How I miss the old Cine ABC, with its hourly stripper. It didn’t matter how pretty or not she was, the sense of rising excitement and tension as the clock ticked up to the hour mark again was palpable, your mouth started to go dry, your heart started to beat faster, as you sat there masturbating to the images on the screen, you knew any minute now a real life girl was going to be stripping on stage for you, real life bosoms and real life buttocks and real life pussies, and you could carry on stroking your naked member in front of her, as she eyed your swollen cocks with either amusement or contempt; it is like that moment in Salome at the opera when you know you are approaching the moment of the Dance of the Seven Veils, or that moment in Last Tango in Paris where you know Marlon Brando is about to suddenly pick Maria Schneider up and rip her knickers off with an audible tear; it is that animal lust. Still it stands an empty husk, as is the old California peep show and kabins next to it. They have not still been replaced by anything. They are two dead parts of town next to each other; all the lust that used to exist in those places, the excitement, the racing heartbeats, the orgasms perpetually put off or released, the wankings, the suckings, the fuckings, the visual pleasure, the sexual pleasure. Now two dead empty shells.