Read Online Turds in the Punch Bowl (A Story of No Ordinary Friendship) by Jen Ashton - Free Book Online Page A

and Pamela Anderson, only Vegas style. He looked more like a mob boss and she was wearing some plastic/pleather get-up with her tits hoisted up to her chin. The handsome tiger in tow was tall, dark and ripped. They must’ve been in such a hurry to steal him from the male review he danced in, that he forgot his shirt. That or he is required by law to walk around like that. I would support that proposition. He had my vote.
    Joe and I followed quickly. I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to get a front row seat to this show. They hurried into a two-way mirror room and locked the door. We didn’t get there in time to have our faces pressed up against the window, and instead had to settle for bobbing up and down in the back row, peering over heads and trying to squeeze between people for even a bad view. I was pissed. I wanted to see some action. Turned out the husband only wanted to watch as his wife screwed the hunk. He must have been impotent or something. There was no threesome to be had here. We were moving on.
    We headed back to find Michele. It didn’t take us long. She was on the pole removing her top and taking tips from the other patrons. She was so proud of her boobs. She didn’t come down immediately and Joe and I had to endure at least three dances by her before we could venture upstairs.
    Once upstairs, we took a brief tour. There was a dungeon, but no one was being tortured. There was a room wrapped in plastic. It scared me. There was a golden shower, literally. There was another juice bar, a room with one lone toilet in the center, a stage with gynecological chairs placed under spotlights, a giant bed to sleep twenty and another room lined with more cubicles. We made our rounds and decided to hone in on the gang bang in one of the cubbies. It wasn’t hard to miss. There was a line out the door of eager Mexicans waiting their turn.
    We snuck past the others and made our way to the cubby next door. Joe and I stood on the bench and peered over the top of the cubicle like school children peeking over a privacy fence. It reminded me of when I was a little girl. There was a teenage boy in my neighborhood that was having sex with his girlfriend. Though I was too young to know what that meant, my brother and I would ride our bikes over to his house and lay them down in the grass underneath his bedroom window. We could hear them through the screen. Our little fingers would grip the sill tightly as we lifted our heads to peek in. We never saw anything, but we heard enough to know we were being bad, and this moment at The Green Door was similar enough to make me feel naughty all over again.
    We were giggling to ourselves, but Michele was complaining. She couldn’t see anything. Her disappointment turned into hostility and she was about to boil over. Although Joe and I were just curious voyeurs, she had clearly come to fulfill her fantasies and we were getting in the way. Just as Michele pushed us aside to get a view of her own, a tall black man interrupted our little party.
    “Excuse me,” he mumbled, clearing his throat.
    We all turned around with guilty looks on our faces. Though we weren’t doing anything wrong, we all felt like we had been caught with our hands in the cookie jar. I swallowed hard; something you should ever do in a place like that.
    “You guys wanna watch?” the man asked. But before we could answer, “Come with me.”
    He motioned for us to follow him. He led us around the corner and pulled up a chair for us. One chair for the three of us. Joe sat down first. I sat on his lap and Michele sat on mine. We looked weird. Three people stacked up on a chair next to a woman getting reamed by man after man after man while her two pimps cheered her on. I felt indescribably uncomfortable, but what was I supposed to do? Everyone in line was staring at us. Michele was watching the sex up close and personal. Joe kept laughing underneath me while he imitated gurgling noises, and I started praying.