"Good choice," he said, and opened the bottle and poured three fingers into old fashioned glasses for each of us. "I don't actually drink much hard liquor but I've had this before and it's good stuff." We clinked glasses and sipped. The burn of good strong Bourbon and the sweet taste of caramel filled my palate and warmed my throat.
"I could have gone for a rare Bordeaux," I said. "You can't have that many bottles stashed in two Danbys."
His eyes twinkled. "I have a wine cellar," he said.
"Of course you do," I said. "I give."
We walked onto the patio and met the rest of Thomas' harem. His mother stood to greet us. She had two great things going for her: she was perhaps the most classically beautiful woman I'd ever met in person, and she didn't look anywhere near old enough to be Thomas
