Beefy Buns

"Do you love me?" she asked.

"I'm fond of you."

"You don't, then?"

"I care about you, intensely and immensely."

"That's enough, I suppose."

"May I ask you a question?"

"Shoot. Oops. I guess you already shot your load, come to think of it."

I smiled at her play on words. Then, I was serious again as I asked my question. "Earlier today, in the meat locker, when you showed me your package, were you gathering ammunition for a sexual harassment lawsuit; were you merely turning the tables on me, playing the predator instead of the prey, to give me a taste of my own medicine; or were you setting me up as someone who'd harassed you sexually so you could harass me the same way, but with impunity?"

The tip of her moist, pink tongue protruded between her lips as she considered my question, a little-girl look that I found extremely sexy. After a while, she said, "Honestly, I don't know. I had mixed feelings about you then, and I had mixed motives."

"What do you mean?"

She gave me an arch look, as she explained, "A lot of times, you're just an asshole, but you're actually kind of cute when you're not being revolting."

I smiled. "I'll never be an asshole again--not to you, at least--if you'll move in with me," I promised.

She chuckled, opening her arms to the meagerly furnished room. "So you can take me away from all this?"

I wasn't smiling when I answered her question. I was serious. I was earnest. "Yes."

She considered my proposal. "With one condition," she said.

"Name it."

"You don't make me climb any more ladders or clean any more toilets and urinals at work."

"I'll do better than that. You can quit working altogether if you want. I'll take care of you, Mona."

She smiled, caressing my semen-smeared cock. "You really are kind of cute when you're not being revolting."

I gave her genitals a friendly squeeze. "You, too."

We kissed. We caressed. We made love.

The next day, Mona and I became not only lovers, but roommates as well, and she said goodbye to Beefy Buns forever.