I sneered at the contents, flicking the collar of Little d**k’s jacket. I wasn’t playing games with this goon.
“All of it,” I emphasized. Kiddie c**k’s eyes went wide—he could tell what I meant—and my smile grew snide.
I kept talking.
“So… you want to tell me where your boss is… or do you want to lose what little c**k and brain you do have?”
The Lexington hotel in Manhattan was not the type of hotel I expected the senator to patronize.
It was quaint, sophisticated in an old-school fashioned kind of way, and it had none of the overblown pomp and circumstance I knew the senator was used to. None of the “How-big-can-I-make-people-think-my-d**k-is” showiness that I’d seen him become accustomed to.
Gaudiness was part of his cultural upbringing; vanity and nepotism was as much a part of hi
