Under New Management

The first thing I did after buying the shop was take down the sign that said the card machine was broken.

It wasn't broken. Arthur just hated paying the fees.

I'd worked for him for eleven years. Long enough to know which shelves sagged, which suppliers delivered late, and which customers would spend forty minutes browsing before asking whether we sold batteries.

Now all of it was mine.

Arthur stood on the other side of the counter while I scraped the tape off the glass.

"You'll want that sign again."

"I'll risk it."

He set his keys beside the register. There were six of them on a brass ring, along with a little bottle opener I'd never seen him use.

"Back-door lock sticks when it rains."

"I know."

"And don't let the delivery driver leave boxes outside."

"I know, Arthur."

He nodded, then looked around.

We'd signed everything that morning. He'd talked through most of it, telling the woman handling the paperwork about the place he and his sister had bought in Florida. Now he seemed reluctant to walk the twelve feet to the front door.

"You'll do all right," he said.

"I hope so."

"Don't change everything at once."

I looked at the faded posters in the window.

"No promises."

He laughed, shook my hand, and left.

I watched his car pull out before picking up the keys.

The door opened again less than a minute later.

"Forget something?"

"No, but I can come back if you're busy."

Sebastian stood just inside, holding a paper cup of coffee.

He'd been coming into the shop for years. Sometimes he bought something. Sometimes he stayed to talk until I found a job that required me to leave the counter.

He looked past me toward the window.

"So he's finally gone?"

"Retired."

"That's what I meant."

His eyes dropped to the keys in my hand.

"Congratulations, Kenny."

"Ken."

"Does being the owner come with a badge?"

"It comes with bills."

"Then I'll stick to being a customer."

"That usually involves buying something."

"I'm looking."

"You're always here. You know the inventory as well as me."

"And already the service has deteriorated."

He wandered toward the shelves. I went back to picking tape off the glass.

A few minutes later, he called from the rear of the shop.

"You opening this up?"

He stood beside the door at the end of the aisle. A yellowed OUT OF ORDER sign hung at eye level, blocking most of the lettering that read: Gloryholes.

"Eventually."

"Eventually as in next month, or eventually as in Arthur?"

"I've owned the place for about an hour."

Sebastian tried the handle. Locked, as always.

"What's back there now?"

"Boxes. Old display racks. Whatever he didn't want to pay somebody to haul away."

"Have you looked properly?"

"I've put boxes in. But I never really investigated"

He stepped aside as I approached with the keys.

The third key worked.

I had to push the door against something before it would open far enough to let us through. A folded cardboard display slid across the floor.

I reached inside and found the switch.

One fluorescent tube came on. The other flickered a few times and gave up.

"Lovely," Sebastian said.

The room smelled of dust and old carpet. Boxes stood in uneven piles along one wall. Beyond them, a narrow passage ran between a row of small booths.

They'd been closed before Arthur hired me. In eleven years, I'd never seen a customer back here.

Sebastian walked past the boxes and stopped at the first booth.

"These are still here."

"Hard to throw away a room."

"You know what I mean."

I pulled a broken display rack out of the passage. Behind it, the paint was a different color.

There was more space than I remembered. Once the junk was gone, I could finally see what I'd bought.

Sebastian looked into one booth, then back at me.

"What are you planning?"

"Right now? A dumpster."

"And after that?"

"I haven't decided."

He studied me for a second, as though he didn't quite believe that.

The bell over the front door rang.

"Ken?"

"Back here," I called.

Lydia appeared in the doorway carrying a takeout bag. She looked at Sebastian, then at the open booths.

"So this is where you disappeared to."

"Come look at what we own."

She set the bag on a box and stepped around the display rack.

For weeks, we'd talked about the purchase over dinner, in the car, and in bed when we should have been sleeping. We'd argued about the loan, agreed about the new sign, and argued again about how much the first round of repairs would cost.

I'd mentioned this room. I hadn't brought her into it.

She walked slowly down the passage, looking through the open doors.

Sebastian moved aside to let her pass.

"Well?" I asked.

Lydia stopped at the last booth.

"How long did you say these have been closed?"

"Since before I started."

She looked inside once more before turning toward me.

"Then I think we need to talk about what you're going to do with them."

"Talk about what?" I asked.

Lydia glanced at Sebastian.

"Later. Your lunch is getting cold."

He took the hint.

"I'll leave you to it."

"Oh, you don't have to go," Lydia said.

"I know when I've overstayed my welcome."

He picked up his coffee from the box by the door.

"Congratulations again, Kenny."

"Ken."

He smiled and headed out.

Lydia waited until we heard the bell over the front door.

"Does he ever call you Ken?"

"When he wants a discount."

I switched off the light and pulled the back-room door shut. Lydia carried the food to the counter while I found two stools.

She'd brought sandwiches. Mine had flattened under the container of fries, but I'd skipped breakfast and didn't care.

For a few minutes, she asked about the signing. Whether Arthur had cried. Whether I'd checked the final figures. Whether owning the place felt any different yet.

"Ask me when something breaks," I said.

She wiped her fingers on a napkin.

"So what were you actually planning for that room?"

"Clear it out. See what needs fixing."

"And the booths?"

"I haven't decided whether to keep them."

"Don't tear them out just yet."

I stopped unwrapping the other half of my sandwich.

"You've got an idea."

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"Tonight," she said, then went back to her lunch.

She looked toward the front window. A man was standing outside, studying the opening

The man came in and asked where Arthur was. I said he retired. Then he asked where we kept the lubricants. I pointed him toward the second aisle.

I made a little sign. I set it on the counter beside the register: UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT. Arthur had owned the place for so long that people still asked for him even when I was the one who'd helped them every week. Maybe the sign would save me explaining. I straightened it, stepped back, and decided the counter looked better with my name on the business cards beside it.

I knew that look. She had something she wanted to say. She was deciding how much she wanted me to hear.

Lydia brought it up that evening before I had a chance to ask.

We were in the kitchen. I'd spread the shop paperwork across one end of the table, trying to put it in some kind of order.

"The booths," she said.

I looked up.

"Yeah?"

"I want you to keep them."

"Okay. Why?"

She pulled out the chair opposite mine and sat.

"Because they might be fun."

"For a customer?"

"No, Ken. On the other side."

I put the papers down.

Lydia watched me, waiting for an answer.

We'd been going to swingers' parties for a few years. She'd been with men and women, and I'd found out pretty early that I liked watching her. I liked going home with her afterward, too, hearing what she'd enjoyed and what they did to her. Usually while she was sitting on my face and I was sucking the stranger's cum out of her.

Our arrangement wasn't equal. We both knew that.

At one of our first parties, a woman had sat beside me while Lydia was across the room. We'd talked for a while. When she put her hand on my knee, I hadn't moved it.

Lydia noticed.

On the drive home, she asked whether I'd wanted to leave with the woman.

"No. I came with you."

"That wasn't what I asked."

I'd admitted I liked the attention.

She looked out the passenger window for a while before answering.

"I don't want you pursuing other women, Ken. If that's what you want from these parties, we need to talk about whether we should keep going."

I could have argued that she was asking for something she wasn't offering me. Instead, we talked about what I actually wanted. Watching her was a large part of why I went. Finding somebody else hadn't been.

So we'd agreed. Ordinary conversation was fine. Flirting, arranging dates, or taking things further--that wasn't our agreement.

It had worked for us. She got to fuck whoever she wanted but I couldn't do more than talk to a woman.

Now she was sitting across the kitchen table, telling me she wanted something beyond the parties.

"How long have you been thinking about this?" I asked.

"A while."

"The booths specifically?"

"Getting fucked by random men without having to wait for one of the parties. Seeing that room today made it seem possible."

I leaned back, listening, as she continued.

"We go to swinger parties far out of town so we don't run into people we may know."

"Sorry to break it to you but someone looking through a gloryhole at the person they just fucked is gonna see just that. And they are gonna see the store owners wife."

She reached over and touched my wrist. "I have a plan for that."

"I figured you did."

"They wouldn't know it was me."

"I would."

"Does that bother you?"

"The other people? No. You know it doesn't."

"But?"

"I'm not saying no. I'm thinking."

"Then think out loud. You're making me guess."

I rubbed my thumb across her knuckles.

"I like being there with you at the parties. I like knowing you can look over and find me."

"You'd still be there."

"Working."

"You'd come back and check on me."

"Probably more often than you'd want."

She smiled.

"I doubt that."

I could already picture myself finding reasons to leave the counter. That was part of the problem. I was interested enough that I needed to slow down and consider everything else.

