Indian Bartender.

The way that it has always been is that we would meet at my house, play poker until I passed out and then my 'friends' would pick me up, lay me on the couch, finish out the hand and leave.On poker nights Hillary, saying that she couldn't stand being around a bunch of loud-mouthed men, would leave and go shopping or take in a movie. Up until a week ago I had no reason to doubt that what she said she did is what she actually did, but now I wondered if she did any of those things. To me it stood to reason that if she got such a kick getting fucked while talking to me on the phone she would get an even bigger kick out of fucking them while I was right there in the room.Thursday, while Hillary was at her standing afternoon hair appointment I went home and set up two remote controlled video cameras and put the remote controls under the seat cushions on the couch and then headed on back to work.Friday at seven the guys began arriving and by seven-fifteen we were all sitting at the table. I bounce offas if I'd tried to shove open the wall itself. I shake my head inconfusion. I'd had no trouble with the other doors. I must be feelingthe effects. I have less than two hours and I've only been through fivehouses.I quickly tear apart the cabinets in the kitchen. Checking the fridge,I grab the bottle of juice and guzzle the full quart. I feel hot andfeverish. My chest still itches and aches and now it feels strangelyheavy. My arms don't want to obey when I tell them to lift things orpull other things open. Just opening the bottle was a struggle.I do a quick search of all the rooms. I'm sure the vial is in thekitchen, but it never hurts to check. Two small bedrooms for thefamily's children, a bathroom...nothing, as expected. I push open themaster bedroom door, and there it is, sitting on the dresser. I rush toit, hope welling in my heart.It's empty, the thumb-tab depressed to its base.It took a year for our best scientists to develop the retrovirus, andanother.
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