Gordon sat at the wheel of his expensive car. He gripped the leather wheel with disdain. Already from outside, Gordon could hear the blaring pop music. No doubt it would give him a headache. The only reason he was here in the first place was to meet a client. He'd given an invite, and Gordon foolishly accepted before looking into it. Turned out to be a playboy's public pissing away of money. And he invited everybody. All of the sense of exclusivity was a farce. Oh, it boiled Gordon's blood. A perfect night in his penthouse, alone with his alcohol and toys. That's what he could be doing. But due to this moronic agreement, Gordon was doomed to this fate. Cursing audibly to himself, the businessman stepped out of the driver's seat and made his way to the front door.
For a good minute or two, Gordon stood in front of the mahogany doors to the mansion. The music's bass was shaking his teeth uncomfortably.. Hesitation was a bad move, as a crowd of people joined the party and flooded into the house, carrying Gordon in their wake. A nice introduction to the situation. The angry man wrenched himself out of the sea of people and examined the situation. Oh, thank a higher power. The host was nice enough to put a bartender in most rooms. The dissatisfied man slumped himself into a bar stool and raised a finger to get the bartender's attention. Gordon spoke in a distinctly Slavic accent.
"I'll take a shot of tequila."The money for this was the host's to piss away, not his. Gordon would drink as he pleased. The sting of alcohol was always welcome in Gordon's throat. With a swift motion, the amber liquid was gone. The thought of his client passed Gordon's mind again. Where the hell was he? Getting his ass drunk and partying, probably. He was not conservative by any means. It didn't even matter at this point. Gordon would take his shots and leave. Call in one of his chauffeurs.