"Y'know Blaine," his fat boss chomped onto his sandwich, spraying bits of tuna into the air as he spoke, "these people got a great idea." He waved a DVD in his hand, a spoof of the Porky's box art with a man standing by a hole in the wall, only instead of an eye peeking through it was a pair of lips. "Gloria's" read the title. Amazing that something so simple could manage to be a porno title, one of God knows how many Porky's spoofs were out there.<br/><br/>"We should do this," his boss continued to mutter with a mouth full of food. Did he ever swallow? Blaine saw him chew, saw him bite, and saw him speak with his mouth open, but he couldn't recall a moment where his boss actually swallowed. "Set up some gloryhole booths, charge men money to come in and get their rocks off. We'll make a killing, even in a town like this."<br/><br/>Blaine sighed, tapping his finger as he stared at the bright screen of his laptop. "Where would we get the girls to suck the guys off?" he asked in a monotone voice. His boss opened his mouth, let it hang there, full of half-chewed tuna, bread and lettuce, and then snapped his mouth shut. "Isn't it time for your shift to be over?" His boss would always ask such questions of him when he pointed out the obvious flaws in his ingenious plans.<br/><br/>"I got another fifteen minutes, and then Carl replaces me," Blaine responded. Those fifteen minutes would be too long. His boss waved his arm in the air, though.<br/><br/>"Fuck it," the fat man muttered. "Just go. This place is dead anyway." With that, Blaine sighed and hopped off the stool. He left the laptop there as it technically belonged to the store. They couldn't afford a modern register, which was pretty much a computer stocked with register software, but the group of them all contributed to getting a cheap laptop to keep entertained while at work. You could only watch or read so much porn in a day before it all started to seem the same.<br/><br/>Blaine left his job at the Pleasure Valley Adult Book and Video Store, a rather plain gray building with few windows and no defining features at all. Just a white sign with the name in red Times New Roman font up top. It was one of the shittiest jobs in the world. Right now Blaine lived in his own studio apartment, only able to afford living and a few of his minor hobbies. He hadn't been able to save up for school like before, and working in such a place got you feeling a bit randy. Hell, even now he was sporting half a woody in his jeans. But good luck trying to meet a woman in a place like that. Not in this town at least.<br/><br/>He really ought to have gone home or something, but he would only get depressed there and probably just masturbate to porn. Ironic that he never watched porn at his job, where there was plenty of it, but scoured the Internet for something half decent every night.<br/><br/>No, he needed to pretend not to be depressed for a while. So he stepped into the bar, walking past all the patrons, ignoring all the faces as best as he could. Last thing he'd need was an old class mate asking how he was doing. He sat at the end of the bar, as far away from everyone else as possible, and waved down Paul.<br/><br/>"Evan Williams," he said, dropping a couple twenties. "And leave the bottle."