Playing With Hot Tits Of Desi Village Girl

Lindy and I followed Helena into the old Otis elevator that complained arthritically during its slow ascent to the second highest floor. Only four doors for four suites in the elegant hallway. We heard the hum of voices through the thick door which Helena opened with a brass key. Conversations punctuated by laughter became louder inside. And within the mesh of voices several stringed instruments sounding suspiciously like a requiem mass thrummed from speakers, a dark theme for a lively party. The late Victorian/early Modernist mash up that kept the older style less cluttered while softening the formalist tendency of Modernism found in the lobby repeated in the common room of the suite created a welcoming atmosphere. Any decadence came exclusively from the humans occupying it.Every chair and sofa and even the Persian rug covered floor held exquisite women whose incredible bodies hid only in thin robes or peignoirs or not at all. Mostly older men, some handsome and well put together. ”Jim came through the gate.“G’day mate,” she said.“Day-ee.”“I’m off.” She rolled away.Jim watched her go. He sighed.“I hate to see her leave ... but I love to watch her go.”I grinned, “That extra wiggle? It’s just for you.”“So ... what car did you buy her?” Jim asked.“Which one?”“More than one?”I ticked off my fingers. “Three cars: full on restored rally 1973 Ford Escort ... with four wheel drive added. Dirt track Holden super mod, Formula Ford circuit car ... one dually Ford pickup ... gooseneck enclosed two car trailer ... tools ... rollaway tool box ... new tires every fucking week ... rally car usually uses three sets.” I ran out of fingers but kept going. “Firesuit, three helmets, shoes, gloves ... all that junk. Rented three bays in the old Gold Bug warehouse. Security for the shop.“Speaking of tools ... remember Dean Wilson?”“Yeah ... airplane mechanic ... he must be a hundred years old.”“He’s dead ... Abby bought his entire shop of aircraft quality Snap-On and Blue Point tools.
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