"It's just not a good time, right now Dutch." Lymie tried to smile professionally at Dutch Diesel, her roommate and occasional you-know-what.
Lymie looked very professional, though her boobs did push out the angora sweater to flattering proportions.
Lymie was Head of Public Administration here in Buttermilk Falls, and had her own secretary, even now that administration was scarce.
Lymie was quite full of herself. But she didn't really need her blue-collar tenant bothering her just now.
He really was supposed to be looking for job.
Still, her eyes roamed his swarthy, tattooed arms.
Just the other night Dutch had thrashed Lymie's pear shaped breasts with a broken pool cue, and she'd almost cum (but that damn labial piercing!) watching his biceps sweat...the cobra dancing as he meted out the brutal correction!
Dutch had some intense ink, and he always displayed them in wife-beater t-shirts, or sleeveless denim vests with biker patches on the back.
"Lymie. I found a pack of cigarettes in your bedroom, dear." Dutch smiled and cocked his head.
Lymie, a beneficiary of great dentists and orthodontists since early childhood, was initially horrified and somewhat repelled by Dutch's misshapen yellow snags.
And the fact that there were more than a few gaps in his smile.
But now, in her fear, she just wanted him to kiss her.
"I-I know, Dutch." she faltered. "I am trying to quit smoking for good--"
"And especially smoking in the house, right?"
Dutch smiled again, and idly spat a stream of chewing tobacco (different standards for different tenants, eh?) towards the wastebasket.
"Y-yes. But I've been under a lot of stress."
"We just know that's an excuse. I recall when you gained a pound last week, I was able to get you exercising again, wasn't I?
The frat paddle on your butt as you ran on the treadmill?"
Lymie flushed and hoped that her secretary, a gum-popping contemptuous mall rat, couldn't hear this.
Dutch had mesmerized Lymie's previous assistant, and Lymie had found it difficult to work with Cheryl after she'd been forced to service Cheryl's vagina in Dutch's bed.
Apparently she hadn't licked enough semen out of Cheryl's twat, because the silly bitch had gotten pregnant and left town, thank goodness!
But oh, the hilarity in her typist's eye during those painful weeks before Cheryl departed.
Had she told the girls in the powder room that she'd spanked the boss's ass, whipping the administrator until she'd wept?
Lymie didn't want that to happen again. But clearly she was in trouble here.
Sure, it was arousing when she was punished by Dutch back home.
The humiliation of the whole thing when she'd been briefly exposed at the office had been grist for her wank bank.
But Lymie had a career here. She had to stand firm. She had to explain to Dutch that he wasn't the be-all, end-all of Lymie's complicated life.
Lymie's Inner Child therapist had tried to break Lymie of her Dutch addiction.
"Lymie, you are a Smith College grad for God's sakes! It's bad enough that you stayed in this loser burg. Buttermilk Falls is such a shithole, and Dutch Diesel is its most grotesque citizen!"
Dr. Threadgill had been a no-nonsense Tough Love counselor, or so they'd thought.
But he wasn't that, or even a committed heterosexual, apparently.
Dutch had come in for a group session, he'd ended up whipping the doc's bare ass and making Threadgill suck him off as Lymie wept in the corner.
