The traveling saleswoman

Something about drinking Californian wine in the not so literal sense...

Every evening, after I finish all my usual stuff at home, I sit in front of the computer and start my regular rounds to a number of websites... one of them is a discussion group mostly frequented by women of different ages where topics are fairly general, but in a cheeky girlish kind of way. So, I've been posting there for quite some time and I've made a few friends, some of which, I chat with every now and then.

One of these friends is a woman in her 30s, extremely attractive from what I can see in her pictures, almost the type you would find in a Playboy centerfold. She tells me she's a salesperson living in Napa Valley, California, and that she travels quite a bit with her job. I think, good wine and traveling around are generally considered good things. So, we continue chatting, and she mentions that she loves coming to Montreal, but that when she travels to Canada, she usually goes to Toronto. "Well," I say, "next time take the train to Montreal and you can stay at my place, just bring some of that good Californian wine."

She likes the idea, and then she starts talking about her little misdemeanors when she comes to Canada. I don't want to be too explicit here, but it's got to see with circumcision, and she starts asking me a series of questions on the subject. I answer to the best of my abilities, which unfortunately are not that extensive mostly because I'd been married until recently. She keeps going on with the subject... apparently it's something she thinks about a lot. She asks me questions about what kind of men I find attractive, whether I've been with a woman before, and other personal stuff that I better not mention.

So, I try to keep my cool and a casual attitude rather than sound like the prude I am compared to this woman. In fact, I'm starting to feel a little overwhelmed by the frankness of the conversation. I find it astonishing that I'm able to share such intimate details with this woman... something I would find very difficult to do with a man; but I'm arrested by the conversation, and in spite of feeling certain uneasiness, I continue chatting with her without even attempting to change the topic.

Then, she starts complimenting me in different ways... she tells me that she likes how I think, that she's seen my pics posted in the website, and that she thinks I have very nice legs, and that when she makes it to Montreal, maybe we could drink a couple of glasses of her wine, possibly not entirely in the literal sense. All of a sudden, I feel like I've been connected to the wall plug beside the computer, and it takes me a little while to get over the shock; then, for some inexplicable reason I say "Sure, I'd love to try that Californian wine!" "Great," she says, "I'll get in touch with you as soon as I know when I'm coming to Montreal!"