Pagan Moss' Peep Show Stories

Thursday, June 17, 2004

Interview with the Moan



[ He is cute and he's holding a microphone, but this gentleman is not the customer in my story. I just happened to find his picture doing a google image search. Hopefully, none of his friends look at this site]

Interview with the Moan

The shade of a peep show window opens, revealing a scantly clad young woman doing yoga stretches on stage. As soon as she sees the customer, she stands up and sashays over to the window.

DANCER: Hi, honey. You been here before?

Feeling self-conscious, the young man looks down at his foot as he traces a half-circle onto the floor with it.

CUSTOMER: No, first time.

DANCER: Well, baby, it's a dollar in the machine to keep the window up for a minute. I'll show you my tits for five and my pussy for ten.

CUSTOMER: What if I don't want to see you naked?

The dancer stands straight up and puts her hands on her hips--her eyes burn into his flesh.

DANCER: Whadda ya mean you don't want to see me naked? You afraid of girls or somethin' ?

CUSTOMER: Oh, no . . . no. I didn't mean anything by that. Gosh, no, you're beautiful. It's just that I'm a student and I have this project that I'm working on for a class.

DANCER: Oh, of course; You're here on research.

The customer produces one medium-sized tape recorder and a large Donny and Marie microphone.

CUSTOMER: Yeah, I guess you could say that.

DANCER: What did you have in mind?

CUSTOMER: Well . . . I was hoping to record you moaning.

The dancer tilts her head to one side in contemplation.

DANCER: Moaning? This is for a class?

CUSTOMER: Yeah . . . media arts.

DANCER: What college?

CUSTOMER: High School.

A huge smile spreads across the dancer's face. She puts her face down to the tip slot and whispers.

DANCER: High School? You know you have to be 18 to even step into this joint.

CUSTOMER: I know, I know; I had to show the guy up front my I.D.

DANCER: OK, you better not be lying or anything. I've got a business license, you know. If the City came down and caught me doing shows for underage boys, they'd probably have me locked up for child molesting.

CUSTOMER: I turned 18 two weeks ago.

DANCER: Happy birthday, baby.

CUSTOMER: Thanks.

DANCER: Well it's your lucky day. I don't normally allow customers to record my moan for anything less than fifty, but since it's practically your birthday today, I'm gonna give you a deal.

CUSTOMER: Whatever you could do, miss, I'd really appreciate it.

DANCER: First of all, please don't call me miss. My name's Star.

CUSTOMER: Nice to meet you, Star. I'm Dan.

DANCER: Lovely to meet you, Dan. How 'bout I do the recording for ten dollars?

CUSTOMER: Does that mean I get to see you naked, too?

DANCER: Don't push your luck, kid. If you're lucky I might flash you a nipple.

The customer reaches into his coat pocket, pulls out a wad of crinkled bills and begins counting. He then reaches back into his pocket and pulls out a handful of change.

CUSTOMER: How 'bout nine dollars, three quarters, two dimes, and one nickel?

DANCER: Oh . . . all right. Your lucky you're cute.

The crinkled dollars come through the tip slot one by one, followed by the sound of clinking change.

CUSTOMER: You got it all?

DANCER: Yeah, yeah; I got it ALL. Thanks.

The customer fiddles with the recorder, trying to get it ready. He puts the microphone up to the tip slot.

CUSTOMER: I'm ready when you are.

The dancer gets down on all-fours and puts her mouth right up to the tip slot. She can see the customer's belt through the hole, along with the microphone. She moans loudly and lasciviously, giving the whole place a show. After the final crescendo, the customer turns off the recorder.

DANCER: Did you get it all?

CUSTOMER: Yeah, thanks. This is gonna be awesome.

DANCER: You have fifteen seconds left. You wanna see my breasts?

CUSTOMER: Sure.

The dancer pulls up the top of her bikini, revealing young, round breasts. She gives them a quick shake.

DANCER: Do you like them?

CUSTOMER: Yes, they're beautiful.

The shade starts to fall and the customer waves goodbye. The dancer yells through the slot as he leaves the booth.

DANCER: Maybe you can think about them when you're listening to that tape later.

There is no response.

The dancer leaves the stage and jumps back into her booth, thinking about the young man she just left and hoping that a customer will be along soon, inquiring about the toys in her window.



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