Oh, oh! The Man didn forget. Come Friday afternoon, Wilson came up to my workstation, "Yall set for tomorrow Ol Buddy?"
"Are you sure, Tyler? You don have to ask me just because of what you said the other night…besides, Ive never played golf in my life before!"
Wilson punched me on the shoulder, "No sweat my man! I play like shit anyway. This is just for laughs." Then he handed me comprehensive instructions on how to get there. "Cain have the country boy getting lost!" he joked indian anal sex.
He met me from the train in a nice, but not brand new BMW indian anal sex Series 7 Coupe. The golf game was a crock, just like I expected. And the indian anal sex tight-ass money at his club made it obvious that my skin colour wasn exactly welcome. But Wilson defiantly gave them he finger by keeping us in the bar longer than necessary to make the point. This man was full of surprises! And so was his house. Tyler Wilson had apparently invested wisely, belying the impression he gives to the rest of the world that his vast earnings all disappear down the urinal. Set in extensive grounds, the building wasn at all grand or ostentatious, but the value was subtly obvious. And inside it was much the same, until he led me to his den and his home theatre and hi-fi set-up. Now, this was where some serious money had been spent!
But that came later. First, we made our way to the kitchen. It was a large room with a pine table able to seat about a dozen people set to one side. This was clearly where Wilsons family met and ate their informal meals. With startling speed and skill, he fixed a Chateaubriand large enough for the both of us and a green salad on the side. And, to wash the steak down, he liberated a bottle of 1990 Stags Leap Cabernet Sauvignon from his extensive and expensive looking cellar.
While we
indian anal sex ate and savoured the
indian anal sex wine
indian anal sex I asked Wilson about his family and wondered aloud why he only came down to such a lovely place at weekends.
"Time, Jon, time."
This was the first occasion that Wilson
indian anal sex had ever used my given name.
"The groundwork for all my best deals is done much earlier in the day than I can manage commuting from
indian anal sex here. Oh yeah
indian anal sex, I tried doing it from home with the laptop and all, and it didn work. I need the buzz from of all those screens in the room and the ozone smell from the computers and the shouting and yelling and the adrenaline that flows when one of you guys makes a hot deal.
"And in any case, Carla, my wife is a pretty sick woman. Shes full time in a sanatorium upstate…schizophrenia…runs in her family. We thought we could beat the odds but we lost. Our daughters both study performing arts at Julliard. They stay with me at the apartment
indian anal sex in New York during the week…thats if they don find elsewhere to stay. We all come down here for R and R on the weekends. By myself in this house it would be a graveyard."
"Oh, Im sorry…"
"Don give me that Hollywood sorry bullshit, Jon! You don really give a fuck and I wouldn expect you to either! Cmon, finish that steak and well go watch a movie. You won get Mary Poppins here, my man, we only serve up red meat!"
Red meat it was too. Wilson showed me his collection of porn DVDs and videos, he must own about a hundred of the things, and told me to select one for viewing. "Choose a DVD," he said, "That way we can go into ultra slo-mo and take out any close-ups you wanna get a good look at." In the meantime, he went off to get another Stags Leap from his cellar, a 1991
indian anal sex one this time for contrast with the first bottle.
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