Unlabeled door at the back of the shop

Ignoring the watchful eyes of the clerk at the front checkout counter, you dodge through rows of dildos, pornographic DVDs, and pocket pussies in an effort to peruse as much as you can while staying out of eyeshot of anyone else in the store.

It's embarrassing, and you can't bring yourself to meet the eyes of the leering men peeking over shelves and racks of sex toys, your face burns and flushes red, but something else begins to burn too.

Putting one hand over your gently pulsing crotch and realizing the your brand new pussy is what's reacting to everything you're surrounded by, you grab the handle of a grey unlabeled door next to you that you assume is an exit and move forward.

But it's not an exit. It's dark, and almost reminds you of one of the corn mazes your parents used to take you to. A labyrinth of restroom stall doors running the length of the building in some sort of hidden maze, all you can make out are the dim blinking of video screens from behind certain doors and the grimy, musky smell of sex, semen, and sweat. It almost reminds you of the smell of your own room when you were going through puberty.

As a man, the smell makes you gag, but as a woman it does nothing to ease the slow burn that you feel down below.

Do you run for the exit sign at the back of the building or dodge into a booth to think about your next move?