“Okay, what’s going on? I’ve been waiting for you to spill for hours, letting you come to me, trying to be patient, but it isn’t working. So either you tell me or I won’t wax your butt hole anymore,” she blurts. A biker overhears and leans in. “I can fill that void.” I look at Jay, laughing, as he smacks the biker. “Down, dog,” he teases. “But I am also available to assist in that matter.”
