A black blouse with long sleeves, buttoned to the neck, hides a lot of my tan. Add my new black Stetson and I’m good to go. Maybe.Wexler was drinkin... in The Pub Station, a cavernous bar with live music. He’d been in there since 5, drove straight from work. I assumed — hoped! — he’d be a little oiled by now.From the street, The Pub looks like what it used to be — a Greyhound bus station. It’s downtown, easy walking distance from my digs. I pushed inside the joint — crowded and noisy.I’d. I noticed his walk stiffen slightly, along with his legs overstretching, though he quickly went back to his normal walk. "Well, I just want you to know… if there's anything I can do, just let me know. And I do mean anything." He said, with an emphasis on anything. 'He couldn't also mean… sexual things as well… could he?' I thought to myself with my face burning slightly. "By anything, do you really mean anything?" I carefully asked him. I could feel my dick start to harden and press against my. More

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