Club, turn left, walk down to Kearny. Turn right, cross Broadway. I descend walking down Kearny towards the business district in search of a peep show called The Lusty Lady Theater.

I’ve heard about the place for some time, going back to when I still lived in New Orleans. Jimmy goes on occasionally about the great times he’s had there. Every time I go out looking for the place I’m unable to find it. I always end up wandering around some of the more obvious strip places on and around Broadway. This time I get detailed directions from Jimmy. In my distraughtful state I’m really feeling the need to look at some naked women. Halfway down the slope of Kearny I see it. It’s on my right. A burlesque type marquee reads, “The Lusty Lady Theatre,” giving the illusion of some vaudeville type show.

I walk boldly through a small lobby. Pass an attendant on my right at a desk, to my left are pictures and names of the dancers. In the next room directly in front of me is a line of doors. I walk in, on the left is a change machine, to my right is the line of doors. I put a five in the change machine and twenty quarters fall to the tray below.

I walk over to the doors. I try a couple of knobs that are locked. I find one that opens, walk into a small booth and see a darkened glass window directly in front of me. It’s about a foot and a half wide and two feet tall. Below it, to the left is a wall-mounted Kleenex dispenser. Directly below the window is an arcade style coin slot. I walk into the small cubicle and close the door behind me. I take a coin from my pocket and place it into the slot. A partition on the other side of the glass slowly moves upward. I see a warmly lit room with five girls on a dance floor. Except for high heels all of them are completely naked. A beautiful blonde walks up to my window.

“Hi! You’re cute,” she goes.

Immediately I start to move my eyes over her slender, amazing body. First noticing her perfectly shaped up-turned cupcake breasts. They’re a little less than medium-sized. A good deal bigger than itty-bitty titties. Small brown erect nipples. She mounts the window somehow with her feet on either side of it. Her legs are spread and her pussy is as close as she can get it to the window. I unzip my pants, start to pull my dick out. At this moment the partition slides down blocking my view. I frantically grab at my pocket for another quarter. The partition slides back up. I am happy to see she hasn’t strayed too far from me. She immediately returns to my window. She waits while I empty my pocket of all the quarters placing them into the coin slot.

I stare intently at her taking in the view once again. This time I undo my belt. I unzip my pants and pull them down a little. This isn’t to make it any easier to masturbate. It makes me feel a little nasty. I take my dick out and spit into my hand, start rubbing the thing, which has already started to swell. I keep working it slowly taking in her flesh. Before long I’m all the way up. She mounts the window again and gives me an even better view of her hairless beaver. The lips are perfect for my taste. A pussy Frank would call an ‘innie,’ as opposed to an ‘outie.’ I keep stroking killing my pain demon. The coin machine has a red-lighted counter. I notice that I’m a little more than halfway through my quarters.

She turns around, puts her ass directly up against the glass, bends over, and spreads her cheeks a bit. I thoroughly enjoy the delights of visual stimulation. My face is a mere inch from her pussy with her clean perfect asshole sitting right above it staring at me. I keep stroking away slowly, not wanting to rush things completely taking in the whole experience. After a bit of this I glance down at the counter. I’ve got only fifty cents left. I panic a little. I’m not really anywhere near finishing. I spit in my hand, reload. Then, get down to really pounding away. I stare back at the pussy and that asshole. I’m going for the most extreme visual arousal. I pound hard, forcing it now.

I glance at the counter. It changes to twenty-five. I wank for all I’m worth then come hard into the wall in front of me. I don’t try at all to steer my load in any kind of direction downward to make things easier for the guy that has to clean this booth later. The partition slides back down. I put my still hard cock back in my pants. I clean my hands with some of the provided tissue, turn the doorknob using more tissue paper, and drop it as soon as the door cracks open. Then I push the door the rest of the way open with my foot.

I walk back to the Art Institute feeling a little joy. Not like a great load has been lifted from my shoulders, but a slight sense of release at the titillation I’ve just experienced.

I plan on doing a little painting, but first I head towards the maintenance shop to get some supplies out of my locker there. I climb up the staff parking lot below the shop, reach to my hip just to check and make sure that the mass of keys to the Art Institute are hanging from my belt. To my horror they are not there. There is no need to check my pockets. No one just accidentally puts that many keys in the wrong pocket.

“Fuck…! Where are those fuckin’ keys!” I mutter to myself. But there is no need to ask myself this question. I instantly know exactly where they are. They are sitting in a pool of cum at the bottom of a booth in a jerk off parlor in North Beach.

“Fuck,” I mumble miserably to myself as I turn around and head back to the peep show.

“No we didn’t see any keys,” the attendant stifles a laugh then displays disgust at the idea of picking the keys up off the wet floor. “You can go take a look yourself. Ya remember which booth?”

I go back to check the booth. It’s in use. I wait a minute. A bald potbellied guy comes out. I peer inside looking carefully squinting in the dark light, into the corners. I don’t see the keys.

As I walk slowly and listlessly back in beautiful mid-morning California sunlight I envision a couple of different scenarios. One is Andy sitting in his office having a laugh with me and Mark. He jovially muses, “Oh… Jack, you lost the school keys at the Lusty Lady, did you? That’s quite a place to lose them…. Did you have a nice time?” The other one isn’t so funny, especially since I am only a temporary employee and am applying for a permanent position in the maintenance department.

It’s possible that I haven’t even brought the keys with me. I don’t give this thought much of a chance. I am sure I had the keys with me when I left my place in the morning.

There isn’t any way for me to paint unless I can get into my locker in the shop so I drive back home to the Haight.

When I walk into my room the keys are sitting in their usual place next to my bed and I’m quite relieved. I don’t have to tell my supervisor that I’ve lost the keys to the entire school while jerking off at The Lusty Lady.


Photo by Hoffacurse