(Wall of Porn)

Video Booths

There is a wall of porn opposite the front counter. I was only able to capture a small section of this wall in the picture above. The videos displayed are those videos that are playing in the video booths. There are at least 10 video booths . . . possibly more. I should have counted them before I made this post, but . . . oh well. You will just have to come down and see for yourself.

The video booths are private . . . very similar to the peep show booths. They cost $1.00 for a few minutes . . . less than five. When you walk into the booth, there are two television screens; one on top of the other. Once the video starts, the screens are split into several sections . . . so you are actually watching several videos at the same time.

I found this to be a little distracting . . . until I found out that there are some buttons below that you can use to highlight the section of the split screen that you want to watch. You then push another button and that video comes up on the entire screen. They periodically change the movies to ensure the customers aren't watching the same videos over and over again.

When you walk down the hallway, there are video booths on either side, with doors facing you. The girls have to walk down this hallway to get to the dressing room. There is usually always someone in the video booths when I walk by. They lean against the booth door, facing the video, and you can often see that they're masturbating via their shadow below. Sometimes when you walk by, you can hear moaning, or other sounds of self-gratification.

I often look at their shoes and at the bottoms of their pants when I walk by. I am always curious as to who is on the other side of the door. Sometimes the shoes and pants are very expensive looking and sometimes they're wearing dirty old tennis shoes and sweat pants. Sometimes the expensive shoes are standing right next to the old tennis shoes. I like this juxtaposition.

Sometimes, you will walk down the hallway and a customer will have his pants down to his ankles. When I see this, I'm always half tempted to open the door as the customer is usually leaning against it . . . and this would almost guarantee that he would fall backwards, naked on the ground.

I have heard stories of customers getting totally naked in the booth and squatting down, so you can seem them below the door. In case you didn't know, Washington State law requires that all booth doors have a two foot gap at the bottom.

Most of the customers, however, are very discreet. They just come to watch their movie, get off, and leave












(New pics of Azar, sitting on stage)





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(Picture Azar took of me on stage . . . fully clothed)

The Man Who Lost His Penis

It was a fairly normal day . . . well, for this place at least.

I was walking out front to fill my water bottle at the water fountain when the manager stopped me and asked if I would be interested in doing a show for a special customer. He went on to tell me that the customer was a cross-dresser. The manager had been helping the customer pick out some women's lingerie downstairs when the customer inquired about the shows upstairs. The manager said the customer was paying for his clothes right now, but would be up shortly.

I told the manager I would be happy to do the show and went back to the dressing room to wait for the customer. I picked up the Adbusters magazine I had been reading and tried to look relaxed. A couple minutes went by and the manager came around the corner with the customer in tow. They stopped in front of my booth, facing me. The manager turned to the customer and appeared to be giving him the run down on how the shows work. The customer smiled and nodded and the manager waved goodbye to me and left.

The customer put one finger up as to indicate that he would be right back. I smiled and mouthed, "O.k." He was carrying a large duffle style bag, in addition to a large plastic bag, containing his recent purchases.

A couple more minutes passed and the customer emerged from the bathroom, looking the same as he did before. I half expected him to come out with a lace teddy on . . . or something to that effect.

The customer walked into the booth, placed his things on the floor and picked up the phone. I asked him if he had been here before and he said, "No." I went over the different shows and the prices. He decided on the basic $20.00 show and proceeded to put his money into the bill acceptor. I closed the shade to the hallway, while his shade went up.

The customer was a 40-something year old male and he reminded me of a biker. He had a large round face and a husky build. His hair was salt and pepper in color and had a wiry texture. He had a matching beard and mustache, in addition to a tuft of hair that spilt over the top of his button-down shirt.

The customer greeted me with large brown eyes, framed with endless lashes. I was struck by how kind his eyes were compared to his otherwise, rugged appearance. They revealed a sensitivity that I rarely see around here . . . a sensitivity that women often reveal. I was immediately drawn to him . . . not sexually, but emotionally.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi," he responded, looking a little shy.

I started to undress slowly for him. A smile spread across his face.

