You know it’s going to be a long night when he gets that special…bulge…in his jumpsuit.

And again, when he says something along the lines of, “I should like some chili, my dear.” Or, “Potato chips, my dear; just a few.”

I mean, yes; I’m all over kink.  I worked up from the streets to a licensed brothel to running my own dungeon. For god’s sake, I know kink and I’m totally okay with it. Takes all kinds, right? And their money as good as the next, straighter, guy.

But a guy who gets off more on salty food than on me? Or my skills?

That’s just hurtful.

We never should have let those fucking Martians land.  ‘Political asylum’ my tits and ass.

Still.  A girl’s gotta make a living.