The Drain Commissioner

Since it's cold now, I had to dig out my coat. I stuck my hand in the pocket, and found a business card that pointed out that I haven't worn that coat since a business trip to Michigan last January. That particular trip was one of my more interesting business trips ever, and decided to put it all down on virtual paper.

I got to town the evening before I was to visit the customer, and decided to go to a local Italian restaurant that seemed to have gotten good reviews. When I got there, I found that this was an incredibly busy place, and seeing as how I was a table for one (and didn't want to wait for food), I decided to sit at the bar and eat there. As I'm eating my dinner, a 60-ish fellow next to me strikes up a conversation. Seems he was the Drain Commissioner of the city, and I now know all about what this elected official does. He told me about the size of his staff and budget, and threw in that he used to be the mayor, but since the DC has more power, he prefers that role, and has been doing this job for nearly 25 years. In my I-haven't-dated-in-nearly-eight-years naivete, I still realized he was flirting with me. I pointed out that I was from out of state and wasn't one of his constituents, and was married (I think I made several unnecessary references to my husband to drive this point home), but to no avail.

We continued with some very interesting political conversation, since he was a liberal Democrat, and I'm more conservative, with libertarian leanings, and am not afraid to disagree with people. We talked for a while, and he bought my dinner (despite my insistence that it was a business expense for my trip). He bought me a drink, and then suggested we go to a bar across the street. I was intrigued by this much older man hitting on me, that I agreed. We talked about his family (his daughter is 10 years older than me), drugs (he thinks all should be legal, and has done his fair share), sex (he loves it, and he's good at it, by his perception), and more politics (drains and water control are surprisingly interesting if the elected official in question is passionate about his work). Then he talks about how in his free time he also runs a massage business, and his clients really like his technique. Especially his female clients. Oh, and he's brought some of them to the Big O just through massage.

I start to leave. He says he wants to see me again. He has to go to a wine tasting the next night, and wouldn't I come with him? He'd really like to give me a massage after I'm done working with my customer the next day. He gives me his card and writes his cell phone number on it. He says won't I please call him when I finish up with my customer the next day? I pocket the card, making yet another feeble comment about needing to call my husband and go to bed, and head back to my hotel.