The Last Porn Theater by rimaday
Discover the gripping tale in 'The Last Porn Theater,' a captivating gay erotic sex story that explores desire, connection, and the fading allure of intimate spaces. Join the journey as secrets unfold in an unforgettable setting. Perfect for fans of LGBTQ+ fiction and erotic storytelling!<br/> As I wait in my hotel room for the evening’s instructions, I cannot help but replay that fateful night twenty years ago which began my secret life. I was a 29-year-old entrepreneur who had dropped out of college and teamed up with a friend to start a software company. Back then, we thought we could be the next Bill Gates; although inventory management and planning software has a much narrower market, we had visions of billionaire status by the age of forty.
In hindsight, we did pretty good, but nowhere near our dreams. We had an offer two years ago to buy the company for 152.5 million dollars. It was only fifteen percent of our dream and nearly a decade late. The road was a lot rougher and longer than we imagined. Nonetheless, we have made a good living and provided for the future of our kids.
My name is Ken Pritchard, and my partner is Kyle Martin. We were college roommates majoring in computer science, when we were both selected for a summer internship with a large automotive parts distributor. It was the summer after our sophomore year, and the job was located in Iowa, where we went to school. They needed help with inventory management, and it all worked out too perfectly.
They were local and we were able to stay in our dorm room for the summer and get paid decent money doing what we both loved, programming. We quickly realized that the tools they were using to manage inventory, forecasting, and customer billing were all disconnected and manually dependent.
We worked like dogs that summer. When we weren’t on site, we were programming from the dorm at night. By the end of the summer, we had successfully written software programs to link inventory and forecasting and greatly reduced the complexity of billing.
We were quickly invited back for the following summer where we finished tying it all together, dramatically improving their productivity. Kyle’s dad was a corporate attorney and helped us to protect the software we developed. With patents in hand, we were able to reach out to another distributor in the appliance industry and got our first sale for our software package.
With that, we took the plunge and did not return for our senior year. I was an Iowa boy born and bred. Kyle was a California boy and got us a sweet deal for a single office at his father’s law firm in Fresno. From there, it was several years of growing pains and learning just how little we actually knew about doing business.
After a few years, we were still living in his father’s basement and struggling to increase our footprint. Kyle was a stronger programmer and I was stronger on the social side, so I became sales, marketing, and customer service, while he focused on product development and improvement. I became CEO and he was COO for our two-man operation with help from several part time interns from the local university.
Our big break came twenty years ago, when our first customer was purchased by the biggest automotive distributor in North America. They were based in Chicago, Illinois, and through persistence and results demonstrated at our first customer, we were able to provide software for the parent company. That was the launch pad that took us, literally, out of the basement to our own apartments and eventually an entire floor of our headquarters building.
It was during that first visit to Chicago that another monumental life change occurred. I had prepped with Kyle for days before pitching the software to the parent company. The presentation was polished, memorized, and ready for prime time.
I checked into a large hotel-chain location, that was the cheapest room I could find at a reasonably acceptable brand. When I arrived, I could see from the neighborhood why the price was so good, but the reality of the situation was that we had very little cash flow, and it was a stretch to pay for the room as it was.
The hotel itself was actually quite nice. It had been recently updated and was a classic design. Eighty years ago, it was probably one of the nicest in town.
I had already reviewed the presentation a hundred times and just wanted to get a good night’s sleep, so I checked in about six PM, and was pleased to see that there was a manager’s reception with free food and beer. It ended at seven, so I went to the room, dropped my bags and went back down.
As I drank my first beer, I texted my fiancé, Lexie, and let her know I was in.
Me: At the hotel. Free food and happy hour.
Lexie: Awesome! So proud of you. You’re gonna do great!
Me: Thanks for believing in me. Love you!
Lexie: Always! Call me later?
Me: Yes! Miss you!
Lexie: Me too.
There was a young Black guy, in a shirt and tie manning the alcohol, who kept me well supplied. Cocktail weenies and nachos were the food of choice, which worked for me. The bartender’s name was Calvin, and he said he’d worked there for four years, as he studied hotel-motel management.
We hit it off well, sharing our stories. He grew up in the mean streets of Garfield Park right on the border of west and east GFP. He was going to school at Colleges of Chicago part time and working as assistant manager full time.
I grew up in Des Moines, Iowa and was making my first trip to The Windy City. We were both engaged and trying to build a career. He was a few steps ahead, as he was only twenty-four, but I knew that after this visit, I would be leapfrogging him big time.
By landing the corporate account, we would have the first major client and income that could fund hiring more programmers and developers to drive us into the black and build our product offering. As we talked, I discovered that his cousin was the receptionist at the headquarters for our client. She would be checking me in in the morning.
He got her on the phone, and she asked who I would be presenting to. When I told her the names, she gave me pointers on what they were like, and some personal details to help me connect with them. I drank two more beers while talking to her.
“Holy shit Calvin, that was fucking awesome. I owe you big time. If I land this account, I will stay here every time, I promise.”
Four beers in, I took a piss and stepped outside for a cigarette. The Windy City was still and hot that evening. Across the street was a neon sign for an adult theatre. It was an old-school, dilapidated movie theater, with a giant arrow outlined in neon and pointing to the entrance. The sign said, ‘Anal Nurses II’ with showtimes at 7:30, 9:30 and 11:30.
I had a quick smoke and looked at the sign. I had a thing for anal, and unfortunately, Lexie could not get into it. I give her credit: she tried on three different occasions, sober, drunk, and both drunk and high. She said she could never get beyond the feeling that a shit was going back inside her.
That description kind of did it in for me asking again. But damn there was something about anal porn, when the woman at least pretended to enjoy it, that got my dick a little-extra hard.
I went back inside, and Calvin handed me drink number five. They were going down way too smooth, and back then, I had a good tolerance for beers. With a glass of water and an aspirin at bedtime, I hardly ever got a hangover.