A cable guy comes to fix her Wi-Fi. She opens the door in a silk robe with nothing underneath.
“Connection’s been spotty,” she purrs. “Think you can make it… hardwired?”
Five minutes later, he’s on his back, tangled in cords, while she’s buffering in all the best ways—fast, wet, and streaming nonstop.
After the fourth round, she hands him a coupon for $5 off his next visit.
He raises an eyebrow. “Is that all I get?”
She smirks. “Well, the service was… oral tier.”
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