"You want this even if it does nothing for the business?"

"Yes."

"I need to hear you say that."

"I want to try it, Ken. I'm not just offering it to save you money on advertising."

"Okay."

"But imagine how much more business we could have. A gloryhole where there is a person in there regularly. People would be lining up out the door."

"And if you decide you're uncomfortable with it, tell me. Don't spend the next month blaming the wiring."

I laughed.

"The wiring's pretty bad."

"Ken."

"Yes. I'll tell you."

She settled back in her chair.

"So what are you thinking?"

"That we'd need a way to keep you anonymous. More than just shutting a door."

"I thought about a latex catsuit. Gloves and a hood."

I paused.

She noticed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"That wasn't nothing."

"I'm listening."

"And imagining."

"Both."

She smiled, but kept going.

"My face would be covered. So would the rest of me."

"Your voice wouldn't."

"I wouldn't be introducing myself."

"No, but I know your laugh from the other end of a building."

That made her stop and think.

"And your car can't be parked outside," I added. "You can't walk through the shop and disappear into the back five minutes before somebody goes in."

"There's the rear entrance."

"Yeah."

I took a blank sheet from the stack and found a pen.

Lydia leaned forward.

"What are you drawing?"

"The room."

I marked the entrance, then sketched the row of booths.

"The suit wouldn't have to do everything. We change the layout so customers get a limited view in the first place."

I drew a narrow compartment between two of the booths.

"This would be your space. Separate entrance at the back. Nobody comes into it from the customer side."

She turned the paper toward herself.

"So I'm not sharing a booth with anyone."

"Right."

She followed the lines with her finger.

"Between that and the suit, there wouldn't be much to recognize."

"That's the idea."

"And no pictures."

"Definitely."

I wrote that beside the drawing.

"We'd also have to be clear that nobody gets names or a promise about who's participating," I said. "They agree to the anonymity before they go back there."

Lydia nodded.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. She studied the drawing while I watched her.

Then she looked up.

"You're taking this seriously."

"You asked me to."

"I know. I wasn't sure whether we'd get this far tonight."

"Neither was I."

She tapped the narrow rectangle.

"I want to see how much room that actually gives me."

"We can measure tomorrow."

"Before you start building anything."

"Before I start building anything."

"And I want to look from the other side. See what a customer would see."

"That makes two of us."

She pushed the paper back and stood behind my chair, resting her hands on my shoulders.

"I'm glad I told you."

I looked up at her.

"So am I."

She kissed me, then glanced down at the drawing.

"Bring a tape measure tomorrow."

Until that evening, I'd been planning to clear out a room full of Arthur's junk. Now Lydia was making sure I remembered my tools.

By ten the next morning, I'd filled six trash bags and discovered that Arthur had kept every broken display rack he'd ever owned.

Lydia stood in the rear doorway, holding it open while I dragged another one outside.

"Did he think these would heal?"

"He thought I might fix them."

"Did he ask?"

"Usually while I was doing something else."

I leaned the rack against the others and went back inside.

Without the boxes, the room looked bigger. It also looked worse. The carpet had dark patches where the booths met the floor, and one partition shifted when I put my hand against it.

I pointed to the gross carpet. "That's coming out," I said.

Lydia looked at the walls.

"All the walls too?"

"All the loose or damaged ones. Then we will build new ones in their place. I'm not painting over it and pretending its good."

"Good. Let's measure for the new booth first."

I took the folded drawing out of my pocket. Lydia held one end of the tape while I stretched it across the room.

The arrangement we'd sketched at the kitchen table didn't fit.

We tried it twice before either of us said so.

"You've lost a doorway," she said.

"I see that."

"I'd like to keep the doorway."

I wrote down the measurement and crossed out one of the rectangles.

We shifted things around on paper. Lydia walked through the space, stopping where the proposed entrance would be.

"This is why I wanted to come."

"Because I draw rooms bigger than they are?"

"Because you keep looking at walls. I'm thinking about being in here."

I lowered the tape.

"Okay. Show me."

She did. I followed, listening while she pointed out what felt cramped and where she wanted a clear route back to the door. By the time we finished, the drawing was covered in arrows.

The bell rang out front.

"I'll get it," I said.

Sebastian was standing at the counter with a box of batteries in his hand.

I looked at them.

"Don't say it," he said.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He glanced at the dust on my shirt.

"You started already."

"Mostly throwing things away."

"I saw the pile out back. Arthur will feel a disturbance in the force."

I rang up the batteries.

Sebastian paid, then looked past me toward the open door.

"Can I see?"

"Watch where you step."

Lydia was folding the tape measure back into its case when we came in.

"Morning," Sebastian said.

"Hi."

He stopped in the cleared passage and looked around.

"Someone's been busy."

"Someone's going to need a bigger dumpster," I said.

His eyes went to the drawing in Lydia's hand.

"What's the plan?"

"We're still working that out."

"Clearly."

I held out my hand for the paper, but Lydia placed it on an empty shelf where all three of us could see it.

"We're keeping some of the booths," she said. "Changing the arrangement."

Sebastian leaned closer.

"What's this middle space?"

I glanced at Lydia. She gave me a small nod.

"A booth with a private entrance for a regular attraction," I said. "For someone who wants privacy."

He looked at the drawing for another moment.

Then he straightened.

"Someone specific?"

"That part isn't your business."

"Fair enough."

He didn't look offended. If anything, he seemed more interested.

"So you are reopening them."

"If we can get everything right."

"Good."

I waited, expecting a joke.

Instead, Sebastian pointed at the drawing.

"Have you thought about who you're hoping to bring in?"

"Customers."

Lydia gave me a look.

He ignored the answer.

"Because there would be a lot of men coming through here who are only interested in other men."

"What are you suggesting, Sebastian?"

"That you don't decide who this is for before you've spoken to the people who might use it."

Lydia leaned against the shelf.

"And you know people who would be interested?"

"Yes."

"How interested?"

He looked from her to me.

"Interested enough that I'd volunteer."

For a moment, I thought he meant helping with the renovation.

Then he held my gaze, and I realized he didn't.

Lydia spoke first.

"You're serious?"

"Very."

I folded my arms.

"You don't even know exactly what we're doing."

"Then explain it."

"We haven't finished deciding."

Sebastian nodded toward the paper.

"Looks like a good time to join the conversation, then."

Lydia pulled two stools over while Sebastian cleared an old catalog off a third. I moved the drawing to a stack of boxes between us.

"This is what I'm thinking."

I pointed to the far side of the room.

"Two private booths back here. Separate entrances off the rear passage, so whoever's using them doesn't have to walk through the customer area."

Sebastian leaned forward.

"One for the person you already have in mind. One for me?"

"If we decide to do this together."

"All right."

"The private booths would have a glory hole on either side. The rest of the room would be a line of video booths for customers, with openings between those too."

Lydia traced the passage with her finger.

"And we can get to either private booth from here?"

"Right. Without going through the hallway that connects the others."

Sebastian looked around the room, comparing it with the drawing.

"Are you keeping the existing booths?"

"The ones worth keeping. New screens, new seating. Anything loose or damaged gets replaced."

He nodded.

"Good. Some of those seats looked older than me."

"They probably are."

Lydia turned the paper slightly.

"There's something we haven't explained yet."

Sebastian looked at her.

"The anonymity," she said. "We don't want customers knowing who's in the private booths."

"I'm fine with that."

"I mean they wouldn't know whether it was a man or a woman either."

He sat back.

"That's different from what I was suggesting."

"I know," I said. "You were talking about bringing in men who want other men."

"Some of them won't be interested if they can't be sure."

"Then we tell them before they go back there," Lydia said. "Nobody finds out afterward that we promised something we couldn't guarantee."

Sebastian considered that.

"So the uncertainty is part of it."

"That's the idea."

He looked down at the two private booths.

"You couldn't keep assigning the same person to the same one. People would start treating the booth number like a name."

Lydia glanced at me.

"He's right."

I made a note beside the drawing.

"Nothing permanently assigned."

"And don't put different decorations on the doors," Sebastian added. "No clues."

"I wasn't planning on hanging portraits."

"You laugh, Kenny, but you're going to want some way of remembering who's where."

"Ken. And I can remember two people."

Lydia took the pen from me.

"Let's finish figuring out where the doors go before we start arguing about what's on them."

She marked the rear passage, then pointed to the entrance from the shop.

"Customers come through here. They can reach the video booths, but not this passage."

"Exactly."

