Free My Three Husbands by Swan Adamson Page B

whether they’re watching movies. No one can be in a booth unless they’re putting in dollar tokens. If they aren’t, I have to go back there, rap sharply on the door, and say in a loud stern voice, “You have to be spending money in there!” Tremaynne thinks that’s the funniest part of my job.
    Ever since the city tried to close him down for some health ordinance violation, Bruce keeps it very clean back there. Every booth has a roll of paper towels. Every time someone leaves a booth, Hosario or one of the cleaning boys goes in to mop the floor and wipe down the walls with this disinfectant that smells like pineapple and vomit. The bathroom is kept locked, so you have to ask for a key. That way we can keep it clean and stop people from going in there to have sex.
    I’ve learned that nothing can stop people from wanting, hoping, or trying to have sex. Even on September 11, people came in to get their rocks off. Like Bruce says, “You can’t put a lid on libido.”
    So we’re open 24/7. People flit in and out of that shadowy back area all day and all night. Sometimes drag queens with big feet and their balls strapped between their legs come in, trying not to look obvious in their wigs and makeup. Sometimes they’re transexuals on the road to gender reassignment. Real cute students, real ugly middle-aged guys, men of eighty wearing bib overalls and cowboy hats—I’ve seen them all. People who look like professors and people who look retarded. We are totally wheelchair accessible, so sometimes guys drive their chairs in.
    Every morning my first task is to make sure all the video boxes are properly arranged in alphabetical order on their racks. I wear disposable plastic gloves when I do this because sometimes the customers aren’t able to control themselves while browsing. I told Bruce I would not wipe up wet or dried sperm from the floor, the walls, or the boxes. Hosario or one of the cleaning boys does that.
    Have you ever alphabetized porn movies? That’s part of my job. Anal Olympics goes before Ass Class but after A Touch of Ass.
    Those cover shots on the porn videos are really something. Lipsticked mouths with cum flying into them (Saucy Suckers) or running down cheeks like gobs of white snot (Cum As You Are). Heavily made up women holding up their beachball-size tits and winking (Big Hot Mamas). Rearends plugged by impossibly humongous pricks (Ass You Like It). Shaved pussies held wide open, like mouths singing in a church choir (Clitty Clitty Bang Bang).
    The fetish sections are alphabetized by fetish and by title. Bestiality comes before Bondage. The bondage covers are the ones I can’t stand to look at. I mean the ones where it’s the woman who’s being abused. It’s kind of hot when she’s the one with the whip and lace-up stilettos. You can tell that the bondage video covers are fake, though, because the models don’t look like they’re really in pain. They just look startled. Don’t ask me to describe the ones with animals. Someone should call the ASPCA about those.
    Of course we sell magazines, too. Chicks & Dicks , 48 Plus , Open Wide , Cross Dressers Quarterly , Pussy Sandwich , Hanky Spanky. They’re all plastic-wrapped and electronically coded. If someone slips a copy of Blowjob under his jacket and tries to sneak out with it, the scan alarm at the door goes off. That’s really a drag because then one of the assistant managers has to stop the guy and it’s, like, really embarrassing to hear their lame excuses. Sometimes they go off into this belligerent denial, even when the proof’s right there in front of them. You’ve got to be careful with shoplifters, though, because they might sue.
    Phantastic Phantasy is usually as quiet as a library. It’s like the reverse of the outside world. Nobody talks but the staff. I always keep the indie rock station cranked up so people won’t feel so lonely