Give her an "oil" massage (costs 60 guts)

Getting to rub your hands all over a sexy clown is more like a treat than work, you think, but the question is how to maximize your time. You think Licorice might be a little bored if you go at it in a clinical way-- she's probably testing some aspect of you right now, and you doubt it's your common sense. You think, instead, that she's probably asking to see how far your imagination as a clown assistant stretches. Overall, she seems like the type of person who likes to be entertained. She's looking for a break in the monotony of her routine.

With that in mind, you think you have just the thing! You ask her if she'd be interested in an oil massage.

"You're something else! I've never had one of those before. It's kind of a different thing than I asked for, but I guess I'm not complaining," she shrugs, then thinks to herself for a moment, before putting on a sultry grin. "Hmm... how do you want me, baby?"

There's a lot of different ways you'd like her, but for now, you have to pick just one! You tell Licorice to lie down on her stomach.

She complies, turning on the couch and crossing her arms beneath her head to prop it up, while making her lower body accessible to you. Her zip-up boots dangle slightly off the couch, kicking slowly up and down in a lazy, alternating pattern. Eager to get into the action, you put your hands right on the knot of her brown, chocolate-pattern apron, undoing it with antsy anticipation. and allowing the bands to fall to either side.

"You're like a kid on Christmas," she teases, grinning back at you over her shoulder. You don't think she's complaining.

Not stopping there, you put your fingers on the zipper barely hidden at the back of her dress, then tug it down quickly, moving it not just past the shoulder blades, but all the way down past her hips, until it's completely bisected, falling to either side like the apron. All she's left wearing now, besides various clownish adornments, is a sort of gold, sort of caramel-colored bra and panty set, strapless up top and T-style on the bottom, so that it barely covers her greatest asset. In fact, the thong is trapped in an unenviable battle, completely vanishing into the curvature of her very impressive ass-cheeks. The amount of supple, dark flesh you've revealed is making your mouth water-- you can't wait to get your hands on her! Without thinking, you place your hands right onto the mounds of her buttocks, tentatively giving them a squeeze. The feeling is heavenly, like your hands could get lost just in the size of her ass... the flesh jiggles at your touch, mesmerizing you.

"Hey tiger-- I appreciate your mojo, but where's that oil you were talking about?" she chuckles, raising an eyebrow as she watches you enjoying yourself out of the corner of her eye.

You gulp and clench your teeth, realizing what you ought to have to start: you don't have any damn massage oil. You were so caught up in your fantasy, you forgot that little hindrance.

"Hold up... I got something we can use," Licorice rescues you, raising her thumb to indicate you ought to look in the shelf above you.

They really keep massage oil in here? That's weird, but also perfect! Eagerly, you open up the cabinet she pointed to. Your elated expression turns to one of confusion as you realize: there's nothing in here but ice-cream toppings.

"What's wrong? Worried about getting your hands messy?" she asks you, biting her lips. "Go on, get on with that kinky shit."

You've never had this particular fantasy before, but you're willing to give it a try. In a haste, you grab a bottle of chocolate sauce in one hand and a can of whipped cream in the other, shaking both furiously, before squirting both together over the exposed surface of her ass, like you're decorating a chocolate sundae. When you're done, having turned her butt into an appetizing mound of ice-cream, you feel yourself actually salivating at the sight. You raise your hands, feeling like you're about to kick over a sand-castle if you plunge them in there. Is it really okay to ruin this masterpiece you've just created?

"Come on, sugar... You can put that mouth to work instead..." Licorice coos, her eyes sparkling as she begins to tantalizingly wiggle her hips back and forth. To encourage you, she fishes out a stack of bills from her discarded dress and slaps it down onto the table. Is she paying you for work? "Get your face in there... You know you want to."

This doesn't count as a massage any more, or even work for that matter, does it? This is just snack time!

You lower your face with the intention of motor-boating it in a pie of ass, chocolate, and cream, before the door suddenly slams open, revealing the furious face of Licorice's co-manager, Bubblegum. Uh oh. You've been caught in what some might call a compromising position.

((Lost 60 guts))

((Gained 30 wealth))