Sebastian studied it again.

"All right. Now I understand."

"And?" I asked.

"I'm still interested."

Lydia handed back the pen.

I added the second private booth to the drawing properly. Until then, it had been a rough rectangle in the margin.

Sebastian watched me.

"Guess I've got a room."

"You've got a pencil mark," I said. "There's still a lot of work between that and a room."

He looked at Lydia.

"Does he always respond this well to enthusiasm?"

"Only when there's free labor involved."

Sebastian stood and picked up the nearest box.

"Fine. But I'm getting a say in the paint."

I could already picture the place busier. Regulars bringing friends. People who'd never bought anything except a bottle of lubricant coming in twice in one week.

---

By Thursday night, the old carpet was gone, the walls were painted, and I'd spent more money than I wanted to add up.

Lydia left just after nine.

"There's food in the fridge," she told me.

"I won't be much longer."

She looked at the tools spread across the floor.

"Text me when you leave."

"I will."

Sebastian waited until the back door closed before picking up the drill.

"Hold this?"

I pressed the trim against the wall while he drove the last two screws. He'd turned out to be useful. I'd expected commentary and occasional help carrying things. Instead, he showed up when he said he would and worked without needing to be told what came next.

It made him harder to dislike when he called me Kenny.

We finished the trim, put the tools away, and carried the last bags of rubbish outside. When we came back in, Sebastian stood in the passage and looked around.

"Well?"

"Looks good."

"That sounded painful."

"I said it looks good."

"You could try saying it like you're pleased."

I switched off the work light. Under the permanent lights, the room finally looked finished.

"I'm pleased."

"There. Wasn't so hard."

I went out front and got two bottles of water from the little fridge beneath the counter. Sebastian followed me.

"Thanks," he said, taking one.

I leaned against the register while he sat on the customer side of the counter.

For once, neither of us had much to say.

I looked at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Why have you put this much time into it?"

"I volunteered."

"For participating. Not for scraping glue off concrete."

He turned the bottle between his hands.

"I want it to work."

"That much?"

"Yes."

I waited.

He glanced up.

"You want a more complicated answer?"

"Maybe."

"I spend enough time here. I like you both. And for once somebody asked what I thought, then actually listened." He shrugged. "It was nice."

I felt a little bad about how surprised I was.

"Well, I appreciate it."

"You can put that in writing."

"I'm not giving you store credit."

"Cruel."

I smiled and took another drink.

He looked toward the back room.

"Lydia seems happy with it."

"She is."

"You?"

"I'm glad we're nearly done."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

He waited, watching me with an attention that made it difficult to pretend I hadn't understood.

"It was her idea," I said. "But I wanted to help make it happen."

"And you're comfortable with all of it?"

"We've talked."

"Fair enough."

He let it drop. Somehow that made me want to explain.

"We've been to parties before. This isn't coming out of nowhere."

"You don't owe me the history."

"I'm telling you."

"All right."

I peeled at the label on my water bottle.

"I like seeing her enjoy herself. That's part of it for me."

Sebastian nodded.

"And what do you want for yourself?"

"I just told you."

"Okay."

There was no challenge in it. He took a drink and looked away, leaving me with the uncomfortable feeling that I'd answered a different question.

I checked the clock.

"I should lock up."

He slid off the counter.

"Anything left for tomorrow?"

"A few things. Nothing major."

"I can come by after work."

"You've done enough."

"I didn't ask whether I'd done enough."

I looked at him, and he smiled.

"What time?"

"Six."

"All right."

At the door, he stopped.

"Good night, Kenny."

"Ken."

"Good night, Ken."

He said it without the grin this time.

I watched him walk to his car, then locked the door.

Before shutting off the lights, I took out my phone.

Leaving now.

Lydia answered almost immediately.

Food's in the fridge. Don't forget to eat.

I put the phone away and checked the back door.

On the drive home, I kept thinking about Sebastian's question. Mostly because I'd thought my answer was perfectly clear until he accepted it so easily.

Lydia was still awake when I got home.

She sat at the kitchen table with her laptop open and a mug beside it. I put my keys down and went to the fridge.

"Finished?"

"Almost."

"Your almost or actually almost?"

"Sebastian's coming back tomorrow to help with the last of it."

"He's been good."

"Yeah."

I took the lid off the plate she'd left me and put it in the microwave.

"He stayed until you locked up?"

"Helped take the rubbish out."

Lydia nodded and turned the laptop toward me.

"Look."

I leaned over the table.

She had the shop's supplier account open. Beside the laptop was a sheet of paper covered in item numbers and measurements.

"You could've left this for tomorrow."

"I wanted to check what we could get."

"Find what you wanted?"

"I think so. But I'd rather try it before we announce anything."

"Agreed."

The microwave beeped. I got my plate and sat opposite her.

Lydia closed the laptop.

"What?" I asked.

"You tell me."

"I'm eating."

"You've barely looked at me since you came in."

I put my fork down.

"Tired."

"That room does look better."

"You should've seen it after we took the work light out. You can finally tell what color the walls are."

"Sebastian was right about the paint."

"Please don't tell him."

"He knows."

I smiled.

She watched me a little longer, then picked up her mug.

I could have told her about the conversation. There hadn't been anything in it I needed to hide. Sebastian had asked a question, and I'd answered it.

Instead, I asked whether she wanted to come by after six.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. We can go through everything together."

"All three of us?"

"I thought so."

"That makes sense."

She opened the laptop again.

"Then we should get his order sorted too."

Sebastian arrived the next evening carrying a small bag and wearing clothes I hadn't seen covered in dust.

Lydia was behind the counter with me, checking the order details.

"You look disappointed," he said.

"I was hoping you'd bring a broom."

"In these shoes?"

Lydia held out the printout.

"Check your details."

He set his bag down and read it.

"That's right."

"Sure?"

"Yes."

She handed him a pen anyway.

"Initial it. I'm not listening to either of you complain if something doesn't fit."

He signed beside his measurements, then pushed the paper toward me.

"Your wife runs a tight ship."

"I've noticed."

Lydia took the sheet back.

"Speaking of which, have we actually decided when we're opening the room?"

"Not until the order arrives."

"Obviously. But after that?"

I looked toward the back.

For days I'd had an answer ready whenever she asked what came next. More cleaning. Another repair. Something to measure, buy, or replace.

We were running out of those answers.

"Next Friday," I said.

Lydia glanced at Sebastian.

He nodded.

"Works for me."

She looked back at me.

"Friday, then."

I wrote the date at the top of the printout.

Sebastian watched me underline it.

"Nervous, Kenny?"

"It's Ken."

"That wasn't the question."

Lydia smiled, waiting for my answer too.

"A little."

"Good," she said. "I'd hate to be the only one."

The order arrived Tuesday afternoon.

I checked the boxes against the packing slip and called Lydia.

"It's here."

"All of it?"

"All of it."

"I'll come after work."

Sebastian was already due at six. I hadn't expected to spend the afternoon watching the clock, but by five-thirty I'd checked it often enough that a customer asked whether I was closing early.

"No. Take your time."

He did.

Lydia came through the back door while I was ringing up his purchases. She gave me a small wave and went straight into the stockroom.

When the customer finally left, I found her opening the first box.

"Couldn't wait?"

"You've had them for four hours. I've had them for thirty seconds."

She lifted out a sealed package and checked the label against the invoice.

"This one's mine."

I picked up the other.

"Then this is his."

Seeing the two packages together made the plan feel different. Until then, most of my attention had gone into partitions and paint. Things I could fix if they turned out wrong.

Lydia caught me looking.

"Still Friday?"

"If tonight goes well."

She nodded and carried her package into the changing room.

Sebastian arrived a few minutes later. He found me rearranging things that didn't need rearranging.

"Where's Lydia?"

"Trying hers."

"And mine?"

I pointed.

He checked the label, then looked toward the closed door.

"Have you tried the room from the customer side yet?"

"About twenty times."

"With someone in it?"

"No."

"Then I suppose we'll finally find out whether you've built what you think you've built."

Before I could answer, Lydia called my name.

"Just you for a minute."

Sebastian stepped aside.

I went in and closed the door behind me.

She hadn't put on the hood yet. It lay beside the open packaging on the bench.

"Well?" she asked.

"Does it fit?"

"Yes. That wasn't what I asked."

I looked at her properly.

A week earlier, she'd been sitting across the kitchen table, trying to explain something she'd never quite found the words for. Now she watched me with that same expression--hopeful, but prepared to be disappointed.