"Do you mind if I get more comfortable?," he asked.

"Of course not," I said.

He started to undo his shirt, revealing a black lace bodysuit. He undid his pants, pulled them down to his ankles, and stepped out of them entirely. "Oh, you look beautiful," I said.

"Thank you," he said, coyly.

"You look beautiful too," he went on.

"Thank you," I said.

He went on to say that he bought the black lace bodysuit downstairs. I asked him if he wore women's clothing very often. "Yes, I wear womens underwear underneath my clothes everyday," he said. He went on to tell me that he is single, but has a lot of male friends. Once in a while, they all get together and dress up (like women) and go out on the town. I looked at him, trying to imagine him out in public dressed up like a woman. His eyes were the only feminine feature he had. He had a large round pie face covered in thick wiry hair and his body was short and thick. I just couldn't picture it.

I sat back with my legs underneath me . . . naked. He did not seem so interested in me being naked. He was very complimentary and told me that I had a nice figure, but it seemed like he was more interested in talking. He wanted to be seen and heard, and I was happy to admire and listen.

He reached down between his legs, searching for the snaps to the bodysuit. It took him a moment, but he was finally able to undo the snaps. He pulled the flap up and tucked it under the top portion of the bodysuit, so it now looked like a black lace tank top. My eyes followed his hands back down in front of his groin. He had a large mound of thick black hair between his legs, but something was terribly wrong. I searched and searched, but it was not there.

This customer, with the big brown sensitive eyes, had no penis.

I was not sure how to bring this up. It was obvious the customer knew I would notice, but how would I acknowledge this. My mind raced for possibilities: "So, where's your penis? Wow, that must have hurt. Did you have an accident?" I didn't know what to say. I finally decided on, "Did you have the operation?", meaning "Are you post-op?"

He smiled and said, "No, I lost it in an accident."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said.

"That's o.k., it happened a long time ago," he said.

I didn't ask him any more questions about it and he didn't offer any more info.

He went on to tell me that he just started taking womens hormones and has decided to go through the change. I didn't say anything, but I thought to myself that it didn't seem to be working very well. I mean this guy was as manly as they come. I guess it takes a while for the hormones to kick in.

I got the nerve up and asked the customer if he could still have an orgasm. He smiled and said, "Yes."

He bent down and started going through his duffle bag. He pulled out a butt plug and some lube. He opened the lube and sqeezed out a glob on his hand. He reached around and appeared to be rubbing the lube on his bottom. He then put some lube on the plug and reached around again, working the plug into his behind. He took his other hand and started rubbing his mound of thick dark hair. His eyes closed a little and his mouth opened. I could tell that he was feeling some sensation.

I laid back and watched in awe. This was something that I had never seen before. My hands lightly glided up and down the inside of my thighs, resting now and then between my legs. The customer seemed to be in his own world now and did not need me to perform for him to come. He just needed me to watch.

He continued to rub his mound in a rythmic motion just like a woman. He seemed so vulnerable and I felt special in a way . . . like he trusted me.

The rubbing became more feverish and his face began to tighten a little. His body hunched forward and then relaxed as he let out a long sigh. Wow, could that have been it?, I thought to myself. I looked to see if there was any cum. I wondered if cum came out, or if that was all sealed off now.

I finally asked, "Did you come?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Does it feel the same," I asked.

"No, but it still feels good," he said.

I wanted to ask him a ton of questions, but didn't. He did tell me that he is able to go to the bathroom out of his urethra . . . that he doesn't have a catheter, but that cum doesn't come out when he has an orgasm.

He started to dress himself and thanked me for the show. I thanked him for being so open and then he left.

As I dressed, I mulled over what I had just witnessed.

For some reason, I felt closer to humankind.







(Girl peeking from her booth to talk to me)



(Picture Girl colored when it was slow . . . we often color with crayons)



(The "E" in love is not visible in this pic . . . but I do love Girl's ass)







(Pic of Fantasy with Space Needle in background)



(Closeup pic of Fantasy . . . Retail store downstairs - Adult Theatre and Peep Show upstairs)

I've had some requests for the address and location of Fantasy. So here you go:

2027 WESTLAKE AVENUE, SEATTLE, WA

If you need directions, call (206)622-4669.

