Poet's Retirement Blues

"Yeah."

"Dr. Nick?"

"Yeah."

"My tush is so sore I had to sleep on my stomach last night. Do you have any more of that lotion?"

"Yeah."

"Could I make an appointment for, say.... A couple of hours from now?"

"Let me look. Sure. I'm free."

"Oh! Good. I also wanted to talk to you about maybe some shading instead of just a solid color."

"Sure. No problem with that. See you when you get here."

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Linda walked straight to the ottoman, shedding clothes as she went. As I smoothed lotion onto the cheeks of her ass, I explained to her that I didn't really give her a tattoo; that it was going to fade in a week or so.

"Do you mean to tell me that I went through all that and won't have anything to show for it?"

"Yeah."

"How soon can you give me a real one? And more important, how soon can you make my other hole red?"

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It's beginning to look like my 'fucking women' philosophy needs a revamp. I'll have to get back with you, I'm kind of busy myself right now.