"You look like you got what you wanted," I said.

She smiled.

"I think I did."

Then she picked up the hood.

"Let's see whether it works."

Once we'd closed the shop for the trial, Lydia went into her private compartment while I walked around to the customer side. We were only checking the view and making sure she was comfortable, but I still hesitated before entering.

"Ken?"

"I'm here."

"Can you tell?"

I knew she was there. That made it hard to judge.

"Don't move a second."

I checked from another angle, then stepped back.

"What?" she asked.

"I can't see shit with your ass pressed against the hole."

"That was rather the point."

"I know."

"Anything else?"

"Nothing I'd recognize you by."

A moment passed.

"Good," she said. "Go into the other booth and see if that reveals any more."

I stepped into the customer hallway and walked around to the booth on the other side of her compartment. Inside, I could see her open mouth pressed against the opening in the wall.

"That's perfect, Lydia. I can only see your open mouth."

"Awesome. Then our plan will work. No one will know who's servicing them."

I turned and opened the door.

Behind me, my wife called through the opening.

"Want a blowjob, Ken?"

I looked back. She pushed her face against the hole, her tongue sticking out and wiggling in the dim light.

She was such a tease. I expected her to pull away, but she stayed there with her mouth open. The hood's mouth opening aligned perfectly with the edge of her lips.

I was beyond excited. Looking at her open, latex-lined mouth, I quickly opened my pants and pulled my hard cock out.

I pushed my dick into her mouth and felt her lips close around my shaft. I kept sliding in until my belly pressed against the wall.

It felt good, but it was the kinkiness that made me thrust into the hole--and her mouth on the other side--even harder.

I could see the appeal of a glory hole now. I knew it was Lydia, but with her hidden on the other side, it was easy to imagine not knowing. That made it feel wilder than being in the same room.

I couldn't hold back. I blew my load into her mouth and heard her swallowing. As she pulled back, her tongue licked my shaft clean.

I stood on wobbly legs, pulled my pants up, then stumbled into the hallway.

I went around to the private entrance and opened the door.

Lydia and Sebastian were both inside.

I stopped.

Lydia sat on the stool with her hood in her lap. Sebastian stood beside her, pulling off one of his gloves. His hood was in his other hand.

For a second, neither of them noticed me.

Then Lydia looked up.

"Well? Everything working?"

I looked at Sebastian.

"When did you come in?"

"A few minutes ago."

"How many?"

He paused with the glove halfway off.

"I wasn't timing it."

Lydia glanced between us.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

I'd heard my wife's voice. I'd seen her tongue, the opening in the hood fitted around her lips.

Then I'd turned toward the door.

How long had I stood there before looking back?

I couldn't remember.

Sebastian finished removing the glove.

"Lydia was showing me how she'd adjusted things."

I looked at her.

She nodded.

"There isn't enough room for all of us in this closet," Sebastian commented.

I moved aside to let him pass. He squeezed past me, rubbing his latex covered ass against me. He stopped at the door.

"You all right, Kenny?"

"Ken."

"Right."

He went out into the passage.

I tried to work backward through the last few minutes. Had I heard a door open? Footsteps? I hadn't been listening for either.

"You're staring, Ken," Lydia said.

"Sorry."

"What's got into you?"

I looked at the hood in her hand. I could ask. One straightforward question would settle it.

But first I'd have to explain why I wasn't sure.

"Nothing," I said. "Just thinking about Friday."

I looked toward the doorway Sebastian had gone through.

I'd known exactly who was on the other side of that wall.

At least, I'd thought I had.

Lydia ignored the way I was staring at her and slid one of the gloryhole covers shut.

"I love how you set these up. We can close either side when we only want one person at a time."

"I love the big padded barstool you put in the middle, babe," I said with a smile. "There isn't room for much else in here."

"Yeah. its tight but I wanted it small in here for a reason. That way I can lean over it."

She stood and bent over the stool, pressing her stomach against the padded seat.

"Then I can push my ass against one opening and put my mouth against the other. Get fucked from both ends at once."

I smiled at her.

"Ingenious."

She straightened, clearly pleased with the arrangement.

I was still trying to remember whether I'd heard that stool move earlier.

"I have a couple other ideas too," she said with a smile. But it's gonna require a little more work from you to set it up."

"Figures. What do you have in mind?"

"Some eyebolts screwed into the ceiling. Then I can hang one of those leather slings in here, that we have on the shelf out front."

I looked up at the ceiling.

"You waited until I finished painting to tell me?"

"I only just thought of it."

"Of course you did."

She smiled, then noticed I was still looking toward the door.

"Ken."

"What?"

"You're somewhere else."

I almost asked her.

Instead, I nodded toward the ceiling.

"I'll have to check what's above that before we hang anything."

"Okay."

She picked up her hood.

"I'm getting changed. We can make a list of what's left before we go."

I stepped into the passage to give her room.

Sebastian was at the far end, already back in his jeans and shirt. He was folding his suit into its bag.

"Lydia wants a sling," I said.

"She mentioned it."

"When?"

He looked up.

"While we were in there."

"Right. So I guess that means the other room needs one too."

He stopped folding. "That might be fun."

I just stood there, looking at the walls.

"Is there something you want to ask me?"

I put my hands in my pockets.

"Did everything fit?"

"Yes."

"The hood too?"

He held my gaze for a second.

"The hood too."

I nodded, as though that answered the question I'd meant to ask.

Sebastian zipped the bag shut.

"You've gone very quiet."

"Long day."

"It has been."

He didn't push. I wished he would. An obvious joke, a look, something I could challenge. Instead, he picked up the bag and waited while I checked the doors.

Lydia came out a few minutes later, carrying her things.

"Ready?"

"Nearly."

I went around once more, checking the covers. Both were closed now.

From the customer side, there was nothing to see.

On Wednesday, the first regular to notice the reopening sign wanted to know whether the old video selection was coming back too.

"New screens. New selection," I told him.

"And this?"

He pointed to the notice about the private booths.

I explained the arrangement.

He read it again.

"So you won't tell us who's in there."

"No."

"Man or woman?"

"Either. You have to be comfortable not knowing."

He glanced toward the back room.

"How's anyone supposed to decide?"

"That's up to them."

He stood there a moment longer, then nodded.

"Friday night?"

"Friday night."

After he left, I looked at the notice myself.

I'd written it. I'd explained it to Lydia and Sebastian. I'd been certain customers would understand what they were agreeing to.

I just hadn't expected to be the one still thinking about it the next morning.

My phone buzzed beside the register.

A message from Lydia.

Did you look at the ceiling?

Not yet, I typed.

I deleted that and walked into the back.

By Friday afternoon, I had run out of repairs to hide behind.

The screens worked. The lights worked. The doors closed properly. Lydia had checked her list twice and left it on the counter with everything crossed off.

Sebastian arrived at five.

He set his bag down and looked toward the back.

"Ready, Kenny?"

"Ken."

He smiled.

"Are you?"

I glanced at the clock. One hour.

"I think so."

"That'll have to do."

Lydia came through the rear door while I was counting the till. She put her keys away, checked the room, then came back to me.

"All right?"

"Yeah."

She leaned across the counter and kissed me.

"Good. We're doing this."

At six, I walked to the back-room door and took down the old OUT OF ORDER sign.

There was a clean rectangle beneath it where the paint hadn't faded. The old lettering stenciled on the door, once again visable. GLORYHOLES.

I stood holding the sign for a moment, then put it under the counter.

The first customer was already waiting.

The first customer was a man I recognized from his Saturday visits. He usually bought a magazine, paid cash, and left without saying much.

Tonight, he stopped at the counter.

"Back room open?"

"Just opened."

He glanced toward the doorway.

"How does it work?"

"There's a charge for entry. The video booths are through that door, on the left side. Pick an empty one, close the door, and choose what you want to watch."

"And the other part?"

"The booths on the right side connect to private compartments. Whoever's in those controls the covers over the openings. If a cover's shut, that side isn't available."

"So I wait?"

"You can, or use another booth. You don't knock on the partition or try to open the cover yourself."

He nodded.

"What about between the regular booths?"

"There are openings between those too. But being next door to somebody doesn't mean they want company. You ask, and they have to agree."

"All right."

I pointed to the rules posted beside the entrance.

"No phones or cameras back there. No trying to look through partitions or getting into the private passage. If somebody says stop or closes a cover, you stop. If you need me, come to the counter."

He read the sign, then looked back at me.

"Who's in the private ones tonight?"

"We don't give out identities."