Hope to see you soon!!








(This is the picture that greets me everyday as I arrive to work.)



(Here's another pic near the fantasy booths.)

Fantasy Girls

There are several pics like the ones shown above nicely displayed throughout Fantasy. All of the pics show girls with bloated boobs and nicely shaved pussies, revealing pink lips.

None of the girls working at Fantasy have boob jobs, although most of us do have shaved pussies. The girls who are shaved do this because they, themselves, prefer the look and feel.

Most of the girls I work with have average sized breasts . . . I guess that means a B cup. Girl and I have the smallest breasts of the group (A cups).

I'm not offended by the pictures (I think they have great campy appeal), I just think it's funny that they have these stereotypical "centerfold" looking girls pasted all over the walls, when the girls working here are mostly the hot
girl-next-door type. They are beautiful, have great "natural" bodies, and are real.

I think most of the customers prefer the natural body.

I know I do.










(New Pics of Azar)






(Inside my Booth)



(Outside Booths, Inside Dressing Room)

The Booth

The booth is a 3 x 3 ft (approximately) box, in which we perform our job.

There are three fantasy booths in addition to the stage. The booths consists of one wall, two windows (one facing the hallway, and one facing the customer), and one door that opens to the dressing room.

On the left side of the window, facing the customer, there is a speaker through which you can talk to the customer. Fortunately, the customer can hear you even if you are away from the speaker. On the right side of the window, there is a screen that displays the first four letters of your name. It is great if your name is four letters. I go by Natalia at work, so my name reads Nata on the display. I probably would have changed by name if I knew this beforehand, because I constantly have to explain that my name is Natalia, not Nata. Then there are those guys who just can't get Natalia . . . so they end up calling me Natalie or Natasha.

I've known several girls who had really great and original names, but the customers could never pronounce them, or would get tongue tied, so the dancers would end of changing them. Sometimes, the simple . . . girl next-door names work the best. Also, if a customer calls from work to see if his favorite dancer is working, they can ask for Sara instead of Star.

Below the display, there are some buttons. When you show up for work, you enter a code with these buttons so that your name will come up on display. The booths are hooked up to a computer program that keeps track of the money going into the machine. The computer is on the counter out front and the clerks monitor it. At the end of the day, the clerks pay us out. They look at the computer and see how much money is under our name. Then they go to the booth and take the money out of the machine and count it to make sure it matches the amount on the computer. They take $20.00 off the top for our stage fee, and then we get half of the remaining balance.

There is also a buttom to clear the time, should the customer finish early, and a buttom to close out the booth at the end of the day.

When a customer gets a show, the amount of time he buys shows up on the display where your name normally is. This way, you can keep track of the time and remind the customer when his time gets down there . . . especially if he hasn't come yet. There's a real art in bringing this up. You don't want to be too blunt about it (or matter of fact) because the guy is likely to lose his train of thought . . . or even his erection. I usually move closer to the glass and tell them that I want to see them come . . . all over my pussy, or my ass ( which ever they're into more). Sometimes, I tell them to stroke it faster and harder and I put my mouth down by their cock and act like I'm licking it. This usually does the trick.

The maximum number of girls working a shift is three as there is only three booths. The first girl to arrive gets to pick her booth. The middle booth is the most popular. Some of the girls don't like the first booth because it is the closest to the front counter and I think they worry that some customers will want more privacy (especially the customers with the stranger fantasies) and might go to a different booth because of this. However, the first booth opens onto the stage and you can sit on stage and still be seen from the hallway. This is nice as the 3 x 3 ft box can be a bit claustrophobic. I don't have a favorite booth, although I often end up in the last booth because I'm often the last to show up, and most of the girls like this booth even less than the first one.

