Waffle. With peanut butter.

If you say you'll put out for something, and then it is immediately placed in front of you buy a dude wearing a name tag that says Beefy Stew, do you have to do it?

I hope he doesn't read my blog.
Or my body language -- I may or may not have spread my legs and licked my lips when he set down the little peanut butter tubs.  Sometimes I just can't control myself.
Oh man, and when that thick, hot - WAFFLE - appeared... in all its beautiful golden crispiness... I knew I would have to at least tip Mr. Beefy well.  And hope that he didn't try anything with me, because I might have felt morally (perhaps not the right word) obligated to consent.