Weeks of that phat ass donkey booty wobbling past my door. Pulled you into the supply cabinet after hours. Slacks down, belt hanging, pale heavy cheeks spilling over the leather. Front-row viewing. You spread them yourself. Fingers in. Hole out. Clapping that fat ass between the invoice boxes while I sat in the cheap chair and watched my favorite employee turn a stockroom into a private show. Don’t pull them up. Review’s not over.