marty needed money. he desperately needed money to get to japan and play in the table tennis world championship. he somehow managed to get you to consider paying for everything. you are the richest person in america, you could buy him seven times and still have the most money he’s ever heard of.

he’s ended up at one of your parties, sat next to you while you and the other rich businessmen of new york chat and nurse whiskeys. you look stunning, and marty is incredibly nervous being this close to you.

milton rockwell, a businessman who is not so fond of marty, is talking to you currently, his wife, kay, sat on his lap. all of the men in this room have pretty wives sat on their laps, kissing their necks or letting them touch them out in the open. you don’t have a partner, he wonders why. he wonders if he has a shot.