>>98660343Gaspar stepped out of the rain and into his office, a crummy little joint above the deli on 5th street. The kind of place where only the desperate and the downtrodden came to seek help. And that's exactly what he got, in the form of a looker like Grimmi. She walked in, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, eyes flashing with a mixture of fear and, discomfort? She was a dame, all right, with a face that could stop a clock and a body that could launch a thousand ships. But there was something about her that didn't add up, something that made him think that she was trouble with a capital T.
"Gaspar, I need your help," she said, her voice husky and with a hint of a tremble. "I've got a problem, and I don't know who else to turn to."
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "What kind of problem, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.
Grimmi smiled, a small, enigmatic smile. "I've got a bit of a reputation, Gaspar. A reputation for being...unusual. And I think someone is trying to use it against me."
Gasper raised an eyebrow, my mind racing with possibilities. "Unusual?" he repeated, "What do you mean?"
Grimmi leaned forward, her eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. "I like to
shit on men's chests, Gaspar. I like the power, the control, the feeling of release. And I think someone is trying to blackmail me over it."
He hid his jolt of surprise, and kept cool. He'd seen it all before, or so he thought. "And you want me to find out who is behind it?" he asked, his voice neutral.
Grimmi nodded, her smile growing wider. "Yes, Gaspar. I need you to find out who is trying to ruin my reputation, and I want you to stop them."
He agreed to take the case. But as he did, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was in over his head. Grimmi was a dame with an agenda, a secret that could get her killed. And he was the only one who could protect her. As they talked, Gaspr couldn't help but notice the way Grimmi seemed to be enjoying herself. She was a woman who loved to be in control, and she was getting a kick out of watching him squirm. And then, just as he thought things couldn't get any weirder, she stood up and walked over to his side of the desk.
"Gaspar, I think it's time we got down to business," she said, her voice husky and confident. "I think it's time you saw what I'm really like."
And with that, she dropped her skirt and squatted down on the desk, her eyes glinting with inscrutable look. He felt a pit of fear and anticipation in his stomach, but he couldn't look away. Grimmi was a woman who knew what she wanted, and she was going to get it, no matter what.
He watched, frozen in shock, Grimmi began to
push out the thickest turd he'd ever seen onto his desk, her dark eyes never leaving his. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated depravity, and Gasper knew that he was in for a long, wild ride. But as he looked into Grimmi's eyes, he felt something that gave him pause. It was a spark of desire, a flame that seemed to flicker to life in the midst of her vile act. He knew that he was hooked, hooked on the dame with a love of
shitting on men. 