"I don't mean names. Men or women?"

"Could be either. We don't identify who's in which compartment. And they are only giving oral or anal, their choice."

His eyes moved toward the doorway again.

"So I could think it's a woman and be wrong."

"Yes. Or the other way around. If you need to know, don't use the private booths."

I let him think about that.

Behind him, the doorbell rang. Another customer came in, glanced at us, and headed toward the shelves.

The man lowered his voice.

"Can I request the same person next time?"

"You can ask, but I won't promise it. A booth number doesn't belong to one person."

"How would I know, then?"

"You might not."

He gave a short laugh.

"You're really sticking to this."

"Everybody who participates gets the same privacy."

He looked over the rules once more.

"And everybody knows what they're signing up for?"

"Yes. Including you. That's why we're having this conversation before you pay."

"Fair enough."

He took out his wallet.

I rang him up and handed him the receipt.

He folded the receipt into his pocket, then paused.

"Anybody else back there yet?"

"You're the first."

That seemed to make him more nervous than anything I'd explained.

He straightened his jacket and walked toward the door.

I watched until he disappeared through the doorway.

The other customer approached the counter.

"Same thing he's having."

I rested my hand beside the printed rules.

"Let me explain it first."

After the second guy went into the back room, I looked at the monitor mounted beneath the counter.

I'd installed a camera in each private compartment so I could keep an eye on Lydia and Sebastian and respond if either needed help. We'd checked the views together during the trial. The feeds stayed at the counter, with no recording.

Lydia was pacing in the little space beside her stool. Two steps, turn, two steps back. She stopped to adjust something, then started again.

Sebastian sat on his stool, looking at his phone.

So far, it was quiet.

I glanced toward the doorway. Both customers had gone through, but I couldn't see which booths they'd chosen from the counter.

On the monitor, Lydia stopped pacing and looked up at the camera.

I picked up my phone.

You okay?

She checked the message.

Yes. Waiting is weird.

I smiled despite myself.

You've been waiting all week.

Her answer came quickly.

Different kind of waiting.

Sebastian put his phone away. He sat up, listening to something outside his compartment.

I leaned closer to the screen.

A door closed in the back room. Lydia heard it too. She glanced toward one wall, then rested her hands on the stool.

The bell over the shop entrance rang.

I straightened so quickly I knocked my knee against the underside of the counter.

A man in a work jacket came in carrying an unopened box.

"Bought this yesterday," he said. "Wrong one."

I looked at the box, then at him.

"Have you got your receipt?"

While he searched his pockets, my eyes dropped toward the monitor again.

Lydia had stopped moving. Sebastian was watching one of the closed covers.

The customer put a crumpled receipt on the counter.

"That's it, isn't it?"

I picked it up.

"Yeah. That's it."

I'd spent all week imagining opening night. Somehow, I'd forgotten I would still have a shop to run.

I finished the exchange, handed over the receipt, and waited until the customer left before looking down at the monitor.

Lydia had stopped pacing.

I leaned closer, watching her for a sign that she wanted me to come back there. She looked toward the camera once and gave a small nod.

I watched her lean over the stool and slide the cover up. She pressed her latex-covered face against the opening and stayed there for several minutes. From what I could see, the guy must have been fucking her mouth.

A customer walked in. When I looked back down, Lydia was standing and wiping her face with a towel. I texted, asking if she was okay. She gave the camera a thumbs-up.

Then I checked Sebastian's feed. He was on his knees in front of the opening, his head moving as he gave the customer what looked like an intense blowjob.

The man browsing the store came up to the counter. He laid down some cash and asked about the glory holes. I explained the rules. He agreed, paid, and went into the back room.

When I checked the monitor again, Sebastian was getting to his feet. The opening was covered.

For the next few minutes, I kept finding reasons to stay beside the register. I straightened the receipts. Counted the change. Moved the returned box from one end of the counter to the other. I liked watching.

Eventually, the first customer came out.

I stood up straight.

He stopped at the counter, glanced back down the aisle, then looked at me.

"You open tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Same hours."

He nodded.

"Good."

I waited for a question about who had been behind the partition. He didn't ask. He put his hands in his pockets and left.

I stood there wondering whether he'd gotten a blowjob from Sebastian or my wife.

By closing time, I'd explained the rules so many times I could have recited them in my sleep.

Not everybody paid. A few people asked questions and left. One man wanted me to make an exception and tell him who was in which compartment. I told him no, and he bought a pocket pussy instead.

But enough people stayed.

After the last customer left, I locked the front door and counted the drawer.

I lost my place twice.

Sebastian came out first, carrying his bag. His hair was still damp around the edges, and he dropped onto the stool beside the counter with a long breath.

"How was it?" I asked.

He looked up.

"Good."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Better or worse than you expected?"

He rested his bag between his feet.

"Different."

"How?"

Lydia appeared at the end of the aisle before he could answer.

"Am I missing the staff meeting?"

"No," I said.

"Apparently he wants a full report," Sebastian told her.

She came behind the counter and leaned against me.

"Conscientious boss."

"I wanted to know how it went."

"So did I." She looked at Sebastian. "Well?"

He considered the question.

"I thought I'd spend more time trying to guess who was outside."

"Did you?" I asked.

"At first. Then I stopped worrying about it."

That surprised me.

"You didn't want to know?"

"Sometimes. But wanting to know isn't the same as needing to."

Lydia nodded.

"Exactly."

I looked at her.

"You too?"

"The first few minutes were awful."

"You told me you were okay."

"I was okay. I was nervous." She rubbed her forehead. "I could hear somebody in the next booth, and I kept wondering whether they were going to leave. Whether anybody would actually be interested once they got back there."

"And then?"

"Then I had something else to think about."

She said it without teasing. I looked at her more closely.

"Was it what you wanted?"

"Yeah. Kinda. I only gave blowjobs. Maybe if I let them fuck my ass, it would have mixed it up more. Maybe tomorrow."

She gave me a tired smile.

I put my arm around her.

"Good."

Sebastian reached for one of the unopened bottles of water beneath the counter. I nodded before he asked.

Lydia looked at the money laid out beside the register.

"What about you?"

"Better than a normal Friday."

"How much better?"

I showed her the total.

She read it, then looked at Sebastian.

"Well."

He raised the bottle.

"To the paint."

I laughed.

"There were other improvements."

"None as tasteful."

Lydia picked up the sheet and checked it again.

"We shouldn't assume every night will be like this."

"I know."

"People were curious."

"I know that too."

She set it down.

"I'd do it again."

I looked at her.

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

Sebastian nodded.

"I'm still in. I had a different evening. I gave up my ass twice. That and four blowjobs kept me busy."

I felt relieved. More relieved than the money explained.

Lydia noticed me looking between them.

"What?"

"Nothing. I wasn't sure how you'd both feel afterward."

"I would have enjoyed it more if I was getting my pussy stuffed," she said.

I opened my mouth to explain why she couldn't, and she held up her hand.

"I know. Same arrangement in both rooms." She looked at Sebastian. "But it's not my fault he wasn't born with a pussy."

Sebastian smiled and blew her a kiss. Then they both started laughing.

I gathered the cash and started counting again.

She watched for a moment.

"Didn't you already do that?"

"Lost my place."

"Want me to?"

"Please."

We exchanged positions. Lydia counted while I checked the back-room lights. Sebastian followed me as far as the doorway, looking over the room before I switched them off.

"Anything need changing?" I asked.

"One of the covers sticks a little."

"Which one?"

He showed me. I tried it twice and made a note on my phone.

"That all?"

"Everything I can think of tonight."

We stood in the passage for a moment.

Then I asked, "You really stopped wondering?"

He turned toward me.

"About the customers?"

"Yeah."

"Not completely. Just enough to enjoy being there."

I nodded.

Sebastian watched me.

"What did you think?"

"About what?"

"Tonight."

"It went well."

"I meant apart from the money."

I looked toward the front. Lydia was still counting, her head bent over the drawer.

"I spent more time watching than I expected."

He didn't smile or make a joke.

"Watching which room?"

"Both."

The answer came quickly enough to surprise me.

I looked down at the note on my phone.

"I need to fix that cover before tomorrow."

"Sure."

He stepped aside, and I switched off the lights.

Back at the counter, Lydia had finished.

"You were right," she said. "Good night."

"Yeah."

She handed me the total, and I put it with the receipts.

Sebastian collected his bag.

"See you tomorrow."

"Thanks for tonight," Lydia said.

"Thank you."

He looked at me.

