Missouri’s tax code contained tricky language although Jimmy noted with a smile that Illinois offered tantalizing loopholes for franchises.

After spending hours poring over microfilm and other reference material at the Millville Public Library, the Sitting Bull Bar & Grill executive assistant learned more than he’d ever wanted to know about out-of-state ordinances and statutes. He took copious notes before driving to his boss’s condo to report his findings.

Mike answered Jimmy’s knock wearing only gym shorts, putting his muscles on full display. “Hey, Pee-Wee, what’cha got?” He sauntered to the couch and plopped down. “Are Missouri and Illinois going to work?”

Jimmy stood before the reclining bar owner and read his report aloud. When the wimp was finished, Mike scrunched up his eyebrows.

“So, Missouri’s code is that confusing? Shit, I was hoping we could put a Sitting Bull in the St. Louis market.”

“Well, yeah, Missouri is confusing but not impossible to figure out.” Jimmy shrugged. “You just have to take a couple extra steps when you get started, and then stay on top of things, because there are all kinds of changes you have to do, depending on how much profit you make each year.”

“Well, that’s where you’ll come in, Pee-Wee.” Mike grinned. “You’re doing a great job — and not just with the bar stuff, either.”

“Uh, t-thanks.”

“Seriously, Nikki says she’s never been happier in her life.”

“Um … me neither, to be honest.”

Mike nodded. “Yeah, it’s a strange little thing we’ve got going here. I never thought I’d end up in a relationship like this, but life’s funny sometimes, huh?”

“Um, er, yeah.” Jimmy adjusted his pants so Mike wouldn’t see his growing boner.

The alpha male didn’t notice — he was too busy frowning at his messy condo. “Listen, Pee-Wee, why don’t you spruce this place up a little before everyone gets here? Grab me a brewski first.”

“Um, okay.”

Mike smirked at his subordinate. “Is that how you’re supposed to address me in private, Pee-Wee?”

“Um, sorry — yes, sir!”

The eager little sub hopped into action, serving Mike’s beer before flitting around the condo cleaning while his master chilled on the couch watching TV.

Jimmy was on his knees scrubbing the toilet when Nicole, Marlene and Mike’s mother Dottie filed through the front doorway lugging armfuls of bags from their shopping excursion.

Marlene spotted Jimmy and scoffed. “Looks like you’ve found your true calling, Numb-Nuts — cleaning toilets. Out of the way, I need to get in here.”

Nicole snapped her fingers. “See what everyone wants to drink and then take the tags off everything. I want ice water.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Jimmy replied as was now required whenever they were alone or ‘among family,’ per Red’s suggestion that Nicole and Mike solidify their dominance over their slave by requiring such formalities. The war hero and his lady were eager to please their rich benefactor so they immediately implemented the rule.

After serving drinks, Jimmy sat on the floor at his wife’s feet going through each bag and removing tags from garments while his superiors relaxed and chatted. When Jimmy pulled a red negligée from one of the bags, Nicole snatched it from him and held to her bosom before turning to her boyfriend flashing a smoldering pout.

“What do you think, baby?” She batted her eyelashes.

Mike whistled. “Damn, girl!” He scooted closer on the couch and kissed his lady.

Marlene chuckled. “Get a room, you two.”

Dottie lit a cigarette. “Pee-Wee, I still don’t understand what you’re getting out of all this. I mean, ain’t it kind of embarrassing? Your wife cheats on you, and instead of trying to stop it, you follow them around like a little puppy-dog?”

“Nah, he likes it.” Nicole waved her hand. “I don’t really understand it, either, but like Red always says, some people are just meant to be … you know —”

“—little bitches,” Mike finished, prompting laughter all ‘round.

Dottie took a drag from her Kent. “Well, I don’t get it. Where I come from, men fight for their women.”

“Fight?!” Marlene jeered. “This little twerp couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag. Look at your son — he’d kick the shit out of him.”

“Be nice, Ma.” Nicole chortled.

“Nah, I’d never hurt Pee-Wee.” Mike leaned down and ruffled Jimmy’s hair. “We’re best friends, ain’t we?”

“Um … yes, sir.”

Nicole fired up a Virginia Slim. “Tell Dottie what you get out of this, Pee-Wee.”

Jimmy squirmed. “I … I dunno.”

“Well, I know.” Marlene sniffed. “You’re a little Nancy Boy who gets off being treated like a bitch.”

Dottie blew smoke toward her son’s supplicant. “So, are you one of those guys who likes being tied up and whipped?”

“Um, no, Ma’am.” Jimmy cracked his knuckles. “I-I don’t know. It’s just … well, I love Nicole, and I know Mike loves her, too, and this way she doesn’t have to choose—”

Nicole sneered. “Bullshit, you’re not just doing this for me — you love this! Tell Dottie how you came in your pants without touching yourself when you were holding the antenna.”

Dottie tittered. “Marlene told me about that. So, you actually like being treated mean? Instead of getting turned on by fucking a woman like most guys do, you get turned on when people are mean to you?”

“Um, yes, Ma’am, I guess so.”

“Well, then, shit, come on over here.” Dottie held up her cigarette, which had a long ash. “Cup your hands.”

“The hell with that, Dottie — put it in his mouth,” Marlene suggested.

Dottie smirked at her old friend. “Seriously?”

“Sure, he’ll love it — won’t you, Numb-Nuts?”

“Um, yes, Ma’am.”

“Then get your skinny little ass over here,” Dottie said. “Bend down and open your mouth.”

Jimmy complied and Dottie tapped the ash down the little wimp’s gullet. Overcome by the power rush, the old lady spat down Jimmy’s throat, causing her companions to bust out laughing.

“Damn, Dottie, you always were a crazy one,” Marlene snickered. “Imagine telling the girls at Bingo about this stuff.”

“What can I say? It’s fun being mean to the little bastard — since he likes it anyway.” Without warning, Dottie slapped the shit out of Jimmy, who staggered backward holding his cheek.

An uncomfortable silence hung over the room for a few seconds, as though physically assaulting the wimp had perhaps crossed the line — until Marlene hooted and pointed at Jimmy’s crotch.

“Look — the Nancy boy’s got a little bumpy!”

Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered as a wet spot formed on the front of his pants.