There are days when we are quiet and just keep to ourselves. Most of us bring in books and read in our booths. I used to light a candle and read and write next to it. Unfortunately, one day I lit my wig on fire when I leaned across the flame to talk to a customer through the speaker. I was able to put out the flame right away, but it scared me (and my customer) pretty bad, not to mention it ruined my wig and emitted some pretty toxic fumes. Not long after that, a chair mysteriously caught on fire in the dressing room and the fire department had to come and put it out. As a result, management forbids us to light candles, incense, etc.

On the days when the girls are feeling social, we talk to each other either through the walls of our booths, or we poke our heads out and talk that way, while our ass is facing the window to the hallway. The guys don't seem to mind.

Sometimes (when it's slow) we will climb into a booth together and play games. We play cards, mad libs, or just color with crayons. One time, Girl and I were really bored and we made a ouija board(sp?). We were working with Dezyre at the time, and she got really mad at us. She is very superstitious and went on and on about how we were "fucking around with bad shit" and that we might "wake up the ghost of the old dead guy." (the guy who died in the theatre) She seemed genuinely worried, so we stopped.

There are other times, when Girl will ask if I'll rub her neck or back . I'll climb into her booth and give her a nice massage. Sometimes, I'll even have her lay her head in my lap, while I rub her temples. We have procured a couple of two girl shows, while doing this.

I've heard stories that along time ago (when things were wilder) girls used to close their shade to the hallway, close the booth door and "hot box it" in their booth. Some of them would fall asleep afterwards and the customer would have to knock on the window to wake them up for a show.

Overall, I prefer the quiet moments in my booth. I like to bring things from home (blankets, pillows, etc) to make it more comfortable. Although, all I really need is a good book . I just started "Choke" by Chuck Palahniuk . . . pure genius.






(Our lovely lockers)

Truth & Honesty

Syrenn finally came into work to clean out her locker. I was not there to say goodbye, but I heard she made quite an exit. She ripped her name off her locker and shredded it into many small pieces, which she threw about the room . . . all the while, saying, "Syrenn is dead, Syrenn is dead."

When her little ceremony was over, she gathered her things, exchanged numbers with some people, and left.

The girls at Fantasy (and probably most girls in the sex industry) are definitely multi-faceted and extremely interesting to work with.

For the first part of my adult life, I held a "normal" job. I worked for an insurance company for a while and eventually became an insurance adjuster (pretty funny . . . heh, heh). I handled the easy claims, i.e., first party (no liability), low exposure claims, as well as some PIP (Personal Injury Protection) claims. I found this job to be really interesting and challenging. However, I hated working PIP because the laws are so fucked up in Washington and the attorneys are assholes.

I eventually moved out of adjusting and transferred over to the corporate office in downtown Seattle, where I worked with senior management. I guess you would call this position Executive Assistant, or something along those lines. I found this work to be extremely boring and not very gratifying. The men I worked for had amazing egos, which required much attention. My desk was right outside the VP's office and he would often waste my time, calling me into his office to help him change his settings on his computer, or to show me his new web cam, or whatever new toy he had acquired

He often had other members of senior management in his office and I could overhear them talking about things they were going to buy (cars, houses, furniture, etc.), or trips they were going to take . . . blah, blah, blah. They would often all go to lunch together and walk by my desk in a big group. "We're going to lunch now . . . we'll be back in about an hour or so," my boss would say. They would all smile and wave goodbye as they filed by my desk.

My boss was nice enough and I got paid well. . . I just couldn't work with a bunch of good ole' boys, verbally snapping each other's asses like they were back in the high school gym locker room.

The other people in the office were nice too, but I always felt like they were trying to be something they weren't . . . trying to impress you.

I guess it was a nice surprise when I started working in the sex industry. It was the first time in my work experience that I actually felt people were being totally honest about themselves. I was surprised how vulnerable they allowed themselves to be.

They are so open and candid about their problems, disappointments, fears, shortcomings, etc. It is an environment in which you can be yourself and express yourself fully, and no one will judge you too harshly for it . . . well for the most part. Even strippers have their limits, but at least they are more likely to call you on it, instead of feeling bad about hurting your feelings.

I prefer truth and honesty and feel like it is somehow revealed here.

Who Links Here

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