"Night, Ken."

"Night."

After he left, Lydia put her arms around my waist.

"Well? Still glad we kept the booths?"

I kissed her.

"Yeah. I am."

"Maybe you should come back when we get a break in the action," she said with a smile. "Just don't mix us up."

I didn't know how to respond. I just looked at her for a moment before she headed out to the car.

On the way home, she talked about the evening. I listened, asked questions, and laughed when she described how many times she'd checked the clock before the first customer arrived.

She sounded happy.

I was happy too.

But when she asked what I was thinking about, I told her the sticking cover.

It was the only part I knew how to explain.

---

I woke before the alarm and lay there for a few minutes, thinking about the shop.

Then I got up.

Lydia stirred while I was pulling on my jeans.

"What time is it?"

"Just after six."

She lifted her head enough to look at the clock.

"Why?"

"I want to get those hooks and slings sorted before we open. Fix that sticking cover too."

"Now?"

"Easier while the place is empty."

She lowered her head onto the pillow.

"Coffee first, Ken."

"I'll get some on the way."

"And eat something."

"I will."

By the time I reached the shop, I'd thought of two more jobs.

Last night, Lydia had spent the first few minutes wondering whether anyone was actually in the booth beside her. Neither she nor Sebastian could see the customer corridor from the private compartments.

An indicator light would solve that. One above each opening, linked to the latch on the corresponding customer door. Door locked, light on. They'd know somebody was there without having to listen for footsteps.

I wrote it down before I forgot.

The other idea took longer to put on the list.

Cameras in the customer hallway.

Not inside the booths. Just the passage, where I could see who went through which door.

I told myself it was sensible. I couldn't leave the register every time somebody needed help finding a booth. If there was trouble, I'd want to know where it started. I'd also have to put up a notice so nobody mistook the corridor for part of the private space. And I could see how many people were using the video booths.

All reasonable.

None of it explained why the first thing I pictured was that customer asking whether we'd be open again tomorrow.

I still didn't know which compartment he'd visited.

I put the list down and went to work.

The sticking cover took less than twenty minutes. One screw had been pulling the track slightly out of line. I corrected it, tested it several times, then tried it from inside Sebastian's compartment.

He'd been right. It had caught just before closing.

I stood there a moment longer than I needed to.

From this side, the room felt different. I could hear a delivery truck outside and the hum of a screen I'd left on. Beyond the partition was an empty customer booth, but I couldn't see it.

I closed the cover.

Then I went to the front of the shop and collected the sling packages.

The ceiling supports had been checked since Lydia suggested the slings. I kept the instructions beside me while I worked, stopping whenever something didn't match what I'd expected. By the time I'd finished setting everything up, my coffee was cold and the breakfast sandwich was still in its wrapper.

My phone rang.

Lydia.

"Have you eaten?"

I looked at the sandwich.

"Working on it."

"That means no."

"It means I'm unwrapping it."

"How's it going?"

"Hooks are in. Slings are up. I want you both to check the fit before we call them finished."

"Good."

"And I'm thinking of adding little occupancy lights. You'd know which neighboring booth had somebody in it."

"That would've been useful last night."

"That's what I thought."

"I like it."

I picked at the edge of the sandwich wrapper.

"I'm also thinking about cameras in the hallway."

There was a short pause.

"The customer hallway?"

"Yeah. Just the corridor."

"What for?"

"So I can keep track of what's going on without leaving the front. If somebody needs help or starts bothering people."

"As long as they know the cameras are there."

"I'll put up a notice."

"And nothing looking into a booth when the door opens."

"I'll make sure of it."

"All right."

I waited for another question. She didn't ask one.

Instead, she said, "Eat your breakfast before you invent another job."

After we hung up, I sat behind the counter and finally ate.

On the monitor, the two private compartments were empty.

I'd been quite happy with that view when I installed the cameras. I wanted to know Lydia and Sebastian were all right. That had seemed like enough.

Now I was planning to add the part I couldn't see.

I could call it security when Lydia asked. I could write it under improvements in the notebook.

I was pretty sure that first customer got Lydia. If he came back tonight, I wanted to know which door he chose. Would he try to get her again?

By Saturday evening, the hallway camera was working and the new lights had been tested enough times that Lydia told me to stop locking doors.

"They work, Ken."

"I'm checking."

"You're checking something you already checked."

She was right. I set the tools aside.

"Before you get changed," I said, "try the slings. I'd rather make adjustments now."

Lydia followed me into the first compartment. Sebastian stayed in the doorway while she inspected what I'd installed.

She sat carefully, keeping her feet on the floor, then settled her weight into the leather.

"Well?" I asked.

"Give me a second."

She shifted, checking how it supported her, then looked toward the wall.

"A little lower."

I helped her up and made the adjustment. She got back into the sling and pressed her ass against the opening, with the backs of her legs flat against the wall.

This time, she nodded.

"That's better."

Lydia leaned back and shifted in the sling, testing how much room she had to move.

Sebastian leaned into the compartment.

"Lean back a little farther."

She did, letting her head hang over the end of the sling. I saw what he meant: her mouth lined up with the opposite opening, upside down. Her lips pressed against the closed cover.

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," Lydia said. "But it'll probably get uncomfortable quickly."

She lifted her head and looked at me.

"Good thing we tried it before opening."

We repeated the checks in the other compartment, with Sebastian taking a turn too. By the time we finished, they were both happy.

Sebastian got to his feet and looked at the sling once more.

"Nice work, Ken."

I glanced at him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

He'd said my name correctly without being reminded. Apparently that was all it took to distract me now.

When they got ready, Sebastian took the compartment Lydia had used the night before.

"Switching?" I asked.

"That was the plan," Lydia said. "Remember?"

"I remember."

She carried her bag into the other room.

I watched them go, then returned to the counter.

The man from Friday came in just after seven.

Same jacket. Same quiet nod when he recognized me.

"Back again," he said.

"So I see."

There were already a few customers browsing. He waited while I rang up a purchase, then stepped forward with his money ready.

"Anything changed?"

"Occupancy lights for the participants. And there's a camera in the customer hallway now."

His eyes went to the notice beside the entrance.

"Just the hallway?"

"Just the hallway. Nothing inside the customer booths."

He nodded.

I handed him his receipt.

"And remember, the private compartments aren't assigned to particular people."

"I remember."

He folded the receipt without looking at it.

"Have a good night."

"You too."

I watched him walk down the aisle.

Then I looked at the monitor.

The new feed showed him pause in the corridor. He checked one door, moved past it, and entered the booth beside Sebastian's compartment.

Yesterday, that would have put him next to Lydia.

I'd thought knowing which door he chose would settle something. Instead, I found myself wondering whether he'd picked it because he remembered it or because it was the first empty one he found.

The booth door shut.

On the other feed, Sebastian glanced toward the indicator light.

I straightened and turned to the customer waiting at the counter.

"Find everything?"

She held up a package.

"Does this take batteries?"

I showed her where it said rechargeable.

---

The man came out about twenty minutes later.

I recognized his jacket on the hallway feed before I saw him in the shop. He stopped to look at a display near the doorway, then came over.

"Well," he said.

I waited.

"Glad I got the same one."

He sounded certain. Not like he was asking me to confirm it.

I looked at him.

"What makes you think that?"

He shrugged.

"You can tell."

I thought about Lydia and Sebastian standing together after our trial. Two hoods. Two perfectly ordinary explanations for being in the same room.

"People can be mistaken," I said.

"Maybe."

He smiled, untroubled by the possibility.

"Anyway. Good night."

"Night."

He left before I could think of anything else to ask.

I stayed at the counter, looking at the door.

I'd been pretty sure he'd visited Lydia on Friday. Now he'd visited Sebastian and believed he'd found the same person.

Either my guess was wrong, or his certainty was.

My phone vibrated.

Lydia.

Everything okay up front?

I typed, Yes.

Then I added, That first guy came back.

The one who asked about tonight?

Yeah. He thinks he got the same person.

A moment passed before her reply appeared.

Did he?

I looked down at the monitor.

I don't know.

There you go.

I put the phone beside the register.

For two days, I'd been telling people that they might never know who was behind the wall.

Apparently, I was the one having trouble accepting it.

The last customer left a few minutes after closing.

I locked the front door, turned the sign around, and carried the cleaning supplies into the back room. The hallway was empty. A screen was still playing behind one of the open doors.

I set the supplies down and took out my phone.

All locked up. I'll clean the video booths while you two get changed.

Lydia replied before I put it away.

