What's next?
Formalizing
Lamar sat in the control room for the strip club, Elizabeth knelt before him, shining his boots. Her thong was littered with cash today, her happiness was really paying dividends, literally. He patted his lap, and she obediently climbed up.
"You're the best ho I've ever had, you know," he started.
"Thanks, Lamar," Elizabeth said, blushing.
"But I want to make things more formal," he added. She looked up at him, quizzically.
"I want you to be my wife," he said. There was no ring, no proposal. He wasn't asking, and she knew as much.
"Of course," Elizabeth said gracefully. "...Do I still work at the club then?"
"You're still a ho," Lamar said, nodding. "You're a ho, I'm a pimp, nothing about that changes." She nodded. She accepted it, as she would have to.
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