The curtain

Different arcade, still an ID at the door, still not the record store. September, and my hair was already messy from the walk. I sat on a stool in the dim hallway in the black t-shirt and jeans and took one boot off, the other left on, because the left one had been biting my ankle and I like a bare foot on a floor I chose. A man on the other side of the curtain said his name was Stefan and that he was thirty-eight. I asked the age again. Thirty-eight. I told him if that was a lie he could leave, and if it was true he could stay and do what I said. He said it was true. I did not give him my name. I do not keep anyone, and I leave before the part where names get swapped like numbers.

I pulled the curtain. The booth was small and the light was mean and I liked it. Stefan stayed a shape more than a portrait. I told him to take his cock out and not to touch my head. He did. I sucked his cock on my knees with one boot still on and one foot bare, soft sounds, exact pressure, fist at the base. My cunt got wet fast. I fingered myself with my free hand and told him he was not allowed to cum yet, because I wanted to fuck. He said please like he meant it. I stood, turned, planted both hands on the wall, and told him to fuck my cunt.

His cock pushed in and I swore, quiet, forehead to the paint. One boot gave me the height and the bare foot kept me honest about the floor. I told him deeper, then slower, then deeper again. He fucked my cunt the way I steered him, hands on my hips, nothing fancy. I rubbed my clit and came with a soft broken noise, cunt gripping his cock, the wall cold under my palms. He asked if he could cum inside. I said no. I told him to pull out and cum in his hand, and I wanted to hear it. He stroked his cock against my ass and came with a rough gasp into his own palm. I did not turn the light up. I did not ask what he looked like in a real room.

I put the boot back on. I told him I was leaving and that he did not get a name, a number, or a second round. He said thank you. I said good. I walked out past the ID desk with my hair worse and my jeans buttoned and the whole decision still mine. The rented room locked behind me ten minutes later. I put a record on low and did not tell it anything.