Justin Holmes entered the store from the laneway. The shop took up space behind a Chinese butcher and backed onto the lane. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. The lane reeked of garbage and the refuse from the butcher shop. It hadn’t rained, but he’d had to leap over several puddles to avoid ruining his shoes.

The entrance led to a narrow passageway. A single bulb glowed from its metal cage. Justin pushed through the plastic flaps at the end of the passage and stepped into the shop. It smelled of fried food, a relief to his nostrils after the scents of blood and offal in the lane. House music played quietly from speakers mounted high above his head. At the counter stood the shopkeeper, a man of about thirty – built, tattooed, shiny metal sticking out from his face. He flicked Justin a momentary glance and looked away again, more interested in his dinner.

At the back of the room, a man in a cabbie’s uniform examined the range of dildos. Disgusting. Justin unbuttoned his suit coat and headed for his usual shelf – the DVDs.

Making a selection. This part was always exciting. Justin liked to take his time, picking each case up, examining the cover. But tonight the experience was tainted by a growing sense of disappointment – he’d seen many of these titles before, and the others looked tame. Justin realised he was growing bored with the usual fare. He wanted something harder.

Justin sensed the shopkeeper’s eyes on him. Shit. He preferred to keep his exchanges to a minimum. It was bad enough that he had to see the same guy behind the counter every week. He never made eye contact and he’d kidded himself that the guy didn’t remember him, never recognised him. But clearly that was untrue. Justin decided he would have to start going somewhere else. The question was, where? No other adult store had as wide a range as this one. No other store provided the convenience of proximity to work combined with privacy and the pure visual exhilaration of such a premium product. He didn’t trust the internet. He didn’t want to be tracked.

As he considered this, Justin realised that the shopkeeper had approached. He turned his head. The guy had a neat silver pin through the pink flesh connecting his upper lip to his gum. Ouch. Justin liked pain, but not that kind. What would possess a man to do that to himself?

Justin realised he was staring at the shopkeeper’s lip. The guy didn’t seem to mind. He just stood there, smiling. Justin put his hands in his pockets, eyeballed the guy.

‘What?’

The shopkeeper took a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket and offered it to him. Justin glanced at it, his hands still firmly stuck in his pockets.

‘In case you’d like a bigger selection,’ the shopkeeper said. ‘For special clients. We deliver, pick up, whatever. More dis­creet than online.’

Justin took a moment to digest the shopkeeper’s words. The last thing he wanted to become was a special client. He’d have to find another store, a place where he could again be anonymous. But the idea of a bigger selection appealed to him. The possibilities were tantalising.

At that moment, the cabbie approached. He carried a massive black penis-shaped contraption in his hands.

‘Is this the biggest you’ve got?’

The shopkeeper turned towards the cabbie. Justin seized his courage, grabbed the paper from the shopkeeper’s hand and pushed past him, shoving the cabbie roughly to one side. He stalked through the plastic flap, increasing his pace as he fled along the corridor and out into the alley.

He cursed as garbage water splashed around his ankles and seeped into his shoes.