Chapter Two: Dressing to the Left
I drew the fabric taut.
"How does that feel?"
"How does it look?"
"Oh, Council Member XXXXXXXXXXXXX. You're incorrigible."
"Is that French for horny?"
The banter had gone on long enough. Working as a personal tailor to a Seattle City Council member had its perks, but I never imagined they would include this! All I was expecting was to measure Council Member XXXXXXXXXXXXX for a new pair of Sea Island Cotton trousers in time for summer, something I'd done for prominent men hundreds of times before without incident. But this was no ordinary fitting. And my client's title wasn't the only thing about him that was "prominent."
"I hope you brought the extra-long tape measure, my good man."
The trousers crumpled to his ankles in a heap. He pushed himself even closer to my blushing lips.
"Hey, don't be shy," said Council Member XXXXXXXXXXXXX with a laugh. "I'm counting on your help to form a broad-based coalition. And when I say broad-based..."
He grazed my cheek. He wasn't kidding.
"But Council Member XXXXXXXXXXXXX, I haven't finished pinning your inseam!"
"Don't worry, garçon. Just scoot over a little. I always dress to the left..."
TO BE CONTINUED