The PIP Salon
A Haitian parlor serving soda and blowjobs
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The neon lights blink bright purple as cold rain drizzles down in the small little alley like little bee stings. THE PIP SALON. It beats being wet. As you open the door you're hit in the face with overly flowery perfume and thumping bass. The lights are dim purple, and mirrored walls make the space look both vacuously large and claustrophobically enclosed. The Haitian hostess sits at her post, filing her nails
Bonjou, byenveni. Ki soda ou vle?She asks, before looking up at you, realizing you probably don't speak much Haitian. She reaches for a shelf, pulling out an English language menu. Hello, welcome. Which soda do you want. Cola, melon, blueberry, it doesn't matter because now something else has caught your attention. A sound below the bass. A smell below the perfume. You make your pick. She walks you back into the parlor. Rows and rows of booths. Men sitting on cracked faux-leather booths sipping on soda while women sit on their knees in front of them, diligently sucking cock. The hostess brings you to your seat, five feet away from another man drinking a bright green soft drink Your drink comes soon She says, before walking off Shortly after, a very dark skinned black woman in a white and yellow dress walks over to you, a fake smile plastered on her lips as she hands you your order. Thank you very much She says, clearly struggling with english. She looks into your eyes as she slowly gets down onto her knees.