Cleaning can wait. Try one first.

I smiled and started typing.

Which one are you--

Another message appeared.

Same rules as everyone else. No asking who.

I stopped typing.

Somewhere beyond the partitions, a door closed. I looked toward the end of the hallway, but nobody appeared.

I read her message again.

She knew I'd assume it would be her. She also knew exactly why I might doubt that.

I deleted my unfinished question.

Either of you?

Her answer was short.

Either. Your choice whether to try.

I stood there with my thumb over the screen.

I could go back to the counter. It would take ten seconds to check the monitor and find out where they were. I'd installed the cameras myself. Nobody could stop me looking.

But I'd have my answer before I even chose a door.

I glanced toward the shop, then typed:

Okay.

I put the phone in my pocket.

For a moment, I listened. A faint movement came from behind one wall, followed by silence. Trying to identify footsteps seemed ridiculous when I'd just agreed not to ask.

I picked up the cleaning supplies and moved them out of the way.

Then I walked past the first booth and stopped at the next one.

Nothing about it had changed since I'd checked it that afternoon. Same seat. Same screen. Same little scuff on the doorframe that I'd meant to touch up.

I stepped inside and pulled the door shut.

My hand rested on the latch.

On the other side, a light would come on when I locked it. Someone would know I was there.

I slid the latch across.

I heard movement on the other side of the closed panel. A minute later it slid open and the round opening was filled with a pair of latex covered butt cheeks. The suits crotch zipper was opened just enough to reveal the person's asshole. It was filled with a buttplug.

My phone vibrated with another message from my wife.

Pull out the plug and suck the cum out of that stretched-out asshole. Once you've cleaned up that creampie, you can fuck that asshole.

She wanted me to pull the plug and eat the person's ass. I couldn't tell who it was from the little bit of exposed skin. I figured I had a fifty-fifty chance of it being my wife. Not great odds if I wanted to be sure, but either way, I got to lick and fuck someone's ass.

A few times, my wife had given me creampies from other men who'd fucked her. But I'd always licked them out of her pussy. This might not even be her asshole I was about to rim.

It was wild and kinky as fuck. It made me feel like a submissive little bitch. Not what I wanted to be to Sebastian.

Or did I?

I reached out, grasped the flared base of the plug, and slowly pulled it out. Holy shit. It was a big plug, and it really stretched the hole on the way out. The rim looked puffy and raw, and the hole stayed slightly open. As I dropped onto one knee, I saw a stream of cum start running out.

I pressed my open mouth against the slack hole and sucked up the cum like a kinky, submissive vacuum. Then I pushed my tongue inside and swirled it around a few times.

My phone vibrated again. I pulled away and read her text.

Good job, cumsucker. There's a bottle of lube on the bench behind you. Lube up your dick and fuck that hole.

I picked up the bottle and got to my feet. I dropped my pants and squirted some lubricant onto my hard cock. I spread a thick layer over it, then pushed my dick into the asshole in front of me.

It felt so hot and soft inside. I slowly sank all the way in. Once I bottomed out, I pulled back, then pushed in again. I fucked that asshole with long strokes, going faster and faster until I came deep inside it. After catching my breath for a minute, I pulled out.

I was pulling up my pants when my phone vibrated again. As I checked it, the person moved away from the opening, and the cover slammed shut.

I looked back down at the phone.

One of us wants you to push that plug into your own ass and will be really disappointed if you don't.

Fuck.

I picked up the plug and studied it. Silicone. Probably one and a half to one and three-quarter inches across at its widest point. It had a blunt, rounded tip and a thick neck that was well over an inch wide. It would keep my hole stretched open once inserted.

I sold them in the store for $39.95.

That gave me an idea.

I opened the door and rushed out into the store. I went to the aisle with the dildos and butt plugs and grabbed a box off the shelf. I carried it back into the booth and closed the door.

I unboxed the smaller plug and slathered it with lube. Then I worked it into my ass. I got it most of the way in before pulling it back out and adding more lube. When I pushed again, I got it seated inside.

I picked up the attached inflation bulb and gave it a pump. I felt the plug expand. A couple more slow pumps started to stretch me. I gave myself a minute before pumping it again.

I turned the knob, and the air escaped with a hiss. I pulled the plug out and pumped it four times. It was still only half as thick as the other one.

I released the air and pushed it back into my ass. I quickly pumped it four times and felt it stretch me. I gave it another pump, then pulled it partway out and pushed it back in. One more pump made me moan as it stretched me wider.

I thought about giving up, but I pumped it again instead. Another pump after that had me seeing stars. I gave it one more. That had to be enough stretching to take the other plug.

I spread lube on the silicone plug and set it on the bench. Then I released the air from the inflatable one and pulled it out. I felt strangely empty for a moment.

I pushed the other one in. It felt like I was gonna split in two.

I pulled up my pants and walked out front. Lydia and Sebastian were sitting at the counter.

"Are you finally done cleaning? I want to go home, Ken," Lydia asked.

Sebastian looked like he was trying not to smile.

"I'm done."

Lydia picked up her bag.

"Good. I'm tired."

Sebastian slid off his stool and reached for his jacket.

I looked between them.

"What?" Lydia asked.

"That last text."

"What about it?"

"Whose idea was it?"

She tilted her head.

"Is that what you've been thinking about all this time?"

"Lydia."

"What?"

"Was it yours?"

"Would that make a difference?"

Sebastian bent to pick up his bag. I couldn't see his expression.

I took out my phone, although there was no reason to. We all knew which message I meant.

"You said one of you."

"And you want to know which one."

"Yes."

She looked at me for a moment.

"Which one did you think?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

Sebastian straightened.

"I should get going."

I turned toward him.

"You're awfully quiet."

"You two are having a conversation."

"You don't know anything about it?"

"Which part?"

Lydia looked down as she adjusted the strap of her bag. I thought she was hiding a smile.

"You're both doing it," I said.

"Doing what?" she asked.

I shook my head.

Sebastian walked toward the door.

"Night, Kenny."

I didn't correct him.

He paused with his hand on the handle, then looked back.

"See you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

After he left, I locked the door and stood with my hand on the key.

Lydia waited beside the counter.

"Are you going to ask me something else?"

"Would I get an answer?"

"You might."

"Have you and Sebastian been planning things?"

"What sort of things?"

I looked at her.

She held my gaze.

"That's a very broad question, Ken."

"You know what I mean."

"I know you've spent the last five minutes asking who had an idea. You haven't told me whether you liked it."

"That's a different question."

"Yes," she said. "It is."

I put my phone away.

She picked up the car keys.

"I'll drive."

"Why?"

"Because you've got enough on your mind."

I followed her outside and checked the lock.

As we reached the car, she glanced at me.

"You never did answer."

"Neither did you."

That time, she didn't bother hiding the smile.

Lydia left me alone on the drive home.

That should have been a relief. Instead, every time my phone shifted against my leg, I took it out to check.

Nothing.

By morning, I'd decided Sebastian would be easier to talk to without her there.

I sent him a message.

Can you come in a little early? Could use a hand.

His reply arrived while I was still holding the phone.

Sure. What time?

I told him.

Then I spent the next hour thinking about what I would ask.

---

Sebastian arrived carrying coffee. He set a second cup beside the register.

"Morning."

"Thanks."

"What needed fixing?"

I looked at him.

"You said you could use a hand."

"Right."

He waited.

"There isn't really anything broken."

Sebastian took the lid off his coffee.

"Okay."

"I wanted to talk."

"So talk."

It had seemed easier before he got there. Now he stood on the other side of the counter, perfectly comfortable, while I picked at the cardboard sleeve around my cup.

"About last night."

"What about it?"

I looked toward the front door. We weren't open yet.

"If it had been you, would you have told me?"

Sebastian stopped stirring.

He set the little wooden stick on the lid, then looked up.

"Are you still wearing the plug?"

I felt my face get hot.

"What does that have to do with this?"

"I predicted that if you were left to choose, you'd take the easy way out."

I put my coffee down.

"Predicted to who?"

He didn't answer.

"Lydia?"

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Neither have you."

He nodded, conceding that much.

I stared at him. One word had told me more than anything either of them had said the night before.

Predicted.

"You've been discussing what I'd do."

"Would you rather we guessed wrong?"

"I'd rather you stopped answering everything with another question."

"All right. Then answer this: are you still wearing the plug?"

He folded his arms and waited.

The silence was worse.

"I am," I whispered.

"No, you're not. Don't bullshit me," Sebastian replied with a smile.

