SEXIS WRONG

Astonishing Tales of
a Peep Show Girl
Pagan Moss
Girl & I
It was first thing Tuesday morning, and I was already in the
booth doing a show for one of my regulars—a Mercedes
dealer on the hill. He was an ass man. He came in once a
week, and today he was paying me $40 just so he could
hunch down and do some poppers while he stared at my ass,
wiggling through a pair of sheer black panties. Some days he
paid me $60 to spread my bare cheeks, and some days he
offered me more if I’d just slip a finger inside. But today it
was only $40, and I was bored as hell, staring dumbly at the
wall ahead.
My mind drifted toward the conversation taking place in the
booth on the other side of the wall. I was working with Girl,
a popular peep show girl who was twenty-three but looked
fifteen and made a lot of money at it. She was freckled, five
I jumped out of my booth and found Girl gazing, squint-eyed,
into the mirror, trying to tease something out of her long,
strawberry-blonde hair.
“Ready for a two-girl show?” she said, still concentrating on
the mirror.
“Yeah?” I said, adjusting my panties. “With the guy you were
just chattin’ up?”
“Yep,” she said, flicking whatever was in her hair onto the
floor. “I’ve done shows with him before. He’s that young,
straight-looking guy who’s got all those crazy piercings and
metal implants in his cock. I told you about him a couple of
weeks ago, remember?”
I nodded, but I couldn’t remember. My mind was too full with
things from this place.
“Ready for a two-girl show?” she
said, still concentrating on the mirror.
feet tall, ninety pounds, and had the delicate features of a
child. The name Girl suited her quite nicely.
I hadn’t heard the grinding gears of her curtain rising or the
unmistakable whir of the bill acceptor, signaling a new show,
so I figured she must be workin’ some poor guy, coaxing him
doe-eyed with that wicked tongue of hers. Sometimes a guy
doesn’t know a good thing right away when he sees it.
The Mercedes dealer shot his load right on time, with five
minutes still ticking off the clock. He was all business—not
one to chat afterwards. There were luxury sedans to be sold,
and there were important men with thick wallets who were
waiting to buy them. He checked his watch, cleaned up, and
was out the door in a flash.
“Well...he said his grandmother died last
month and left him some money. He just got
the check in the mail today.”
Girl reached inside her booth past an array of stuffed animals
(which management said she couldn’t have in her booth because
they were “sick”) and grabbed her moneymaker—a
bright-pink, vibrating monstrosity she called Bob. She also
snatched the tattered blanket she’d had since she was
three—a pink baby’s quilt with a white, satiny edge worn thin
with love. She tossed her stuff into my booth, which was
slightly larger than hers—better able to accommodate two
girls rolling around inside.
The customer hit the ATM, and we ran to the bathroom to
freshen up. We both grabbed baby wipes from the dispenser
on the counter and went to work with a foot on the toilet
seat—lips spread—carefully wiping between each crevice
206 EVERYTHING YOU KNOW ABOUT SEX IS WRONG