He fingers the leather wallet and let his hands caress the contours of the python skin. He opened it and removed the green entrails, careful not to make as much noise as possible. He counts the cash. One. Two. Three. Five hundred. He thinks of Rico and the torso he longed to touched. It's been weeks since and the stirring in his pants is more then he could bear.
He fingers the suede wallet-the red one from the fat lady.Opened it and once again counted the insides. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Seventy. He thinks of Rico whom he hadn't seen in weeks. He thinks of his member and the juices he never hesitated to swallow.
He fingers the purse. He couldn't remember where he got this piece, but the thickness of the embroidered case pushed these unnecessary thoughts away. He unlatched the lock and retrieved the goodies with anticipation. Papers. Receipts. Visa's. Passport. He was disappointed 'til he saw a silver ring. I wonder how much this costs. He then remembers Rico and the warm feeling when he inserts it, the way he plows his back, and the way he moans in between thrusts.
He fingers the last one. Crocodile. From an aged priest he bumped into this morning. He opened it and pouted his lips when he saw the crumpled hundred peso bill. He was frustrated. If he'd never reach ten thousand, he won't be able to take Rico home.