"I am. I promise."

"I don't believe you. In fact, I'm so sure you're not that if I'm wrong, I'll let you suck my dick."

"You're on," I replied quickly.

That was when I realized the trap I'd walked into.

Sebastian's smile widened.

I looked down at my coffee.

"That came out fast," he said.

"I was answering the bet."

"I heard you."

"You know what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

I looked up.

"There you go again."

He raised both hands, then let them fall.

"All right. Tell me."

I'd been so eager to prove him wrong that I hadn't stopped to consider what I was agreeing to. Now he was waiting, giving me every opportunity to explain it away.

Nothing convincing came to mind.

"You set that up," I said.

"I made you an offer."

"Disguised as a bet."

"Would you have preferred I asked directly?"

I rubbed a hand over my face.

Sebastian's expression softened.

"You don't owe me anything because you answered too quickly, Ken."

"I know."

"Good."

He picked up his coffee.

That should have ended it. I could have checked the till, opened the shop, and spent the morning pretending I hadn't embarrassed myself.

Instead, I said, "You were pretty sure of yourself."

He lowered the cup.

"About the bet?"

"About how I'd answer."

"Were you hoping I'd be wrong?"

I let out a short laugh.

"I don't know why I thought getting you here alone would make this easier."

"Easier to ask questions?"

"Easier to get answers."

He nodded toward my phone.

"Does Lydia know that's why you asked me to come early?"

"No."

"Then maybe start by telling her."

I looked at the phone but didn't pick it up.

Last night, I'd agreed not to know who was behind a wall. This morning, there wasn't a wall to blame.

Sebastian was standing right in front of me.

And I was the one who'd asked him to come.

We stood there, looking at each other for a minute.

"I am wearing the plug. Let's go in the back, and I'll show you."

"Really, Ken?"

"I'll make good on that bet. Though I'm pretty sure I won, and somehow it still feels like I'm losing."

Sebastian smiled.

"You're the one keeping score."

"Come on."

I led him down the aisle, through the staff entrance, and into the private compartment he'd used last night. He closed the door behind us.

"Well, Kenny?"

I turned toward him.

This time, I let the name go.

"Do you want me to stay here," Sebastian asked, "or would you rather have the wall between us?"

I looked at the closed cover, then back at him.

"Through the hole."

"Which hole are you giving up first?" Sebastian asked.

"I don't know. I expected you to take charge."

"You need to ask me."

"Will you please take charge, Sebastian?"

"If you'll do everything I ask."

"Okay."

Sebastian took out his phone and started typing. He looked up for a moment.

"Strip."

I slowly started taking my clothes off while he went back to typing. As I pulled off my pants, he reached into his bag, took out his latex hood, and handed it to me.

"Put this on."

Once I'd lined up the hood's eyeholes, I saw Sebastian lean over the sling and slide both covers open.

"Get in the sling, Ken. Line yourself up with those holes while I go around. Whichever door I open is the hole I'm gonna fuck. Got it?"

I nodded.

"No. You need to say it. Understand?"

"Yes, I understand," I squeaked.

Sebastian walked out, and I climbed into the sling. I lifted my legs and rested them against the wall as I slid my ass closer to the hole. Then I lay back and let my hooded head hang over the end of the sling. Whichever room Sebastian picked, I was ready.

Well, maybe not ready, but I was in place. My heart was pounding, and I was sweating under the tight latex hood. How the fuck could they wear a whole latex suit for hours on end?

I heard the door open in the booth behind my head. I leaned back farther, giving Sebastian access to my mouth.

I heard him taking off his clothes. Then he whispered through the hole.

"I loved when you licked my asshole and sucked the cum out of it. I want you to rim me again. Too bad I'm not filled with cum for you to suck out, though."

He pressed his spread cheeks against the hole, and I pushed my tongue against the puckered opening. He moaned loudly when my tongue made contact.

"I guess you've figured out it was my ass you fucked. You've got a nice cock, but it's not as long and thick as mine. I'm gonna fuck your mouth next. Once we get your ass opened up, I'm gonna fuck that hole too."

I'm not gonna lie. I'd thought it was my wife's ass I'd been rimming and had gotten to fuck. Knowing now that it was Sebastian's was kinda kinky.

I hoped his cock wasn't bigger than the plug currently stretching me.

Wait, no. That wasn't really true. I hoped they'd open me up more so I could take his and ones even bigger.

Fuck. I really was a submissive bitch.

I really liked licking his asshole too. He was right, though. I wished it was full of cum.

I was working my tongue into his hole when he pulled away. When Sebastian turned around, I was shocked by how big his cock actually was. How the hell had he hidden that thick piece of meat in that tight latex catsuit?

He pressed it to my lips.

"Open up, Kenny."

I opened my mouth, and he slid it between my wide-spread lips. He kept pushing till it hit the back of my throat. When I gagged, he pulled back, then fucked his cock into my mouth. Again and again.

I jumped when someone grasped the plug stretching my ass. I didn't know it was my wife till she spoke.

"I hope my submissive husband is ready to get my strap-on cock stuffed in his slutty asshole."

I didn't think it could be anyone else in the locked shop, but hearing her voice was reassuring. Even if it was some wildly twisted shit she was saying.

Lydia pulled the big plug out of my ass while Sebastian continued to fuck my face. My neck was hurting, and my throat was irritated from him trying to push his cock into it. I needed a moment to shift into a more comfortable position but it was impossible to ask for a break when getting throat-fucked.

Lydia started pushing a big dildo into my asshole. It did stretch me more than the plug. I wished they were in the same room with me. I wanted to see their faces.

Getting fucked through a hole in the wall was so impersonal. It made me feel like I was just a tool used to get them off.

That bothered me for a moment. Then I realized I liked that part too.

I loved the thought of being a cock sleeve. People could buy one in the store or come to the back room and fuck a live one like me.

Lydia was pounding my ass, and I felt the dildo rubbing against my prostate. Not that I knew what it was at the time. I only knew it felt good. Like, really good.

I was surprised when I came. I hadn't even touched my dick, but I came, and it felt better than any time before.

I writhed in the sling as Lydia kept pounding me, making the orgasm feel like it would never end. Then Sebastian shot into my throat. He pulled back, and the rest dumped onto my tongue.

If this was what being a submissive slut was, I would gladly take the job.

By the time we were getting dressed, I'd rehearsed three different ways to ask.

Sebastian was putting his things back in his bag. Lydia stood beside the door, checking her phone.

"When did you two decide?" I asked.

She looked up. "Decide what?"

I nearly let her get away with it.

"This. Me."

Sebastian stopped packing.

Lydia slipped her phone into her pocket. "We talked. We didn't know what you'd want."

"You seemed pretty sure."

"I was hoping."

That answer left me with less to argue about than I'd expected.

I pulled my shirt over my head. Neither of them hurried me. Somehow, that made asking harder.

"Those suits," I said.

Sebastian glanced at the bag.

"What about them?"

"Would we have to order another one?"

Lydia watched me.

"For you?"

I nodded, then remembered how much I hated waiting for other people to explain themselves.

"Yeah. For me."

"We could. But the customers would figure out who you were pretty easily. You're bigger than either of us. Plus, you wouldn't be at the counter." She paused. "We shouldn't even group you with the mystery submissives. You could be a special feature performer with your own room. Maybe one bigger than our booths."

Sebastian chimed in. "You could have multiple guests in the same room, taking turns fucking your holes."

I kinda liked the sound of that.

"I don't think we can leave you in a room full of people with your cock out for you and them to play with," Lydia said. "I'm thinking we're gonna have to lock you in a cock cage. But they can give you more prostate orgasms than you can handle."

"Okay, I guess."

"We can even get you a suit with an open crotch so everyone can see your cage. And they can see every time they make you cum."

"That sound good."

The shop would open in less than an hour. I still had to count the drawer and put the sign outside. Yesterday, those had been the things I thought about when I came to work.

Lydia took a breath. "But who runs the front?"

For a moment, I just stared at her. I'd prepared for surprise. Questions. Maybe even a laugh.

She was asking about the schedule.

"We could take turns."

"We could," she said.

I sat on the edge of the stool.

Buying the shop had taken years. Every extra shift, every repair Arthur hadn't wanted to pay for, every time I'd imagined running the place myself.

Now I was trying to work out how little time I could spend behind the counter.

Sebastian picked up his bag.

"I can cover the front for a while."

"Thanks."

"No problem, Kenny."

I looked up at him.

He waited for the correction.

I reached for my shoes.