"You want me to what?"

Lucy is what I call a 'strooker.' She dances at the titty bar, but is willing to come over and help me out with my problem for a little lucre.

"Just keep doing what you're doing - what you were doing, a minute ago - but give 'em a light slap."

"You want me to slap your balls. Slap? Your balls?"

"Yep."

"Okay, why? You've never seemed like you're into that sort of thing before."

"Well, it was something I heard one of the girls talking about..."

"The girls at the club?"

"Yeah. Marlena was talking about some regular that pays her to kick him in the nuts. Hard. Really hard."

"And you want me to do that to you?"

"Oh, hell no! That would hurt. But I tried it the other night, you know? I was butterin' the bishop and I gave myself a little slap in the sack, and..."

"Butterin' the Bishop? What the fuck kind of language is that?"

"Don't worry about it, Luce. I gave 'em a smack, and it didn't hurt. It just gave me a jolt. So I figured it might be a bigger jolt, or rather a better jolt, if I got it from you. So..."

"So?"

"So get back to work, so. Gobble my crank, Lucy. Wrap those fucking lips around my tool, and get the mouthful of jizz that I really, really want to give you. And in a couple of minutes, give me a little smack in the sack."

"You're fuckin' sick, you know?" she asked, as she bent down over my lap.

"I'm not sick, Luce. I'm a valued customer. Now let me get my hands on those titties, and you can deliver some of that customer service I love."

"Mmmmph..."