In Times Square Comes Alive, a perky white couple who perform in the love act booth talk about how they keep a variety in their act, and then show the camera a robust performance.
My own experience in 1984 was on the other side of the moon. My five women friends and I each paid twenty dollars at Show World to walk into a small, dark room with an eight –foot round platform in the center surrounded by a few folding chairs...
[The "sex act" commences...]
A moment later the male lover withdrew, completely soft again, and whoever was playing the R&B oldies abruptly dragged the needle off— sccrratch! End of show, folks. I guess the song is only as long as he can hold it up. We applauded in a daze and folded our chairs.
Outside, we found the star smoking a cigarette at the cash register he also operates.
“Hey, you have a nice body, why don’t you do something with it?” one of my outspoken friends asked him. “How can your erection be so important when the rest of your body is ignored? Your partner strips and shows the pleasure of her body, but you can’t even be bothered to get your trousers untangled from your ankles!”
He was a little taken aback by five lesbians taking him to task for a lack of masculine sensuality. “Hey, I do this seven times a day, you know. The earlier show is better.”
I think that what Times Square Comes Alive got was the very early show– it was so early that no one has ever seen it except for the camera.
Read the whole story in "Susie Bright's Erotic Screen, Volume 1"