[Continued from “Correctional Officer, Part 1.”]

This was also during a time I was doing my best to be a faithful wife.  I invited the guys to my room with the intent of talk and mutual lamentation of the misery of the craptastic town.  The three guys got into my rental car and gave me directions.  We dropped off the original cute guy so he could get some pussy.  Then I was in the car with T and CO, only I had no clue of their names at the time, and hadn’t yet had a chance to give them nicknames.  We drove to T’s apartment so he could pick up his car, and beer.

I told them where my hotel was and drove there myself.  T and CO later told me they were afraid I’d have a thug in my room ready to roll them.  I naively often think only women have to worry about personal safety, so their worst-case scenario hadn’t occurred to me.  If it had, I would have done my best to reassure them that they were in no danger.  That night we hung out in my hotel room and talked about movies, and books, and how miserable their little corner of hell was.  CO told me he was a correctional officer at a local county jail, that he was married, and that he had a young son.

Actually, he didn’t tell me so much as I drew the information out of him.  His phone rang throughout the time the three of us were hanging out.  When I suggested he should attend to the caller he told me it was “just” his wife and that she’d be fine so long as he went home eventually.

As I was drunkish I definitely was cuddlier than usual.  I made it a point to touch CO as much as possible while enmeshed in a conversation about zombies.  He was not receptive at all.  Which was good considering T was in the room as well, and both CO and I were married, not to each other.

The three of us agreed to get together again the next night after I was done with work.  We went to a Japanese restaurant that CO assured me would be good.  I was doubtful that the town knew good sushi, but CO was right.  T, CO, and I had a great meal.  After the previous night’s discussion about movies and books, and the realization that he knew good food, I had developed a bit of a crush on CO.

He was big–6’4″, 220 lbs.–and awkward, and cute.  Nice full lips.  A sweet personality that belied his chosen profession.  I love having my preconceived notions shattered, and I love people who are walking contradictions.  This guy was a dork in every way but his job.

After sushi we went to the same bar where we had met.  Our pregnant bartender was working hard for the kid’s future Ivy League tuition.  I got VERY drunk.  I was so hung over the next day I had a very difficult time checking out of my hotel by noon.  I was not looking forward to the several-hour drive home.

I had gotten T’s phone number the night before and I called him to thank him for making my stay in Crapville just a little better and to tell him I’d be back the following week (my work was not yet complete).  It was obvious I was in shit shape so he offered his couch for me to sleep on until I felt well enough to drive.  I took him up on the offer–really I was capable of little actual function and was concerned that I wouldn’t make the drive.

More to come ….

I swear.  True story.