Sexual Solidarity

With Labor day coming up, I thought I would re-post my favorite story that happened when I was a Union Representative for SEIU some years ago. I represented employees within the Corrections Agency, and this is my favorite memory...Enjoy!! I apologize for its lengthiness.

It’s was a steamy July morning some years ago. The air was thick and hot, so hot in fact that I noticed a dog chasing a rabbit and they were both walking…Would nature’s crucible be a portend of heated tempers at the Labor/Management Meeting at one of the prisons that I represented…a meeting that was two hours away?

As I hopped into my car to begin my trip, I lit a Marlboro, fired up the engine, and asked myself two things…First, would this meeting become the knock down drag out fight that I figured it to be, and number two, why do my thoughts sound like the dialogue from a really bad True Detective story?

I was headed to a prison near Chillicothe, a prison whose employee morale was lower than that of a death row inmate. The cause of such derision was a warden who ruled over her employees with an iron fist, an acerbic vocabulary, and a bullet-proof bra. The stories that my workers told me about her conjured up an image of a haggard looking woman who was all of the Borgias rolled into one. As I looked at the clock in my car, my hands began to sweat…I was only sixty miles from my initial encounter with the evil Warden X. (Bum Bum BUMMMM)

I arrived at the prison and was promptly greeted by a sweltering heat and a handshake from the head of Labor Relations for the Department. Yep, things were bad here, and management was sending in the big guns. After getting felt up and wanded by the chick at security, I caught up with my folks and we discussed the talking points that we wanted to raise at the meeting. While the three or four points we wanted to make were different in nature, they all led back to…that’s right…Warden X. (Bum Bum BUMMMM)

My delegation and I entered the conference room and sat down at a coffee stained table across from the Labor Relations guy from the prison and the aforementioned head of LR for the entire department. We exchanged some jokes as we eagerly awaited the appearance of Public Enemy #1. And then, it happened. The door swung open and it was as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room. Time was beginning to move in slow motion. I turned and there she was…The dreaded Warden X (Bum Bum BUMMM).

I looked at her and said to myself, “So this is the bitch they’ve been talking about.” And upon a closer, deeper look at her, I thought to myself, “Holy Shit, this is one smokin’ hot bitch!!”

She had dark silky hair that nestled on her shoulders and ultimately rested in the middle of her back. Her eyes were as dark and harsh as coal but also evoked a smoldering passion. Her face was strong and yet had a softness that yearned to be touched. Her breasts were just plain HUGE and SOLID!!

The head guy introduced us and we shook hands. It was a firm shake and we looked each other square in the eye. I was Spartacus and she was the Roman slave master that had to be crushed. Her look indicated to me that removing the yolk of bondage from my workers would not be easy. We began the meeting. As hot as the temp was outside, it was much hotter in the conference room.

My people spoke harshly of the warden to the two labor relations guys. The employees accurately and sharply took her to task for her heavy handed ways. As their side listened to the accusations and documentation, I simply sat there looking at her. I looked at her with a crooked smile, a cocked head, and a nod. What I couldn’t determine was if I was looking at her like that, because my people were performing masterfully or was I was signaling to her that I wanted to rip her clothes off and do the mattress mambo with her? Where were my loyalties headed!?

As the meeting wrapped up, the head of labor relations gave us an offer of closer oversight and follow up meetings on the situation. Being the annoying prick that I was at the time and to give my folks a sense of victory, I told him that that was probably not enough and our delegation would have to think about filing several grievances and more importantly a couple of Unfair Labor Practices against her and the Department. He told me to think it over and get back with him as soon as I could.

As we left the room she stared at me with a cocked eyebrow as her index finger tapped her full bottom lip. I smiled and at her shrugged my shoulders...

After talking with the members and a re-telling all of the great zingers they spewed at the warden, I began to make my way out of the penal confines. Near the exit room I was intercepted by a visibly shaken Warden X. She may have been acting, but it was convincing. She asked me if I had a minute to talk. I said, “Sure, do you mind if I smoke?” She said, “Not at all, may I have one?” She gazed up at me with the look of a wounded puppy dog as I handed her a smoke. Without a word, I flipped my Bic and she clutched and then cradled my hands as she brought the flame to her cigarette.

After a deep drag, and an equally busty exhale, she looked away and said that she wasn’t nearly as evil as everyone had portrayed her to be, but it was tough being a warden let alone one of the female persuasion.

I said that I have to represent my folks and uphold the contract and in my opinion you are not working with them very well. She turned to me and asked if filing an Unfair Labor Practice was necessary.

She said, “Maybe if you and I met over dinner, we could smooth things over.” My mind raced as I sucked heavily on my weed. “She’s asking me to sell them out.” I thought to myself. I could lose not only my workers respect but get fired as well. But I rationalized it by thinking, “What the hell it’s only dinner.” After a pregnant pause I said, “Sure, why not.” She smiled at me and handed me a piece of paper with her address and her phone number scribbled on it. “Be there, between six-thirty and seven, if you’re going to be late, call me. Thanks Matt.” With a cat that ate the canary look upon her face, she walked away.

I went to my motel room and had a shower and a couple of beers. I reflected about the jam I may be getting myself into, but my desire to cross this chick’s picket line was too great. I drove to her house.

She answered the door wearing incredibly tight sky blue shorts and a boob hugging red T-Shirt. She looked, in a word, sexy as hell. She smiled, took me by the hand, and led me in. “Would you like a drink, Matt?’ she asked. I asked if she had Jack and Coke, she said, “I sure do.” “Great, I’ll have a beer.” I responded.

My joke broke the ice and we sat on the couch and had a drink…well several drinks. She cozied up to me, and made sure her ample breasts were pressed against me. She said, “I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine, by getting the heat off of me.” I said, “Okay, but it isn’t my back that itches.” She smiled and proceeded to kiss me and shove her wine laden tongue down my throat. The next thing I know we are in her bed devouring each other like a gallows inmate feasting on his last meal. It was incredible.

All good things come to an end and this encounter had come to an end several times. It was time for me to go. She lay on the bed as I got dressed; smugly knowing that she had secured her protection. I put on the last of my clothes and pulled a folded piece of paper from my pocket. I unfolded it, bent down to kiss her, and placed the paper on her naked, glistening stomach.“What’s this baby?” she asked. “It’s your copy of the Unfair Labor Practice that we are filing, BABY!! I guess I just f*%ked you twice!!”

I left her house, got into my car, and headed to my motel room. I knew that somewhere, Jimmy Hoffa was laughing his ass off.

Matt-Man: Putting the F-U in FUN!! Cheers!!