The 'truth'

You are on a holy mission commanded by the Lord God, you must know the suffering of man and receive his blessing upon your flesh. And whilst this man is talking you are not working towards doing either so you must tell him something so you can continue Gods work. You smile and calmly but firmly state.

"I don't know when I'll next be back. I don't come here on a rota. But if I feel the; compulsion then I'll be back. When I do it would be good to see you again."

"OK. Yeah. When you put it like that it makes sense. I must be pussy drunk. You really are fantastic but if I continue holding shit up I'll get lynched. See you soon; what should I call you? I mean what would you be known as, to the shop and other patrons? You know so if I come in I can ask if you're here?"

He sounds deflated but inquisitive. You wonder what he's talking about as the verbal diarrhoea spills from his mouth, but you catch on that there must be girls that come to these places regularly enough to get reputations and then the guys talk about them. The shop knows them and if they come in then following patrons can ask who, if anyone, is 'working' today. What a hive of sin. What poor deluded women and lustful men. But you need a name but nothing is coming to mind but your own so you shrug and respond.

"Sister. You can call me Sister."

"Sweet, working on the popular **** themes. Don't be surprised if some of guys ask you to call them Daddy then. Anyway, gotta go."

The thought of such depraved **** sickens you, so much so that sink back on to the chair and take a second considering brothers with sisters, fathers with daughters and mothers with sons and their apparent popularity. The second is short though as another cock is pushed through the hole.