And He Waves With His Money

” he’s after the babes and he calls them honey
he thinks they’re cute and he waves with his money”
—Dirty Willy by the Lords of Acid
So it’s a warmish late winter day, the sun is flirting with breaking through the clouds, the temperature is nearing 50 a proverbial heat wave in comparison to the long dark winter we’ve had.  For once I wasn’t on a flying penis terrorizing some other city or sliding through the shadows of the clubs and restaurants in the name of greed, power, and excess that so very much defines my life.
On this particular day I was home and the Chesty Blonde had asked me to pick up our youngest from school between meetings and calls. So there I am in the parking lot of where I send my money but so rarely visit surrounded by the other parents.  I hid in the Blonde’s black car with the dark windows waiting for 30 minutes to pass until school let out.
The first disruption was when my favorite Brooklyn transplant whipped open the passenger door and unceremoniously flung her sexy little ass and huge tits in front seat next to me.  Sadly she was disappointed I wasn’t the Blonde and they couldn’t chat.  During our last encounter at a Nilla party she tried to get me to flinch in a game oh so you think you can talk dirty.  I loved watching her face as I went line by line right there with her building up into a torrid fury of pure utter graphic verbal filth.  Her husband hugged me afterwards and offered to pay me for lessons since he claimed she had never encountered anyone with less boundaries or a dirtier mouth than hers.  Ahh if lucky boy only really knew where my boundaries were I laughed to myself.   Telling him the key to being good at it is the fact that I was in willing to act out every single suggestion I made to her right then and there.   Since then she has given me a wide berth and a few minutes later she left almost as unannounced as she arrived.   I was as the saying goes I sad to see her go but I do love to watch her leave as she strutted in those always present dangerously high heels and curve hugging jeans.  Simply put and reverting back to my shallow catch phrase of my youth “I’d really like to hurt that.”
About 5 minutes before the assault plaid clothed kids who have just been given back a few minutes of their youth back began I made my way to the flag pole where Lilly told me to meet her.  Like her father Lil is a creature of habit when it comes to some things. Where to meet after school is one of apparently one of those things.
As I dragged my a little too chicly dressed ass into the light of day and across the parking lot  there was an obvious demographic split.  Sure there were the Mommy vans, the sedans, and the SUV set but more than cars and money there was an obvious split in the women’s social patterns almost exclusively based on body type.  There was the grandparents set and most of the men there were tradesmen except for the few business geeks and Doctor’s who slip away to pick up the kids.  The men for the most part were loners keeping their distance and feeling no need for social interaction beyond a passing nod.  The women were huddled in small packs but what was most striking was there were those who were glaring harshly at the other set and there were the groups that if this was Greek mythology would have been classified as Nymphs.
Those who were glaring had shorter hair on average, not long flowing locks, no sporty pony tails and frankly they were less fit in a physical sense that when added to an unapproachable disposition.  They silently exhibited a demeanor that made my balls crawl 6 inches up my ass explained way to much in 30 seconds of observation for me to ignore.  I always find social interactions so interesting and I do know it’s the whole birds of a feather thing but in truth as I walked like a wounded zebra through a pack of cougars they eyed me with the same discerning predators eye that I had as I approach them picking my line to the aforementioned Flag Pole.   It became clear why the flag pole was the place to be.  It’s where I spotted the Blonde’s friends and was greeted with a series of casual hello’s, several hugs, and a few kisses.    Apparently after being greeted by a few I was deemed socially acceptable by the rest of the pack and not some meandering worthless gigolo since others then began to approach and introduce themselves.  Frankly the Blonde is very friendly and a genuinely nice person, she can talk to anyone anywhere.  I’m far more reserved with new people so I wasn’t surprised to meet additional acquaintances of hers.
I watched the other groups watching us what can I say I’m a bit of a voyeur myself and as they talked and glared in our general direction I could only imagine what they were saying to each other.  I did though imagine it to be very judgmental and not all that nice just based on my experience of human nature.  What I noticed about the group I was with is they were not at all concerned with the others sort of like animals in the zoo who are used to being leered and gawked at.   They were living their lives making plans to have lunch, go to the gym, for the fundraiser a few weekends off, and arranging play dates and sleepovers with merry abandon. Perhaps it is a by product of always being pretty, of always being noticed, and of being confident enough about who they were that there was more to life than that now. It was that confidence that made them all the more alluring.
One little number stood uncomfortably close and tried to pry the details of our last Vegas get away out of me.  “Oh that was months ago and besides what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas but if you come with us next time I can show you first hand”   Brooklyn was grinning wickedly just a few feet away at the fact that another fly had flown into my web.  The little blond was playing with fire and had no clue how hot things could really get.  These women were just being who they are, sure some were fake, a few were catty but most were just lucky enough to seem to have it all together even if it was just on the outside.  They were cursed with being pretty and having taken care of themselves.  Some were sinners, I’m sure a few were saints, and most were just regular people.
Ahh there are two things I hope I never forget First the joy I use to feel when the last bell of the school day rang and I got to be a free person no longer part of others silly rules and roles.  Secondly that some times it is just great to be the best looking member of the opposite sex in a group of beautiful people even if I was the only male on that given occasion.
Lilly sprinted out amazed her somewhat distracted father could actually find and remember to stand by the giant flag pole.  As I bid the beautiful Nymphs good day and made by way back past the gawkers, rocking my dark jeans, black shoes, my custom slim fit dress shirt and Marc Jacobs jacket I guess in my own way jumping in to the blacked out black sedan I waved with my money.  Then again after all every there writes the same checks I do. Most just don’t have enough balls to the wave to the cougars and call them Honey!   Then again the size of my balls have never been called into question, the size of my brain?  Well that’s another matter.

One Reply to “And He Waves With His Money”

  1. “The women were huddled in small packs but what was most striking was there were those who were glaring harshly at the other set and there were the groups that if this was Greek mythology would have been classified as Nymphs.”
    And this is the reason women scare the shit out of me. When i umpire i know the dads are just angry and may want to go to fisticuffs, but the women would just as soon as kill me.
    Women are mean evil creatures and have never gotten over the fact we are in this hell and not in the garden.

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